Page 49 of No Greater Sorrow

Garm looked over at Aleja, and she realized he was waiting for her confirmation. “That’s right. Protect them, Garm.”

Don’t you want to clear the air with Violet before you’re both thrust into a dangerous situation? Aleja’s voice asked.

She betrayed me. Besides, you were all for mistrusting her during the Trial.

That was a game. This is reality. A deadly reality.

Aleja didn’t answer, but she was oddly calm as they approached the camp, occasionally stopping to take wordless directions from Val or to crouch whenever a Throne flew overhead.

“Strange,” Val muttered when one passed so low that the air displaced by its wings made Aleja’s stray hairs fly into her face. They huddled together beneath one of the fig trees. Aleja had yet to spot any buildings, like those that dotted the Hiding Place.

“What is it?” whispered Orla.

“The Thrones are typically accompanied by a Principality to direct them. Otherwise, they’ll blindly attack any living thing that wanders into their territory.”

Orla’s hand moved to her dagger’s hilt, but Nicolas raised an arm to settle her. “What does it mean, Val?”

“Something is happening at the camp that requires all the Principalities’ attention. This makes things more troublesome.”

“Or it could work in our favor. If they’re distracted by some sort of meeting, there will be fewer eyes on us,” Orla told them. “There’s an opening. Let’s move.”

They crested the ridge, and Aleja saw Astraelis’ war camp at last. It was undoubtedly more organized than the one in the Hiding Place, lined by tents in shades of pale coral, blue, and gold. Golden lights like the Luminarium they’d recovered from the Third’s realm hovered along the pathways. The Astraelis didn’t bother camouflaging themselves. Perhaps they didn’t need to—the Otherlanders would be mad to attack the Astraelis here, on their own turf, where their power was strongest.

Her stomach pressed against the grass as she flattened herself and realized she hadn’t been truly afraid until now. Aside from a flutter in her gut, the thought of invading an Astraelis camp was so surreal that she’d only felt the sort of nervousness she got when watching a horror movie—something that couldn’t really harm her.

“Listen,” Nicolas said, low and close to her ear. “You can do this. You’ve done far worse before. Stay close to me and Orla. Your job is to watch our backs, so don’t act unless you have no other choice or we give the order. Understood, soldier?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, equally low.

“Call me that again and I’ll do more than beg.”

“This is disgusting,” Orla interrupted. “You do realize I can hear you, right? For fuck’s sake, look at poor Val. Even his mask is blushing.”

Nicolas kept his gaze fixed on the camp, but he addressed his next sentence to Val. “I haven’t seen so many Principalities in one place since the last war. If this turns out to be a trap, do you have any idea what I’m going to let my soldiers do to you?”

“I don’t… I swear, I don’t know what’s going on. My mother wouldn’t have called them here unless something big was happening.”

“What do we do?” Aleja asked. “Should we back off?”

“That would be inadvisable,” Val said. “If Merit has finished the chains, we’re even shorter on time than I’d feared. Our only hope is that he’s found some way to sabotage his work or that someone in my mother’s inner circle has misinterpreted my research. Either way, we need to get him out now.”

Nicolas continued. “Val, can you extinguish the Luminariums?”

“Yes, and I can create the illusion of an impending storm. It’ll hide your magic for a few moments, especially in the dark.”

“Good. I’ll send shadows down to cloak our movements. Violet, this is where you come in. Take Val and find a place to hide. Once the Authorities realize that you are not one of them, you‘ll become a target. Be careful. These are not recently revived Remnants, like the one from the well—they’re battle-starved. Realizing a human witch is wandering about the realm would be like foxes stumbling upon an injured baby bird.”

“Shit. We’re actually doing this?” Aleja asked.

Orla answered. “We’re fucked if we don’t. Violet is here because she wants to be a Dark Saint. Right, Violet?”

Violet nodded, reaching into her pocket for the vial containing the last few drops of the Second’s well water. She touched it to her lips before Aleja could protest, drinking in half of the liquid left.

“What the hell? You’re not going to have enough left for the next Trial,” Aleja spat.

Orla continued as though Aleja had not spoken. “There will come a day when you‘ll need to send your friends into a fight, knowing that not all of them will come out of it alive. Are you prepared for that, Lady of Wrath?”

Aleja managed a nod but sensed there wassomethingshe was missing—something they were all missing. She locked eyes with Nicolas and saw the same debate playing out on his face. At that moment, she understood why Taddeas was so adamant about stepping down from his position before the real fighting started. With only a few minutes before a Throne spotted them, they needed to make a decision that might kill them all, before they could analyze every angle.

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