Page 27 of No Greater Sorrow

“The Messenger. This might not be so simple as bamboozling a scouting party. If I give the word to retreat, do so.”

Nicolas drew the shadows closer around them and motioned to the other side of the wall, indicating they should sneak back. But before either of them moved, the Messenger spoke.

“Stay on your guard. We’re not alone,” she told the man at her side. The Messenger didn’t have the booming voice Aleja expected. It was soft and sharp, as if she commanded attention by forcing her companion to listen closely for every word.

“Do you think Val was wrong? The Third might return here occasionally,” her companion replied.

“No, but there are others who might make use of an empty realm. The Otherlanders are adept at hiding, even from us.”

“Their armies don’t know we’re here, ma’am.”

Aleja looked at Nicolas in alarm, but he held a finger to his lips.

“In wartime, the Knowing One keeps his council close and tight. Check the tower.”

“But… I was just Val’s research assistant. Should I not request help from one of the soldiers?”

“Check the tower. Val may be hiding there. Remember that he’s skilled in creating illusions.”

Aleja’s thoughts raced. Had Val mentioned that he was important enough for the leader of the Astraelis forces to personally oversee his capture?

Nicolas motioned for her to move again, and together, they crept behind a ruined wall out of the Messenger’s sight line. The statues blocked Aleja’s view of the remaining Principalities. All she saw was a faint light that dimmed every time the Throne passed overhead and cast a shadow over their group.

“If I can avoid being seen, I can create a distraction, drawing most of them away. Then, I can drop shadows down to confuse them. All you’ll need to do is walk up and take the orb,” Nicolas whispered, close to her ear.

“What about the Messenger?” she said, trying to wrestle down the frantic feeling in her chest.

“If I fight the Messenger, I’ll win. I’m quicker than she is and have a better grasp of my magic. But short of destroying every cell in her body, it’s very likely she would be back to tormenting us before we could breathe a sigh of relief. The First’s gift is life, remember?”

“The Third has no problem with this?”

“She wouldn’ttrulybe dead. My point is that she’s incredibly resilient. But that doesn’t matter right now. If she’s here, whatever they have is important. We just need to get it and get out of here.”

“Nicolas—”

“You’re meant to be here, Lady of Wrath. You can do this. Don’t die. That’s a command, soldier.”

She didn’t beg him to stay as his shadows enveloped them, though her dread felt like there was a boulder hung suspended over her by a thread that could snap without notice. After an agonizingly long moment, her eyes shot to the sky. The Throne shrieked and banked sharply to the left. In the ultramarine blue of this world, Nicolas’s shadows were nearly impossible to see, but she was aware of the tug of his power.

“What was that?” barked one of the soldiers.

“Messenger!” yelled the other.

The Throne veered away from the scouting party, whipping wildly from side to side, as if something was perched on its back. Darkness swarmed the space, blocking Aleja’s view. Shadows filled the gaps between the enormous statues, their pale marble bodies in stark contrast.

Get ready, said her inner voice.When you see an opening, it’s bound to be brief.

What do I do?

I thought your true crime podcasts taught you everything you needed to know.

Regrettably, they failed to mention how to deal with murderous angels.

Remember, Nicolas’s shadows are alive with his power. You can feel it, can’t you? Use it to your advantage.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her breath coming out with a puff of cold fog. If she steadied herself, she could almost hear the shadows whispering in a voice with an accent belonging to a nameless kingdom by the sea.The soldiers have scattered. We’ll guide you, the shadows said.

She plunged into the darkness. This was not like looking up at the sky through shallow water but rather like dropping to the bottom of the sea. Even the statues were hidden until she approached close enough to brush against the curve of a knee or a detached face scrunched in anguish. And again, the shadows whispered.This way, this way.

---