Page 87 of No Greater Sorrow

Aleja knew she would lose her nerve if anyone protested again. As a chorus of voices erupted behind her, she pushed back through the wards. A rush of air from Nicolas’s wings followed, but she didn’t turn until she was sure none of the others had trailed her.

“This is a bad idea. Just because the Messenger didn’t kill you then means nothing. She has a plan,” he said.

Aleja turned back to him. A hint of the snake tattoo crawled up the side of his neck, matching the placement of her scars. Permanent reminders of their choices.

She pulled Nicolas close as if she was about to kiss him. A brief look of confusion passed across his eyes, but she could no longer see it once she pressed her cheek against his jaw. For a moment, her will to leave faltered. His heart beat strong against hers, a shared rhythm reminding her of all the ways they were connected—all the ways they’d fought to stay together, through war, time, and death.

“I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to trust me on this,” she said, voice no louder than a murmur. The Hiding Place was the Second’s realm, and even though Nicolas didn’t have any qualms about bad-mouthing him, there could still besomeonelistening. She pushed the small box that contained her relic into his hands, and his fingers closed around it. “Watch the memory when you’re sure you won’t be seen. The Messenger thinks she needs me.”

“What are you saying?” he asked, shifting as though he might pull away. She held him firmly in place. If any of the Dark Saints came out from behind the wards, it would look as if he were kissing her goodbye.

“We both have good reason to hate the Second,” she whispered fiercely. “What if we make the Messenger think that?—”

He gave a low hiss of warning but tenderly pressed his face against hers. “Don’t say it. Not even to me, do you understand?”

She nodded.

“And you’resureabout the Messenger? There’s no bringing you back if she kills you. Not this time.”

“I’m sure,” she said, winding her fingers into his lapels, where the silver snake was cold, in vibrant contrast with the heat emanating from his body. “Listen, Nic, whatever happens, whatever I have to do?—”

“I know. And you?”

“I do.”

He pulled back, pressing his forehead hard against her own. “As your commander, I order you to return to me. Do you understand?” he said, echoing the words she’d once spoken to him.

“Yes, Knowing One.”

It was as hard to wrench away from him now as it had been to pick herself up from his shredded body and continue the last Trial. “Go,” he said. She was grateful. Aleja didn’t think she could have made the first move herself.

“Garm, stay with her,” Nicolas continued. “Remember your promise.”

“No,” Aleja said, as Garm whined in response. “If the Messenger said to come alone, then that might set her off. Stay here, Garm. Be a good boy and watch over them.”

* * *

The Messenger was alone.At least, as far as Aleja could tell.

“You’re bold to come here. Everyone on this side of the wards wants you dead. It could be an ambush,” Aleja said, coming to stand beside her. The Messenger hadn’t been difficult to find, not with her enormous gold and peach mask, ruffling gently in the mountain wind.

The Messenger shrugged. She wore a pale yellow dress that exposed her broad shoulders, and beneath the gauzy fabric, a set of armor shone. Apparently, the Messenger wasn’t ready to completely let her guard down.

“I would recommend against that. Every Astraelis has been conscripted to fight. Our troops would slaughter yours,” the Messenger said.

Despite her pounding heart, Aleja rolled her eyes. Any confidence she had in this plan was gradually leaking away at the sight of the Messenger’s well-muscled body and the enormous sword at her hip. A sword she knew how to use, unlike Aleja. “At least our people are given the choice.”

“Are they? Are any of you?” the Messenger said softly.

“Stop that. You’re here to answer my questions,” Aleja said.

The Messenger’s laugh was surprising—a high, bright sound. “That is not the case, dear Wrath, but go on. I’ll indulge you.”

“Who is Val’s father?”

The Messenger’s mask tightened around her face like Val’s did when he was nervous. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead.”

It was exactly what Aleja had expected to hear, but she felt no sense of triumph. The Messenger was still mourning him after all this time, just like Nicolas had mourned Aleja. Despite their changed appearances, the Otherlanders and the Astraelis were still related after all. Their marriage bonds didn’t dissolve, even after death.

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