Page 47 of Each Their Own Devil

“Will they let me ride them?” she asked.

“We’ll find out.”

Aleja was too used to this sort of answer from the Otherlanders to roll her eyes. Yet when she took a few steps forward to approach the mounts, it was not fear of their sharp antlers that made her pause.

This is it, she thought. She wondered what Nicolas would say. Perhaps he would want his wife back—the one who remembered their old jokes, their old lives, the centuries they had spent together. He had never once expressed as much, but that didn’t mean that, in some way, it wouldn’t have been a relief for him not to have to explain every nuance of the Hiding Place.

“Are you coming or not?” the Messenger barked, swinging her leg over the back of her elk. With the Messenger’s height, it was an easy movement.

“Yeah,” Aleja grumbled. The Messenger gave a low whistle, and the second elk bent its front legs. Like the Avisai, it wore a saddle, though it was more of a struggle to pull herself atop it when the elk huffed and tensed its body.

“We’re going to ride fast and hard. This needs to be quick. I cannot give the appearance of having abandoned my armies,” the Messenger said.

“Lead the way,” Aleja said, craning her neck to look at the Messenger over the elk’s head. It took a few wobbling steps to the side at the sight of Garm.

“Wait, wait!” someone called from the direction of the Messenger’s home. Aleja recognized the creature that came running down the hill as one of the robed servitors that had served them dinner last night.

“What is it?” the Messenger asked sharply. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of her.”

“It’s—it’s the Otherlanders, Messenger,” the servitor stuttered. “Word comes that a large group of them have breached the wards.”

The Messenger’s mask turned to Aleja lazily. “I see. Tell me, Wrath, was this your plan all along?”

“Fuck,” Aleja barked, unable to keep the waver out of her voice. “Maybe they want to take me back as a prisoner.”

“I have always believed that no good deed goes unpunished.”

“If a single Otherlander dies on Astraelis soil, our deal is off,” Aleja hissed. “I don’t care why they’re here, but they are not met with force, do you understand? You sent a delegation to the Hiding Place once?—”

“A delegation youkilled, Lady of Wrath?—”

“I don’t care. Tell your servitor that the Otherlanders are to be met with an offer, not battle. Ask for whatever you want in exchange for me. I don’t care if it’s a damn lie, as long as it doesn’t lead to bloodshed,” Aleja snapped.

It was a surprise when the Messenger’s enormous, winged mask dipped in a nod. “It’s a simple request, but not simple in practice,” she said. “I will get word to those loyal to me as quickly as possible, but it may not grant us enough time. And that’sassuming the Otherlanders will accept the sight of a white flag on the battlefield.”

“Fuck,” Aleja huffed again. “Go. We ride as fast as you can manage until we find this damn tree. But I meant what I said before, Messenger. If a single drop of Otherlander blood is spilled on your soil, then our deal is off.”

“Noted, Wrath. Servitor, do as she says. Instruct my son to conceal the Third; he’ll know what to do. And, for the love of the First, make sure that Violet stays in her designated rooms. If she steps one foot outside of my home, you shall be the one to pay for it in blood, do you understand?”

“Yes, Messenger,” the servitor said before scurrying off.

Aleja barely managed to take a breath before the elks took off at the sound of the Messenger’s low whistle.

The beautyof the Astraelis realm was endless.

Aleja had always found the Hiding Place to her tastes, having grown up with a macabre streak all the Ruiz’s inherited. But this was the farthest she had ventured into the Astraelis realm to see the rolling green hills grow taller and taller, without growing jagged or losing the verdant plants that decorated them. It was like riding through tall storm clouds in shades of juniper and sage, smooth and welcoming, despite their dizzying height.

Yet it wasn’t long before an Avisai swept across the sky overhead.

“It seems your fellows might be the one to break your conditions,” the Messenger shouted. By the time the wordsreached her, the Avisai scout was already gone, leaving only the scar in the thin clouds as evidence.

Aleja tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry, despite the humid air and the smell of petrichor. Was Nicolas with them? She reached out with the marriage bond, but the distance between them was still too great; it was like tugging on a slack, endless rope.

It was a wonder she could keep her voice steady. Orla would have been proud. “You’d better hope that both of our troops can restrain themselves. How much farther?”

“We’re close,” the Messenger said, slowing her mount.

Aleja’s elk followed suit, but the landscape around them had not changed. “How do you know?”

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