Page 80 of No Greater Sorrow

Nicolas had his wings glamoured away and his back turned to her. He did not turn as she approached, even when she ran to him, breathing hard, and wrapped her arms around his waist. The smell of vanilla and woodsmoke brought a fresh set of tears to her eyes.

He stiffened, and Aleja stepped back, wiping her face. “How did you get here?” she asked. It seemed like the simplest question to begin with.

“I woke up here about an hour ago,” he said.

“You knew about the hellhound loophole. I know you did. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew the Second would force you into a bargain. That was unacceptable. What did you offer him?”

“That wasmychoice to make.”

“Exactly. And you made it without any interference from me. What’s done is done. What did you offer him?”

Aleja swallowed, half-wishing he would turn around so that she could see his face and confirm it was truly him. She again reached out for her inner voice, but knew, deep in her heart, that as a Dark Saint, she might never hear from that Aleja again.

Another person who’d betrayed her. Only this time, it was a part of herself.

But, no… Maybe she couldn’t hear the voice, but she was certain the strength that prevented her from collapsing beneath the heaviness in her chest came from something behind that door in her mind. The door that was no longer locked.

“He asked for the Messenger’s life in exchange for yours,” she told him.

Garm seemed to have taken heed of the tension between them during what should have been a joyful reunion—at least on Aleja’s part. The dog slunk between two ruined columns, only visible by the pale brown patches of fur on his face and stomach.

“That doesn’t make sense. There must be more to it. You shouldn’t have—” Nicolas began.

“You weredead. Actually fucking dead. You weren’t going to come back, Nic. It wasn’t like the last time.”

He sighed and finally turned to her. The wind had turned his hair into clumpy tangles, but his eyes were as bright as they’d been the evening they first met.

“I did what I had to do,” she continued, hoping to stave off any more argument from the man who, until recently, was being poisoned for falling in love with her. But finding the words to express what she wanted to say was as difficult as being tossed into a body of water and being told she had to swim across an ocean.

“I did what I had to do,” she said again. “Just aswealways have. And if you’re going to be angry at me for that, then fine. I know the feeling. But I won’t apologize and I won’t plead with the Second to let me reverse my decision. So come back to the army camp because a lot has happened since you’ve been gone.”

Nicolas was focused on something in the distance over Aleja’s shoulder. Tiny headlights swerved through the hills; the car’s occupants were unaware that the Knowing One and the Dark Saint of Wrath were arguing on the spot where they’d been married centuries ago.

“I want forever with you. I won’t accept anything less. When the time comes, I’ll watch as you slaughter the Messenger,” Nicolas said, and this time, it was Aleja’s turn to sigh.

“Fine. Then, we’ll have a little side project of our own. By the way, she’s trying to kill the First too.”

“The First?” Nicolas asked, his brows knitting together. He looked less worried than she’d assumed he would, but after dying and being brought back in the span of a few hours, Aleja figured almost anything else was anticlimactic.

“You’ll hear the whole story when you come back to the Hiding Place,” she said.

Her return to the human realm was causing a strange emotion in her. It was something between grief, wonder, and curiosity. She could feel the tug of witches lighting candles and sticks of incense, calling to the Lady of Wrath. If she concentrated, she could even form a picture of them in her mind. There was a young woman in Tallinn who’d escaped her abusive husband with their infant child in tow. A girl in Jakarta asking for strength to care for her younger brother after her parents were killed in an accident—her grief was still raw enough to feel like anger. Aleja finally understood what Bonnie had said so long ago; it was awful to feel them calling and not be able to help.

“You’ll be able to shut it out soon enough. And when the war is over, I’ll teach you how to help those you want to help and exact your wrath on those you don’t,” Nicolas said, perhaps catching the unfocused expression in her eyes. Aleja hadn’t meant to derail his emotions with her own, but she was unable to find the words to apologize.

“Aleja…” he continued, finally meeting her gaze and holding it. “Marry me?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. “We’re already married, aren’t we?”

“Technically, yes. But we’re here, and… This news about the First sounds bad, Aleja. Is it bad?”

“Yeah, Nic. It’s really fucking bad.”

“Okay. We’ll deal with it. But I want the chance to be your husband again. Properly, without lies, deceit, or secrets between us.”

“All right,” she breathed. “What do we need to do?”

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