Page 74 of No Greater Sorrow

“No,” Aleja said. “I don’t kneel for anyone. Especially not you.”

At her side, Garm gave a nervous whine.

VERY WELL. LIGHT THE CANDLE.

Aleja approached the altar cautiously. Garm stayed close, his tail occasionally grazing her thigh.Is this a test? Aleja pleaded with her inner voice.

Again, no answer.

Fire crackled around her fingers as she reached for the wick. As soon as the candle flared to life, the rest of the room went dark. All that was visible of the other Alejas was the reflection of firelight in their hair.

Two great leathery wings spread through the darkness. The brief, wild joy she felt at thinking Nicolas had returned to her was extinguished just as quickly. This figure was much too big. A pair of spiraling horns erupted from its head, but its face was featureless aside from eyes that glowed like embers.

Despite Aleja’s earlier proclamation, her legs almost buckled beneath her. Her sword clattered to the ground, but she could not look away from his red eyes nor move to retrieve her weapon. It was like being pulled into the orbit of a black hole.

“Where’s Nicolas?” she managed.

“He’s gone. Seeing as he failed to pass his title onto someone else first, you’ll have to make do with me,” the Second said. The words burrowed into her—not merely her mind, but her veins, her bones, her soul.

“What is this?” Aleja asked, her voice cracking.

“You’ve passed your Trials, Dark Saint of Wrath. Would you like to make a bargain as well?”

“Bargain?”

“You should be familiar with the concept, Aleja.”

She looked at the eyes of her other selves, who watched in judgment. “I don’t…” she began dumbly.

“You have vexed me enough to last two lifetimes, and now you have destroyed my Knowing One. If you want to be a Dark Saint again, so be it. Anything else must be on my terms.”

“But—”

“No more arguments,” the Second snapped. The room rumbled and one of the unseen paintings clattered to the floor. “If you want to make a bargain, make me an offer.”

“I want him back.”

“I cannot bring back the dead.”

“You brought back Garm.”

“He was a hellhound—never truly gone in the first place.”

Aleja had seen Garm nervous, but not afraid, not like this. He was crouched low against her, breath coming in ragged pants.

“Exactly. Hellhounds are the product of unfulfilled bargains. They roam this place like ghosts before they’re summoned. I never took his heart. Nicolas’s spirit ishere. Do you want another Dark Saint? Then give me back my Knowing One,” Aleja cried. “You have the magic; I know you do. Bring. Him. Back.”

“The Third will be?—”

“You fool. The Third has been captured by the Astraelis. They plan to use him to kill you. And now you’ve lost a potential Dark Saint and killed your Knowing One. When they come, there will beno oneto save you. Not without Nicolas to lead us.”

The Second fell silent, but the candle flickered, as if someone had exhaled too close to the flame. The other versions of herself drew closer around him. “You might be in luck, Aleja. What would you give to have your husband back?”

She floundered, not having considered this outcome until now. “I don’t—” she began, but clamped her mouth shut before going on. Aleja no longer needed Garm to remind her that she shouldn’t show uncertainty in front of the Second. Whatever she spoke next had to be definitive and capture the enormity of what she was asking for.

Aleja bit the inside of her cheek as she thought. Offering her own life in exchange was not an option. Without Violet, they would be lacking a Dark Saint, which put them in a precarious situation ahead of true war. The Hiding Place needed their Lady of Wrath, and Nicolas would never want her to sacrifice herself again.

Talk to me, please, she begged her inner voice. But it was as though her other self had managed to pick the lock of the room inside Aleja’s mind and slipped away.

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