Page 57 of Each Their Own Devil

The Astraelis camp lay to the south of the building, tucked into the fields where she and Taddeas had trained before her Trials. It resembled the camp she had spent weeks in herself: semi-permanent tents on wooden structures, draped in linen covered with aging embroidery. Black dragons, gargoyles, and the monstrous animal hybrids were hidden in gardens woven from red and gold thread. All that was missing was the sound of Merit’s forge, the constant clang of iron against iron, and the good-natured murmur of soldiers during those rare moments when it was quiet enough to let their guard down.

The wards were the only reason the Third was hosted among the Astraelis; his cage stood at the camp’s center. From beneaththe shawl, the cage was silent, but the Third’s tail had slipped out from under the tarp, flicking lazily against the ground, seemingly unconcerned by the change of scenery.

The Principalities kept their distance from the cage, except for Val, who sat cross-legged on the ground, making notes in a small leather journal.

“What have you come up with?” Aleja asked.

Val’s head snapped up, apparently so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed her approach. “Many interesting things. How many of them will be relevant, we have yet to see. And don’t give me that look, Lady of Wrath—I’ll explain when I can put it into words simple enough for a layperson to understand. If we have that long.”

Aleja glanced away from the cage. She knew she was welcome to enter the palace, but the peril of her own home seemed sharper and more dangerous than that of the Astraelis camp. Besides, the Principalities avoided speaking to her at all costs. “The other Dark Saints are going to come speak with the Third. I need you to let them. Even if they don’t believe me, they’re likely to believe him. Where is your mother keeping Violet?”

“I saw her wandering around the edge of the southern wards.”

“Hm,” Aleja muttered.

But as she finally made up her mind to brave the palace, she came across Violet and the Messenger first. The height difference between them was striking at a distance, until Aleja remembered that she was shorter than Violet and probably looked even more ridiculous at the Messenger’s side.

“Will you scurry away, Lady of Wrath, or brave walking by the woman who was once the Dark Saint of Pride in waiting?” the Messenger asked, turning her mask toward Aleja.

“Fuck you,” Aleja snapped. “We may be allies in this, but that doesn’t mean you know shit. I need to make my way to my chambers. I’d suggest neither of you try to follow.”

“Al, wait,” Violet said, as the Messenger walked away, giving Aleja a severe nod.

“I have information that the Otherlanders will want,” Violet continued.

“Lower your damn voice,” Aleja said, despite herself. The warning wasn’t necessary—none of the Astraelis seemed interested in getting anywhere near the palace’s entrance.

“Even with the distance, I can feel the Authorities’ minds. They’re excited for the Avaddon and have made their followers excited for it too,” Violet whispered.

“Then why not attack us here? By now, they must know we’re trying to stop it,” Aleja questioned, though she couldn’t deny the relief that flooded her. This conversation was infinitely easier than any other she could have hoped to have with Violet.

“If you believed you were about to die either way, would you do it in battle or from the comfort of your home? They don’t believe we can stop the Avaddon, but the Authorities know we’re going to try. They are gathering somewhere… They’ve mostly shut me out, but I can feel it. We need to move fast.”

“We? Who are you talking about, Violet? You’re not an Otherlander, and to be honest, it doesn’t seem like you’re entirely welcome among the Astraelis either.”

Violet’s eyes could barely blaze. She looked toward Aleja with a scowl stretched across her face. “I know I’ve fucked things up between us, but you didn’t see what I saw, Al, and I don’t care if you hate me, as long as you’re alive to do so. I’ve already told you all I wanted to. If I pick up something from them, I’ll send word with Val or the Messenger.”

“Fine. I’ll pass that along,” Aleja said. She was not quite petty enough to shove Violet out of the way as she passed. The womanwho had once been her best friend swayed on her feet, while the fig that could cure her, grant her immortality, was tucked into Aleja’s bag. The wave of guilt that followed the thought was painful.

Aleja begged her legs to move—and this time, they did, retracing a path she had taken so many times, climbing back to the palace after gorging herself on wine, meat, cheese, and conversation at Bonnie’s cabin.

She had to find Nicolas before their meeting, so he could speak with the Third. Racing through the palace’s winding, art-filled halls, she was watched by the eternal eyes of saints, angels, and long-abandoned gods. The tether brought her to a familiar room, with its large painting of Orpheus glancing back at Eurydice—a moment of sorrow set against an ultramarine-blue sky.

Nicolas’s wings had been glamoured away; even though he still wore form-fitting leather armor, something about the sight of him like this was so human—the man Aleja only saw in private.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “For your reception at the borders. You know I couldn’t?—”

“Don’t. You did the right thing. We all got here alive, that’s what matters. Have you spoken to the others?”

Nicolas reached for her hand, entwining their fingers and pulling her close. He was so warm in the cold marble atmosphere of the room.

“Amicia will back you. Taddeas too. I spoke with Orla—there’s no point trying to convince Merit without her—and she is eager to speak with the Third herself. Bonnie has made herself scarce. She’s not in her cabin, nor has anyone seen her on the grounds, but I have no doubt she’ll show up to the meeting.”

“They’ll want to watch me eat the fig, won’t they?” Aleja asked. “I can’t stop wondering what it’ll be like.”

“In the ancient days, when the Otherlanders and the Astraelis were one, we consumed the tree’s figs. Nowadays, only the Messenger eats them to gain the blessing of the First.”

“Well, I’ve been inside the mind of an Authority, and I’m obviously perfectly psychologically sound now,” she said, forcing a breathy laugh that wasn’t entirely bitter. It did little to soften the concern in Nicolas’s eyes.

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