Page 28 of Each Their Own Devil

“Where is Violet?” she asked. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m surprised to hear you ask after her. She’s a traitor to your realm.”

“I ask because I plan to kill her.”

“Hm,” the Messenger grunted. “Then, I suppose it’s better she didn’t come along. She’s confined at my home. And my son—where is he?”

“In our prisons,” Aleja told her. The truth was inconsequential. The Messenger could no more enter the prison chambers than Val could leave it without either the Knowing One or his High General. “We feed him. He is allowed to sleep. I doubt many of your Otherlander prisoners can say the same.”

“Has he asked after me?”

“Of course not. If we were to drop the wards on his prison cell today, my guess is that his next move would be to run as far away fromyouas possible.”

The Messenger exhaled, ruffling the lower feathers of her mask. “He didn’t always despise me so. We were very close, when he was young.”

“I didn’t come here to get your biography.”

“I’mtryingto get you to see reason,” the Messenger said. “My son’s fear of me is unfounded. I may have been a…demanding parent, yes, but glory is the shining side of sacrifice. And my son was always born to be glorious. As you know, Astraelis do not reproduce easily nor quickly. I learned I was pregnant when I felt his soul spark to life in my belly while fighting Otherlanders on the battlefield. Our kind’s gestation period takes many years. By the time Val wiggled to life in my stomach, his father was long dead.”

Aleja knew precious little about Val’s father, other than what the Messenger had offered herself. The Messenger had held her role for centuries—even longer than Nicolas had been the Knowing One.

“None of that changes the fact that Val is no longer your ally any more than he is ours,” Aleja said. “He wants to survive and will give his allegiance to whoever can offer him the best chance. Even if I could convince him to return to you, there is no chance that the other Dark Saints would let him go.”

“I don’t blame him,” the Messenger said with a sigh. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard, but I knew he could be like his father. My husband was an unparalleled magician but stubborn. Now, we’re all going to suffer for it. Is there something wrong, Lady of Wrath?”

“Yes. I’m not even sure if I believe in the Avaddon.” It didn’t seem wise to mention that neither their librarians nor the Second had confirmed it.

“Then you’re a fool. Why not choose to believe in something that is harmless if false but fatal to reject if true?”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom. I’m sure that will convince everyone back home.”

The Messenger shrugged. “You and I both know that we cannot do anything without an ulterior motive. That’s why I trust you to believe me. Think hard, Lady of Wrath. What good could it do you to know more my relationship with my son? I may appear hopeful, but I have little illusion that Val would ever return to me willingly. You’re right. I was a poor mother.”

“That doesn’t make me feel sorry for you. Anyway, why should I deal with a Messenger who is about to be deposed?” Aleja asked.

“Deposed? I’m not quite thereyet. Besides, how would your fellow Dark Saints react if they knew you were here with me?”

The Messenger turned, and her shoulders sagged. Aleja opened her mouth, meaning to ask about the Messenger’s traitorous soldiers, but her curiosity was so annoyingly piqued that something else came out entirely. “You once said your husband taught a human woman magic. That was why he was executed.”

The Messenger’s mask fluttered around her face. “This information isn’t relevant, Wrath.”

“It’s information you offered me yourself, and you say nothing by accident. Your husband taught magic to a human woman, and he was executed as a result of it. Was he having an affair?”

“An affair?” the Messenger scoffed. “When you live as long as we do, the notion is ridiculous. Monogamy is impossible.”

Aleja shrugged. “I don’t blame anyone who takes more than one lover with the permission of the others, but I can say for a fact that you’re wrong.”

“You and Nicolas don’t count,” the Messenger hissed. “My husband loved someone else—that’s true—but he always had my blessing. Until I learned she was a human and that he had betrayed our kind by teaching her magic.”

“And for that he deserved to die?”

The Messenger was silent for a beat too long. Aleja did not need her inner voice to know that the Messenger had just admitted something crucial. It was not just her loyalty to her armies that was in question. It was her loyalties to everything the Astraelis stood for. Aleja couldn’t have caught that brief hesitation if she wasn’t already so used to listening closely to Nicolas’s bored drawl for a hint of what he was truly thinking.

“No,” the Messenger said firmly. “And before you get smug about it, know that the Otherlanders aren’t the only ones capable of debating their leader’s authority. Many Astraelis philosophers have pondered whether our isolation maintains our safety or limits our progress.”

“Maybe your quest to kill the First isn’t purely pragmatic. Maybe you want revenge as well,” Aleja said, scolding herself for being too bold as the words left her mouth, but the Messenger only shrugged.

“That matters little to the outcome either way. Besides, I could say the same for you. In which case, let me tell you why I’ve asked you here. The figs of the First Tree grant knowledge—they have the power to teach magic, to gain insights into arcane secrets, and, most importantly in your case, restore memories that have been lost. And before you think I’m being altruistic, dispel the notion from your mind. I let those traitors testify when they returned from their foolish attempt to invade the Hiding Place without me. Even from their descriptions, it’s clear that your training has been lacking. The old Lady of Wrath would have decimated that motley group with a few well-placedcommands, barely needing to lift a finger. I can’t have you ruining our chances of success with incompetence.”

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