Page 34 of No Greater Sorrow

“So why does the Messenger think she can?” Nicolas asked.

Val’s mask shook in a way that made him appear embarrassed. “I did destroy that part of my researchverythoroughly, but she might have an inkling I figured out how to do it.”

“Val,” Nicolas said in a warning tone.

“Oh, fine. It’s exceedingly simple. That’s why my mother and that fool will run themselves ragged before they figure it out. The Third is a psychopomp, ferrying the dead to their destinations, but it’s not as if he needs to be physically present when someone dies, any more than your Dark Saint of Gluttony needs to be in a field for the crops to grow.”

Aleja nearly corrected him—she was Bounty, not Gluttony—but Taddeas shot her a look.

“The Third can take a physical form, but he is usually elusive. The Astraelis will never catch him until they realize that the only way to get him to show is by making him so angry that he has no other choice.”

“How do you do that?” Orla asked.

“As I said, it’s ridiculously simple,” Val said. “All you have to do is?—”

“Prevent someone from dying,” Nicolas finished.

* * *

Aleja pantedas she entered the tent that was their temporary war room. “Could this camp be any hillier?”

“No,” Taddeas said. “We intentionally chose this terrain. Our soldiers grew up in these hills. Our dragons evolved in the mountains; they’re used to maneuvering through the peaks, but the Thrones and Authorities don’t fare as well. The location gives us a two-fold advantage. It’s difficult for their airborne units to spot us, and even more difficult for their ground troops to reach us without being seen.”

“And difficult for my thighs.”

“You might think differently in a few weeks when you see how your ass looks in a pair of leggings,” Amicia said with a wink.

“Eyes off my wife’s ass,” Nicolas told her.

“You don’t get to speak for me,” Aleja said.

“Wonderfully said, Aleja. And I always look quite respectfully,” Amicia responded. “Don’t worry, Knowing One, I have no intentions of seducing your wife unless she explicitly asks me to. It’s good you’re here, we were waiting for you.”

Aleja resisted the urge to check if Amicia was referring to someone behind her. Like the war room in the palace, the tent was dominated by a large round table, empty aside from Val’s orb and a few maps, creased with folds. Orla didn’t look up as Aleja found a place to stand; her attention never strayed from Val, again in chains, seated on the cold ground.

You’re still you,the voice reminded her, uncharacteristically gentle.You killed an Authority without losing your life in the process. You passed your first Trial and made sure Violet survived hers. You escaped one of the Messenger’s scouts.Even without your memories, you’regoodat this.

Thanks for the pep talk.

Don’t get used to it.

“Our first priority is getting Merit back,” Taddeas said. He seemed more confident than usual, and Aleja remembered what he’d told her about himself as they’d trained. Something about lecturing in front of a classroom chased his shyness away. When she smiled at him, he smiled back.

“Although Violet’s information was useful, it provided little insight into where Merit might be held. I’ve already contacted our scouts. Once we know his location, I say we send a small team. If we can pull him out without an all-out battle, we can spare lives on our side,” Orla said.

“I’vealreadytold you where the camp is,” Val said.

“And I trust you even less than yesterday. Besides, why the hell would we want to sneak into a camp where we know the Messenger is present?”

“Because this camp will not be well-guarded. In fact, it’s secret from most of the Astraelis armies. The Messenger does not want their attention drawn to it, so she claims it’s a retreat of sorts. A place for her and her closest advisors to rest in safety,” Val told her.

Nicolas’s eyes flashed at Val. “The Messenger is keeping secrets from the rest of her armies? Why?”

“She knows there are others like me who might not be onboard with the slaughter of thousands of humans. After all, there are plenty of Astraelis devotees who aren’t above sending a few prayers toward the Dark Saints when it suits them. We’d be losing followers too.”

The answer seemed hollow to Aleja, and when she glanced at Nicolas’s hands—the most expressive part of him—she saw that his thumb was curled in and lightly grazing his index finger. A sign he too didn’t believe every word coming out of Val’s mouth. “What security measures can we expect? Although the Messenger is keeping the camp low-key, she would never leave a Dark Saint in their midst without protection. Especially one as valuable as Merit.”

“There’ll be a handful of Throne scouts but not enough to present a problem. Likely a few Principalities as well. It’s the Authorities that present the biggest issue. You’ll need to draw them away before you deal with whoever is directly guarding your Saint.”

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