Page 2 of No Greater Sorrow

A woman pushed past him. Her freckled face moved from Bonnie to Violet as she raised an eyebrow. Like Aleja, she had red hair, but it was bright as sunlit copper with a bleached strand near her face. She was petite, barely reaching Taddeas’s chest. The gold bangles around her wrist jangled as she waved a finger at Nicolas.

“This better be worth my time, Knowing One. I was working on my tan in Greece when a black snake slithered up to me on a beach, hissing for me to come home. Gave the locals a fright.”

“Hello, Orla. Would you like some breakfast?” Nicolas said.

Orla. Aleja remembered that name—it belonged to the Dark Saint of Envy.

“I’d like anexplanation,” she said, in a melodious accent Aleja thought might be Irish. “The snake said…”

“Orla, sit. It’s nice to have you back. You remember Our Lady of Wrath, don’t you?” Bonnie told her, moving aside to make space for another chair.

Orla sighed. The small hoops in her ears caught the light as she looked at Aleja. “I always figured you’d claw your way back eventually. Did the Second agree to this?” she asked, sounding less frantic than a moment ago. Her eyes lingered on Aleja’s scarred throat.

“He’s about to put me and my friend through the Trials with no training,” Aleja said dryly. She mostly forgot about the scars she’d received while rescuing Violet, though they still itched like her skin was perpetually dry. She’d once been horribly self-conscious about the mottled skin crawling up her neck. But when Nicolas had seen them for the first time, his gaze had lingered on the pink tissue with reverence. Aleja had understood something then, though the words had gone unspoken. Scars were proof she had survived.

“Sounds about right. I’m still hellishly mad at all of you—well, not you, Bonnie, this bacon is very good—so if you plan on convincing me to stay longer than it takes to eat, you better start talking.”

Aleja shrugged. “I’m the wrong person to ask. My memories of the war are missing.”

“Ah, wonderful. What else have I missed?” Orla said.

Aleja’s scalp tingled and she turned to see a woman in a silk dressing gown approaching from the hall that meandered toward the upper wings. Amicia, the Dark Saint of Lust, had cropped blonde hair that was growing out, with feathery tufts brushing against her pointed ears.

“Oh, good, at least you’re still around,” Orla said, scooting aside to make space at the table. Amicia was obviously dampening her power for although the texture of the tablecloth beneath Aleja’s hand was suddenly more intense, she merely felt the urge to shift in her chair. Nicolas also took a seat, gesturing for Taddeas to join them. Neither of the men seemed interested in the array of food, but Orla poured herself a mug of coffee and topped it off with a dollop of cream that sat atop the surface like a cloud.

“Nice to see you, Orla. The last time you stormed out, I recall you saying you’d never step foot in this palace again,” Amicia said. Her plate was piled so high with blackberry pancakes that Aleja was certain it would fall over when she added an enormous spoonful of whipped butter to the top.

Orla shrugged. “I missed Bonnie’s cooking.”

“Shame on me for thinking you were pining away for my presence,” Amicia replied before turning to Violet. “Is this the friend you were looking for, Aleja? I knew you’d work it all out in the end.”

It was Violet’s first time being addressed by anyone but Bonnie, but instead of sinking into her chair, she sat up straighter. Even so, the steaming mug of tea she held under her chin looked too heavy for her fragile wrists.

“Violet is my nominee for Pride,” Nicolas said.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of the tablecloth rustling as Orla reached for another sugar cube. She shuddered as she dropped it into her coffee. “Poor Roland. His death felt like ripples of darkness and light, as if a star had exploded. He was always such a complicated boy.”

It was Aleja that had ended Roland, with a sickle enchanted by Otherland magic. She wished Garm was here; he would have broken the tension by stealing one of the plump venison sausages. “Complicated is one word for it. He protected his brother until the end—a murderer who sacrificed witches to keep a Remnant alive.”

Orla gave Aleja a pointed glance. “The snake told me. Roland wasn’t the only Dark Saint who left destruction in his wake. That’s the reason I’m here, isn’t it? Because you and Nicolas could never help but kick the hornet’s nest.”

“Orla,” Nicolas warned, but Aleja refused to let him defend her.

“You’re here because the Astraelis sent a convoy into our territory after we killed one of their Authorities in self-defense. If anyone is to blame, it’s them. If you’ve come to help defend the Hiding Place, then thank you. If not, I’d appreciate it if you’d shut up and eat your breakfast,” she said shoving another piece of bacon into her mouth.

“And here, I’d been led to believe Our Lady of Wrath had returned as a mortal girl with no memories of the destroyer she’d been,” Orla said, sounding almost appreciative of Aleja’s sharp tone. “Yes, I’ve come to help—for Bonnie and Amicia’s sake. This Taddeas fellow seems nice too.”

“Thanks,” Taddeas mumbled from across the table.

“Good. We understand each other,” Aleja muttered, trying hard not to shrink back from the intensity of eye contact with a Dark Saint.

“By the Second, that was awkward. We’re only missing Merit now. Any word on him, Nic?” Bonnie asked, slapping her palms on the table.

The Knowing One frowned while spinning a hard-boiled egg on his side of the table. “No one has seen him, but our scouts will keep trying.”

They ate in silence, aside from Violet, who managed her toast but seemed uninterested in anything else but tea that smelled of night-blooming jasmine. Aleja’s magic boiled at her fingertips, but she tried to summon a smile when she caught Nicolas’s worried glance. Soon, there would be seven Dark Saints instead of five. Soon, they would be able to fight back against whatever was coming for them.

“Any news from the border, Tad?” Bonnie said quietly, as if hesitant to break the temporary peace.

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