Page 29 of Each Their Own Devil

Whatever offense Aleja might have taken at that statement was dulled by another sensation—fear. Since returning to the Hiding Place, regaining her memories had never been an option, aside from the occasional snippet of her past that she glimpsed through the Unholy Relics.

She had not considered she could be anything else than Alejandra Ruiz, the daughter of Satanists, their would-be final sacrifice to the devil, a college dropout, a caretaker for the Gentle Hearts Agency, the best friend of a woman who had gone missing in the forest. Did she even want the last Lady of Wrath’s pain? Her anger? The hatred of her enemy that had oozed from even Bonnie during their last meeting?

“There’s more,” the Messenger went on. “The fruit of the First Tree must be plucked by the one who intends to eat it, or else it will rot.Youmust enter the Astraelis realm, and I will guide you there.”

“This sounds like a trap.”

The Messenger shrugged. “I’m done trying to convince you. Your stubbornness grew tiresome centuries ago. I will send a message when I can smuggle you in without being seen. If you do not answer it, my next message will be that of a war horn at your borders when we arrive to take Val back. Your armies might put up a fight, but in the end, we will win. Our forces are superior in all-out combat. You don’t need your memories to know that.”

The Avisai gave a high-pitched whine. Both Aleja and the Messenger ignored it, until the small dragon bumped its muzzle against Aleja’s shoulder. It was cool and damp against her, much like Garm’s.

“When can I expect your message?” Aleja said.

“Once I deal with my mutineer problem.”

“Fine. Go, before one of our scouts spots you. If your hole in the wards is open for too long, someone on my side will notice.”

The Messenger stepped away but turned before disappearing. For a moment, her mask drew close to her face, as Val’s always did when he was nervous. “Be careful. Even among the Dark Saints, dissent is tolerated, but betrayal is not. If you’re caught, your Knowing Onewilldefend you. Whatever punishment you incur will fall on him too.”

6

THE CHALICE DRAINS

“The whispers that promise the easiest path often conceal the deepest traps.” —The Book of Open Doors, Book III: The Whispers Beyond

If Aleja had slept,she couldn’t remember it. There had only been sneaking back into their bed chambers to see the Knowing One’s eyes glowing in the darkness, but her arrival had come without questions, except for through their bond, which felt knotted between them.

He’d stood, helped her unbuckle each piece of armor, and dropped it to the floor with a thud. His kiss had been deep and painful in its urgency, but they hadn’t fucked even when Aleja dragged his hand between her legs and the knot in the bond was replaced by the pulse of his desire. In the end, she’d come, rocking against his fingers, while Nicolas stroked himself lazily.

After that, there were dreams, but even in them, she was aware that she was half-awake, picturing the Messenger’s mask and Violet’s panicked face, each as inscrutable as the other. They had flown to the army camp in early morning, but the only DarkSaint she had seen so far was Merit, covered in soot, peeking over the burning heart of his forge as he watched them.

“We have a mission,” Nicolas said.

“Mission?” Aleja asked.

“We’re going to the border of the Astraelis realm. One of our scouts received a message from the other side of the wards. Orla’s speculation was right. That attack was not ordered by the Messenger. There are Astraelis among her armies that are dissatisfied with her leadership.”

Aleja had already informed him of this, but even in the chaos of the camp, there were always soldiers listening to what the Knowing One and his Dark Saints had to say. “What? Why would we meet with them? It might foul my deal with the Messenger,” she whispered.

“Garm, where are you? That damn dog doesn’t listen to a word I say anymore,” Nicolas called, looking behind him in the bustle of the camp before turning back to her and lowering his voice. “Because they’re offering a trade.”

“Trade?” she asked.

Nicolas looped his arm around hers and he pulled them into one of the tents. It smelled like the lavender smoke she had grown familiar with during her time with the medics in between her Trials. “Not in front of the soldiers. You saw how they reacted to Val’s presence. We don’t need to let them know we’re consorting with mutineers until we’re sure we have good reason to inform them.”

“Why would we?—”

“The mutineers claim they’re mere days from being able to overtake the Messenger. They say they’re prepared to offer a ceasefire in exchange for something that would do us no harm on the battlefield,” Nicolas said, his voice so low and dark that for a moment Aleja believed she must have imagined the words.

“W-Why the hell would they do that?” Aleja stammered. “It must be a trick.”

“Not if we can convince them to make a bargain with me to seal the deal. They know very well what happens to someone who disregards the terms of a magical contract with the Knowing One.”

As did Aleja. Every time she touched Nicolas’s chest, it was as if she could feel the snake still moving beneath this skin, its fangs seeping poison into the chambers of his heart. “What if they won’t make the bargain?”

“Then we have to make a split-second decision about whether or not the mutineers made a grave mistake in trying to negotiate with us.”

“Nic,” Aleja said, dropping her voice as the clatter of armored soldiers passed along the other side of the tent. “I know you don’t trust the Messenger because?—”

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