Page 55 of No Greater Sorrow

Even with Violet absent, the tent was packed. Bonnie, in a green dress and her crown; Amicia and Orla in matching black armor, with coiled red snakes over their chests; Taddeas, absently scratching the scar that cut diagonally across his face; and Merit, whom Aleja had only laid eyes on for a few minutes.

Trying not to stare, Aleja’s mind flew to her unfinished art history thesis, somewhere on a dusty hard drive in the human world. With Merit’s large eyes and creamy skin, he resembled one of Botticelli’s angels. His right hand curled around the back of Orla’s chair. Like her, Merit had left the Hiding Place after the last war. Aleja hadn’t been the one to slaughter the Astraelis’ high command and destroy the chance for peace, but perhaps in Merit’s eyes, she was complicit.

Bonnie leaned toward Aleja and whispered, “The Messenger was forcing Merit to build chains for the Third, but he can’t say how they planned to trap them. Merit tried to sabotage the project as much as he could, but?—”

“They’re on the right track regardless,” Val said. His winged mask sagged. “I could tell by the sort of magic the camp was rife with. That’s why there were so many Principalities there. They might try to take him back to finish the work.”

Merit snorted. “I’d rather die.”

“Our troops are on high alert,” Taddeas said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will they mount an all-out attack, or do you think they’ll try to come in quietly, the way we did to them?”

“I told you, I’m not a military thinker,” Val said, sounding apologetic. “My mother must have had her reasons for not attacking before now. Even her response to our presence seemed lackluster. Merit, how close do you think they were to completing the project?”

“I can’t be certain. They made me work in bits and pieces. Sometimes, it was weapons. Sometimes, it was… components. A chain link. A gear. I had no idea if I was working on a single thing or many.”

“We can speculate, or we can be prepared,” Orla grumbled. “Come find me when Nic wakes up. Until then, I’ll be laying traps at our perimeter. Bonnie, your forest was an excellent idea—think you can get something denser to grow? Brambles, maybe?”

“Sure,” Bonnie said, squeezing Aleja’s shoulder before following Orla from the tent.

At least Amicia and Taddeas were there to counter the venomous look Merit sent in Aleja’s direction. But as the others quietly conferred among themselves, Aleja wondered if the intense stare Merit had locked onto her with was not of anger, but… interest.

“Do you have your memories?” he asked, as the others began shuffling away to their duties.

“No, but I’m undergoing the Trials again. Just one more,” she said. It was easy to keep from sounding intimidated when she was this exhausted, but she didn’t exactly sound confident either.

“Thank you for coming to rescue me anyway.”

“We need you,” Aleja told him. If Merit was offended by her words, he didn’t show it. His index finger traced the woodgrain on the table. Despite their delicacy, his hands were very callused.

“Indeed.”

They watched each other in silence for a moment. Aleja wondered how many things stood unresolved between them from her other life. Did he resent her? Did he understand why Nicolas had done the things he had? Had Merit forgiven her in the long centuries after the last war?

He stood, watching the tent flap, and Aleja realized he was waiting until the others had put enough distance between them so they could not overhear. “I have a question,” he asked.

She nodded, hoping whatever he asked wouldn’t take more than the meager amount of brainpower she had left.

“You asked me for a favor before you left. To craft you a small, locked box so strong that nothing could open it but its key. The mystery has been tormenting me endlessly. Do you still have it?”

Her heart pounded, lifting the veil of exhaustion. Garm grunted as she moved his head from her lap so she could reach into her satchel. Despite the abuse her pack had been put through, the box was unmarred, gleaming in her hand, as if she’d polished it mere moments ago.

“One of my finer creations,” Merit said, bending to examine the box without taking it from her hand. He gave a long exhale.

“I don’t have the key,” she said in a voice trembling with excitement. Finally.

“That’s the strange thing. You wouldn’t tell me what the box was for, and you forbade me from crafting a key for it.”

Well, fuck, said Aleja’s voice, sounding disappointed herself.

“You must have some idea how to open?—”

“I’m afraid not. I imbue my creations with magic, yes, but once they leave my hands and go to their rightful owners, that magic no longer belongs to me. Although you said something I found odd. You said that you didn’t need a key from me because you already had one. Does that mean anything?”

Aleja sighed. “No. Sounds like Otherlander nonsense.”

“Mm.”

“You don’t think you could craft someone a false heart, could you?” Aleja asked, forcing herself to hold back another sigh.

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