Page 84 of Each Their Own Devil

The morning after their return, Nicolas had taken the Messenger’s heart, still bloody in the satchel Aleja had carried it in, and left their quarters without a word. They hadn’t discussedwho would deliver it to the Second, but Aleja knew her own reluctance had been written too plainly on her face.

These days, they both still donned leather armor before leaving the palace. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but many Astraelis soldiers remained camped on the grounds. Aleja had damaged a vast swath of their realm, yes, but their presence here felt less like a necessity and more like curiosity.

Taddeas, ever the diplomat, seemed perfectly content to lunch with the not-quite-refugees, especially now that Jack was back at his side. With Jack around, Taddeas spoke more freely, though even he could offer little insight. “All their lives, they were told we’re treacherous, greedy, and excessive. Now, after fighting beside us, they’re trying to understand how they were wrong.”

Outside, Garm’s front paws landed on Aleja’s shoulders, so he could give her a wet kiss on the cheek. “There you are! It’s been ages. Come on, come on!”

He led them into the woods around the Hiding Place, which had survived the war unscathed. Without thinking, she reached for Nicolas’s hand and grasped it firmly. Though she did not turn to him, his smile was wide enough to be visible in her peripheral vision.

“Here we are!” Garm barked as they neared the open clearing where she had once found the young Avisai willing to carry her in secret to her meeting with the Messenger. And just like last time, that Avisai was still in the clearing, albeit a little worse for wear. She couldn’t stop the happy gasp that escaped her as she rushed to the dragon-like creature, who still had a fair number of fresh bandages wrapped oddly around her torso and neck, as if the healers hadn’t quite known what to do but had tried their best anyway.

“You’re okay,” Aleja breathed, leaning in close, taking in the creature’s smell—like wet rocks, leather, and a very cold winter’s day.

Through the marriage bond, she felt Nicolas preen.

It wasanother week before Aleja woke up having decided to kill the Second.

It was fortunate that Val had returned to them a week before, with his mask still in tatters and one bright hazel eye that seemed fixed on Aleja, no matter where she moved. There had been a fight, mediated by Taddeas, who formed a barrier between the Knowing One and their ex-prisoner, but neither of them had seemed particularly angry with the other. Just tired enough to bark out a few insults and retreat to their beds—Val’s, now in a previously unoccupied room where someone had dropped a few pillows and a scratchy wool blanket on the floor.

And that night, as usual, Aleja had dreamed. This time, it was of the night she had gone to beg the Second to spare her husband and let her face his punishment instead. She had pictured this moment many times, but it was something else entirely to relive it like this. To know that she had fallen to her knees, just this once, in front of the Second and asked him for the impossible.

Now, she could remember how the waters of his well had rippled. How he had emerged one enormous, clawed hand at a time—wings, and horns, and cloven hooves. But Aleja could recall that she had not been afraid of the Second. The Hiding Place was safe, for the moment; the war had ended, in a drawn-out way that had only seemed to truly conclude because bothsides were too tired. The Second could do whatever he wanted to her, and it wouldn’t have changed anything.

Aleja had clutched her bleeding finger against her chest, waiting for him to slash through her with his claws, feeling a deep detachment from her body. She didn’t even think it would hurt. But the Second hadn’t struck her. He had spoken.

YOU’LL BE BACK. YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A DAMN THORN IN MY SIDE NOT TO BE.

The Aleja of now could remember a vague sense of surprise, as if feeling the emotion through a filter that removed much of the nuance. “If ever I return here,” her old self had said, “it will be to kill you. For what you would have done to the Knowing One. For what you’re doing to me. What was the point of rebelling when we were just going to turn into the very thing we were rebelling against?”

THERE IT IS.

“There what is, you son of a bitch?”

NOW YOU’RE BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND, LADY OF WRATH.

“If you have something to say, say it. I have served you for decades now, Second. I have gone to war in your name. If anything, you owe it to me to be honest. You owe it to all of the Otherlanders.”

The Second was silent for a long time.

YOU’RE RIGHT. WE ARE ALL KEPT DOWN BY OUR CHAINS. I AMYOURS, DEAR LADY OF WRATH. A CHAIN THAT IS DIFFICULT TO BREAK, CERTAINLY, BUT NOT IMPOSSIBLE.

“What does that mean?”

IT MEANS THAT WE DO NOT ALWAYS RECOGNIZE OUR CHAINS. IT MEANS THAT CHAINS CAN BECOME SO COMFORTABLE THAT WE ARE AFRAID TO BREAKTHEM FOR FEAR OF WHAT WE MIGHT DO ONCE WE ARE FREE.

“Cryptic Otherlander nonsense,” the Aleja of the past said. It would not be the last time, but when she uttered those words again it would be as Alejandra Ruiz, a caretaker in the Gentle Hearts agency, who had lit a black candle to summon the devil in the hopes of finding her long-missing best friend. “Just say it plainly, Second.”

I CANNOT. THAT IS THE THING ABOUT CHAINS. YOU CANNOT ASK YOUR JAILER TO BREAK THEM FOR YOU. SEE YOU SOON, LADY OF WRATH.

And, with that, the Lady of Wrath—who had become a Dark Saint after her husband lit the black candle to save her from a snakebite on her ankle—ended her first long life to await the next.

The new Aleja woke as if suddenly seeing a door in a wall she’d stared at for years, a door that had been there all along but had remained unseen. When she glanced at Nicolas beside her, still asleep, she knew immediately that he would not be hard to convince.

It was Val she worried about. The other Dark Saints, she thought, might be easier to win over. Taddeas would back her. Merit would be drawn by the challenge of testing his limits. Orla had been surly but still hovered around the palace, while Bonnie mostly roamed the forests. She’d been kind to Aleja in their last conversations, but the distance she’d shown since Violet fled had hardened into unmistakable bitterness

Her thoughts were heavy as she walked the long path to Bonnie’s cabin, unsure why she had come here instead of heading straight to Val. By the time she raised her hand to knock on the door, she realized the air was already fragrant with the smell of frying meat and let herself in.

Bonnie looked up, wiping her hands on her apron. Garm was dozing on the couch in the small salon past the kitchen, his paws twitching in a dream.

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