Page 78 of Each Their Own Devil

“I love you,” she whispered again, and this time, the words carried the weight of eternity.

“I love you too,” Nicolas said. His voice was choked, but steady.

The cold becamecomforting after a while, like sinking into an unmade bed in a room with the window open in winter. Only this time, there would be no gradual heating of the sheets.

Nicolas was calling her name, but the Third was so loud in her head that she could barely hear him anymore.

That’s it, Wrath. Let go, and we will walk together through my realm. You have been dead before, and it didn’t much bother you then, did it? There will be no difference now.

It’s not true.Aleja wanted to sob. Last time, she hadchosenher fate.

You did this time too, the Third countered, as though plucking her thoughts from the bitter cold that filled her.

She tried to open her eyes and found a small sliver of light breaking through. Nicolas’s shadows must have dispersed. She was still on the Umbramare but had no sense of how long they had been riding.

“Are you still with me, dove?” Nicolas whispered.

She nodded faintly, unsure if the motion was large enough for him to feel. “Get me in front of the Authorities. I can…”

What are you doing, Wrath?the Third asked, his voice laced with cold fury.

You can take me, but you’re not taking my friends with you.

You have no magic left.

I have yours.

“Anything in front of me is going to die,” she said out loud with all the strength she could muster. “Make sure that everyone is out of the way.”

Nicolas took a sharp breath against her back. “I’ll try,” was all the Knowing One said in response.

From the corner of her eye, she caught something moving to either side of her: two splashes of red. One was Orla’s bright hair; her helmet must have been knocked off in the fight. The other was Taddeas’s magic, dimly glowing around his axe as he rode beside her.

“The mutineers flanked us. Bonnie and Merit have fallen back to the border. We’re out of Ignisium too,” Orla barked.

All Aleja could manage was a whisper. “Amicia.”

“If she’s still alive, then she’s surrounded by Authorities,” Taddeas answered grimly. “But Amicia has always been clever and quick. Maybe she had a chance to get out.”

Aleja wanted to tell them what she had seen—the way Amicia had been sprawled on the ground, waiting to die while begging her to run. “She?—”

But it wasn’t exhaustion that silenced her. She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone around her knew exactly what happened to those the Authorities caught. She slipped away into the cold for a moment, and when she came back, it was to another conversation.

“—at this point, this is a suicide mission, Knowing One,” Orla said. “You should fall back to the wards. Let Taddeas and me force the Authorities to scatter so that you can lead everyone back to the palace. You’ll at least have a chance to defend yourself there, and someone is going to have to appoint new Dark Saints to take our places.”

Please, Aleja begged silently. She couldn’t take Taddeas away from Jack. She couldn’t let Orla—brilliant, sharp Orla—die as a sacrifice. “No,” she breathed.

“As of this moment, you’re a foot soldier, Wrath,” Orla snapped. “You have no say here.”

“I resign,” Taddeas barked. “Welcome back, High General. What she says goes, unless the Knowing One says otherwise.”

“Our Lady of Wrath has never led us astray before. Come on. Ride,” Nicolas ordered.

“If we survive, I want a promotion for dealing with this nonsense,” Orla muttered, but as they surged forward, Aleja caught sight of her shining armor, keeping pace.

A deep bark echoed in the distance—Garm, likely signaling he was running out of energy to keep the Authorities flying in circles. Aleja let out a high whistle of warning and prayed he would understand to get the hell out of her way.

“Get me in front of as many of them as possible. I’ll need to aim… I… Amicia.” Aleja knew she wasn’t making sense, but if she was going to channel death through herself as she had into the stiletto blade, she had to stop suppressing it. She had to embrace the cold that squeezed her heart and clogged her throat.

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