Page 69 of Each Their Own Devil

“Military tactics. I need my knowledge. I was High General. I need to be her again,” she choked out. Her head pounded worse than when she had eaten the first fig. Maybe her skull would explode and save her the trouble.

“Hm,” her indistinct self said pensively. “Then, as now, knowledge must be earned. Why do you think the Astraelis guarded the First Tree so zealously? Back when the world was young and the Astraelis and Otherlanders were one, they ate from the tree ravenously—until the serpent was forced to stop them. No Otherlander would ever admit it, but there are some things even our minds cannot comprehend.”

“Stop with the damn philosophy lesson,” Aleja snapped, though she knew these thoughts had come from her own subconscious. “Some of my friends are probably dead, and there will be a lot more if you don’t give me my fucking memories back now.”

“You may not like everything you?—”

“If we are the same, then it shouldn’t matter whether or not I have my memories.”

“It’s not that,” the other woman said. “What good do you think you’ll be on the battlefield when you wake up disoriented, overwhelmed by memories you cannot fully parse?”

“I’ll be fine,” Aleja said firmly. She had no choice. She had to be.

“You’ll suddenly be experiencing seven hundred years of pain, anger, and regret.”

“But also knowledge and experience. Do it,” Aleja shouted, her throat filling with the taste of bitter venom. How much time had already passed? Were Authorities surrounding her, unableto believe their luck at having so easily hunted down the Lady of Wrath?

When the woman reached out, her hand came sharply into focus. Aleja jumped back, summoning fire to her hands. Here, the fire burned in jewel tones—blurry sapphire blues and emerald greens, strikingly beautiful despite her desperation to return to the battlefield.

“I’m trying to help you,” the woman whispered. “I understand that it hasn’t been easy, hosting me all these years.”

“Save the apologies for later.”

“Exactly. I don’t think you know what you’re asking for. In both our self-interests, I’m not going to give you what you want. At least, not right away.”

“What? You can’t do that. I need?—”

“You’re right. You’ve already eaten the fruit; I can no more stop the memories from returning to you than you can stop the hordes of Authorities by asking them nicely. But I can take the memories for you, keep them here in this locked room, until you’re ready to receive them.”

“What the fuck?” Aleja screamed, unable to stop herself from hurling a wave of ocean-colored flames at her other self. Despite the cool tones of this world, conjured entirely by the fig, the fire burned as it did only when she was at her most wrathful. Her other self was unfazed.

A sob tore from Aleja’s chest as her fire sputtered out. “Please don’t do this. I need to save him. I need to save all of them.”

“You already can. The last Lady of Wrath didn’t know anything you don’t already know. I will give you your memories back, I promise, but it will be like waking from a dream?—”

“You can’t do this. I ate the fig. It was a gift from the First Tree to me—you can’t?—”

“My dear Lady of Wrath,” said the indistinct version of herself, in a tone dangerously close to pity. “As we’ve alreadyrehashed several times during this conversation, we’re the same person. I’m not doing this to you. You’re doing it to yourself.”

With that, her other self rushed forward with such speed that Aleja was caught off guard. As she tumbled backward, the fall pulled her back to the world she had come from.

She openedher eyes to the scent of burnt feathers, smoke, and the metallic twang of magic. As she rolled to her side, Aleja realized she was on the edge of a precipice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. To her left was a gaping void—like the ones Orla summoned—from which came the sound of screaming.

“What the hell are you doing, Wrath? Wake up!” Orla shouted. Her Umbramare, lighter and quicker than the others, had been the first to reach Aleja. But she could feel the ground vibrating beneath her from the approach of the others.

“Where are?—”

“Taddeas and his armies were forced to retreat. Where is Val?” Orla barked.

“We need to buy him more time.”

“That’s not what I asked. Your orders were to guard him. Why have you abandoned your post?”

Aleja didn’t have a good answer for this. Desperation had driven her to take a bite of the red fig, and she’d gained fuck all. “I can help,” she said weakly.

“I have no problem pulling rank on you. Go, Wrath. Protect Val. We’ll do all we can to lure them away,” Orla said, turning her Umbramare away before Aleja could argue.

As she ran back down the hill, Aleja searched her memories, but there was nothing new—only the slightly hungover feeling she’d had the last time she ate the fruit of the First Tree. Garm was there to greet her as she made it back to Val’s position.

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