Page 58 of Each Their Own Devil

“Aleja, I know this isn’t the ideal time to bring this up, but you need to remember your bargain with the Second. Your time with the Messenger may have been a good thing. She was weakness, just like everything else in the universe. You have to look for something you can exploit.”

“I know,” Aleja whispered. Knowing she would still need to kill the Messenger brought a strange wave of emotion through her—not the kind of anger or despair that brought fire to her hands, but something too complex to name. She wasn’t sure how guilt and relief could exist so keenly at the same time, especially because every logical part of her knew that guilt was misplaced.

The Messenger had killed her friends. The Messenger was the reason for the last war. But the Messenger had also spared Aleja’s and Nicolas’s lives. The Messenger loved her son so dearly that she was willing to surrender her armies to the mutineers to keep him safe. The Messenger had made Aleja tea with lavender and honey.

“Don’t, dove,” Nicolas said. She was sure he hadn’t needed the marriage bond to understand her thoughts. “I know it’s hard without your memories, but the Messenger has brought this realm nothing but blood and pain?—”

“There’s another thing, Nic,” Aleja interrupted. She must have been in a sorry state if she would rather have this conversation now. “I took two figs from the First Tree. A violet one, which the serpent said would give me knowledge of the Avaddon, and a red one, that she said would restore mymemories. All of them. From every life. The Messenger thinks it will help me fight the Avaddon.”

The emotion that came through the bond felt like a static tingle against the inside of her skin. If her thoughts about killing the Messenger were complicated, then this was a hopelessly tangled knot created over centuries. His silver eyes dimmed as he gave a slow blink to buy himself time before answering.

“IknowI should eat it for the sake of the war, and I can’t understand why it scares me so much. If you want me to…” she began, needing to break even this brief silence.

“No. My desires matter nothing here. This war is being fought on different terms than the last; so far, your point of view—your ability to see things from a new angle—has only helped us. You might be gaining one advantage, but you’ll be losing another. And as for me… I will love you until we’re both dust, whether you know the secret name of every star in the sky or decide that you’d rather spend the rest of your life studying a single painting. This is a choice that only you can make. I won’t say anything else on the matter.”

“Nicolas—”

“I mean it. What you do with that fig is your choice, and whatever happens, I will be deliriously happy to watch you wander around a museum when the war is over and all of the bells in the world ring for us. Don’t ask me what I want, dove. Not for my sake, but for yours. I have nothing left to speak on the subject.”

When he pulled her closer, she let herself be drawn in. With her cheek pressed against his chest, Nicolas burned against her.

12

THE FRUIT OF THE TREE

“To see the world through the eyes of your enemy is to let their lies take root.” —The Book of Open Doors,Book VI: The Crossing of Worlds

Aleja had seenOrla lingering around the Third’s cage shortly before their meeting was due to start. It wasn’t the usual gathering place for the Dark Saints, but a random salon filled with paintings of the human St. Sebastian, pierced with arrows, and a haphazard arrangement of chairs. The Dark Saint of Envy was paler than usual as she entered and said, “I’m not sure if I like this evidence.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Aleja said. “It just is.”

“Can we trust the Third?”

“Can’t you always trust in death?”

“Are you really playing word games right now?” Orla said with no real malice in her voice.

“It’s not a word game. It’s reality.”

“Oh, shut up, Al,” Orla muttered without venom.

The Messenger came to the meeting with Violet in tow, which Aleja found extremely annoying. Bonnie, who had arrived ahead of everyone else to claim a seat in the corner, was enveloped in a darkness unusual for a Dark Saint who usually wore sundresses and a golden rye-and-wheat crown. That crown was secured on her dark curls now, shining like a halo, but no light reached Bonnie’s eyes.

Violet and the Messenger had been the last to enter, followed by Taddeas with his axe strapped to his back. They dispersed silently to the remaining empty chairs, forming three points of a broad triangle. Merit and Orla sat on the floor together in the corner, their legs crossed in such a confusing array that Aleja soon stopped trying to decipher which boot belonged to whom. Amicia took a chair near Nicolas.

At the center of the room was a black blanket that Aleja supposed was meant for her. Doing this in front of everyone was starting to feel like a very bad idea. Maybe she should’ve just popped the damn fig in her mouth beneath the First Tree and relayed whatever she’d learned to an incredulous audience.

“Shall we introduce ourselves? Hello, I’m the Messenger. I have few hobbies outside of war, but I do enjoy interior design,” the Messenger said.

“I swear to the Second that if you try to be funny, I will open a void in your torso,” Orla said from the corner.

The Messenger’s mouth stretched into a flat frown below her mask. “So much for the hospitality of the Otherlanders.”

“You’re getting the best of our hospitality,” Bonnie said from her corner. “You’re lucky your son thought to abscond from your failing realm before you did. I don’t know about any of you, but I’d rather not hear the Messenger speak again until our Lady of Wrath consumes the fig.”

“Lady of Bounty,” Nicolas said, his voice not quite a warning but sharper than usual. “If you please, allow me to lay out ourterms to the Messenger. It really dampens the sense of suspense when you interject like that.”

“My apologies, Knowing One,” Bonnie said, sinking back into her chair with a smirk that made it clear she wasn’t very sorry at all.

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