Page 28 of No Greater Sorrow

A dim glow appeared, tucked between pieces of a statue so weathered as to be unrecognizable. Aleja waited for someone to interrupt her, but it seemed Nicolas had truly managed to draw the others away.

Go. It’s now or never, she told herself.

She closed the distance within seconds, wrapping her hands around the orb with an internal shout of triumph. The orb was so smooth, so perfectly matched to the temperature of the Third’s realm that it barely felt real in her hands. But there was no chance to examine it because the shadows were no longer whispering.

They screamed.

Get out now!

A second light source joined her. The Messenger’s sword was almost identical to Nicolas’s, but the fire emanating from it was so bright and gold that it pierced into Aleja’s dilated pupils.Run, the shadows ordered, but the Messenger advanced no farther, merely tilting her head to the side. Her mask wasn’t subject to the laws of gravity. It whirled like a kaleidoscope Aleja couldn’t look away from—until she saw the Messenger shift her weight from her left foot to her right. The precursor to a fighting stance. It was like reading Nicolas’s most subtle body language.

“I told you that you’d come to make a deal, eventually,” the Messenger said.

“What?” Aleja whispered, as the shadows tried to coax her back into them. The Messenger seemed unconcerned when Aleja slipped the orb into her pocket and its light was muffled.

“Is my son with you?” the Messenger said.

Son?

Val. The Messenger was talking about fuckingVal. Violet was right. They’d let a viper slither into their camp. Aleja’s fire nearly reached her hands, but she pushed it down. Nicolas might win a fight with the Messenger, but she certainly couldn’t.

“Dead,” she choked out, knowing that her only chance of escaping now was to catch the Messenger by surprise and slip into the shadows with enough of a head start.

“You always were a terrible liar, Lady of Wrath,” the Messenger said, her voice low and unconcerned. “I could kill you now, you know? End this whole bloody business before it begins. How effective do you think the Knowing One will be at commanding his armies when his wife has been ripped out of his arms again?”

Aleja’s spike of fear threatened to overtake her. Her body tensed, expecting the Messenger to drive her sword into the soft flesh between her ribs.

“You have thirty seconds before my scouting party returns.” The Messenger’s voice was so low, it was almost inaudible over one of her soldier’s distant shouts.

“Wha—”

“Enjoy the Luminarium, Lady of Wrath and Fire. Tell my son I’ll see him soon.”

It’s a trap, Aleja’s inner voice screamed, but she had no choice but to take the Messenger’s opening. She ran, letting the shadows guide her like a river’s current. They’d already begun to thin. If she didn’t get out of here soon, the enormous statues would be weeping for her.

It was foolish to feel relief.

The feeling didn’t last long.

Turn, the shadows screamed, but she was caged by broken marble bodies, and the darkness had receded so much that the Principality ahead of her didn’t need a flaming sword to see.

Aleja had never experienced Astraelis magic before, but she understood what the sudden vibrations shooting through her arms were without having to question it. He was trying to use magic to break her hands and render her useless.

“How many in your party?” the soldier snapped, just as there was a crunch in her right wrist. But she still had her left. Aleja didn’twantto feel satisfaction as her fire engulfed the Principality’s mask, but the sight of those wings in flames awakened something dark in her. Something wrathful. Even after the golden feathers turned black, she kept pushing, letting the fire pour from the deep well of pain inside her. The pain of Nicolas’s lies. The pain of Violet’s lies. The pain of letting her fragile trust reside in another person, only to be betrayed.

Stop, Aleja. You’ve done it.

She didn’t listen until she was forced to stop by exhaustion. When the burst of light faded, the shadows were gone and the earth was no longer that beautiful shade of ultramarine blue, but the mottled gray of death. It wasn’t until she saw the writhing body of the Astraelis that her feet moved. Although she’d failed to kill him, his mask had melted into his skin.

Aleja ran, the statues like a ruined city surrounding her. She could do nothing but hope to stumble upon the narrow trail they’d found leading from the hole in the wards.

A shadow joined her, yet when she looked up in a panic, it was not the Throne, but Nicolas. The silhouette of his wings against the sky was such a relief she let out a yelp—a wordless exclamation of joy at the thought they might survive this.

“This way!” he called.

And when she tried to take another step, she realized her feet were no longer on the ground. Nicolas held her tightly as they rose into the painted sky, higher and higher, until they were surrounded by nothing but a deep and sorrowful blue.

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