Page 50 of No Greater Sorrow

“All right. Orla, hang back with Val and Violet until you’re needed.” Nicolas’s voice remained even, but Aleja caught the slight furrow in his brow.

“With all due respect, Knowing One,” Orla said, her sharp tone at odds with the words, “I’m more useful down there than you are. Aleja and I can find Merit and set him free.”

Nicolas’s eyes darted between them, and Aleja chimed in before he could protect her in front of Orla. “If this goes well, they won’t even know we were here, right? I’ll go with you.”

For the first time in a long while, Aleja was proud of herself. Her voice didn’t shake, no matter how rapidly her heart pounded beneath her sternum to remind her that she wasnota soldier. Hellfire, she wasn’t even particularly athletic—if the Second had designed a Trial where she’d needed to run a full mile, she probably would have collapsed halfway through and needed Violet to drag her to the finish line. Aleja had only a few things to her name: some fencing lessons from long ago, a sickle that felt oddly depleted of magic, and alotof fire.

She was counting on the latter to get her through this.

“Smoke. Over there,” Nicolas breathed into Aleja’s ear.

Now that they’d dipped into the valley, the forge was obvious. A few Principalities wandered among chunks of black iron. Red light shone from somewhere between them. “How long do you need, Violet?” he asked.

“Not long.”

“Okay. I’ll draw the shadows in—Aleja and Orla, get in there and find Merit.”

You have no choice but to be ready. You can do this, hissed Aleja’s inner voice.

The Luminariums pinched out at once. It was as if the moon had been swallowed by storm clouds that were so massive, they stretched all the way to the earth. She followed Orla as they moved through the murky field. Aleja could hear the chaos behind her but focused on staying at Orla’s heels. Even with less than a few feet between them, the Dark Saint was difficult to spot aside from her bright hair.

Orla led them toward the glow of the furnace. Chains dragged through the sooty dirt, attached to someone Aleja could not see, but before she could point to them, Orla clamped a hand over Aleja’s mouth. A person in a winged mask passed so close that Aleja had to duck to keep the feathers from brushing against her head.

The Principality called out a word before a trumpet horn drew his attention. Orla tugged her arm, and they moved forward, following the chains.

Yet that wasn’t the only enemy wandering the shadows. Aleja didn’t react to the next one fast enough. By the time she turned, hands were around her throat, and,gods, they were enormous. There was no chance to gasp as her windpipe constricted. The Principality’s mask spread wide. “Lady of Wra?—”

Orla was on him before his mask could twitch in surprise—her dagger in his throat, his blood splattering their faces. Two quick stabs into the Principality’s neck sent him back into the darkness.

“Is he—” Aleja began. The words scorched her throat. She threw her forearm over her mouth to muffle the cough that followed.

“They’re harder to kill than that, but he’ll need a minute to recover. Come on, Merit can’t be far, and once that guy fetches his friends, we’re screwed.”

A great mass of wings passed overhead, flapping out of time with each other. Aleja hadn’t seen a real Authority since the well, and the sight of it made her stomach drop. The one she’d fought before had been newly revived and weak, but even glimpsed through the shadows, this Authority was… radiant. Hundreds of glowing eyes blinked out of sync as it frantically searched the landscape before moving on.

She could no longer see the glow but knew they had to be close to the forge. Something moved to her left, but this time, Aleja wasn’t going to let herself be caught unprepared. She raised her hands, calling her fire, but the person who stepped forward was unmasked. Her flames grazed the man’s head, but he didn’t seem to notice how the air filled with the scent of burning hair.

“Aleja? How?—”

“We’ll talk later,” Orla barked. “We need to get you out of here.”

The man who must have been Merit raised his bound arms. “You two shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re rescuing you, fool. How do we get you out of those chains?” Orla said.

“You can’t. They’re layered with enchantment upon enchantment. Only the Messenger has the key.”

* * *

Where the hell were they?Nicolas searched the darkness for two heads of red hair—one bright, the other dark.

A Principality that’d stumbled out of the shadows with a bleeding gash in his neck lay at Nicolas’s feet. He’d nearly forgotten how easily killing came to him until he sent an army of shadows down the man’s throat to tear him apart from the inside. Since the Principality’s gurgling scream had faded, the lone sound was the clamor of the Astraelis armies. They scrambled to contain an Authority that’d veered into the tents and was using its great wings to send them flying off the stakes holding them to the ground.

A loud crash slammed into him with an almost physical force, snapping his attention back toward the camp’s center. Two Authorities were now airborne. Nicolas crouched for cover as the gaping mouth of the one tore an enormous chunk out of a wing of the other; blood rained into the darkness, absorbed by shadow before it could visibly hit the ground.

Violet wasn’t luring them. She was confusing them. Possibly evencontrollingthem.

At that moment, Nicolas didn’t know whether this would be their salvation or damnation. But there was no time to question her while Aleja and Orla were in danger, and Merit was probably still in chains.

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