Page 18 of Each Their Own Devil (Our Lady of Fire #3)

“A mother wages her own quiet war.” — The Book of Open Doors , Book VII: The Return to the Threshold

“You never read those books, did you?” was the first thing Taddeas said the next time they were alone together. It happened to coincide with the moment Nicolas summoned an army of Umbramares from the earth as their vanguard into the Astraelis realm.

“Why do you insist on asking questions you know you won’t like the answer to?” Aleja asked, swinging her leg over an Umbramare that was slightly smaller than the others.

“I wanted you to read those books because I have a slight interest in your survival—one I think you don’t share,” Taddeas answered.

“It’s because I didn’t have time , Tad,” Aleja said. It was true. There had been only another night in the Hiding Place before Nicolas decided it was time to put their plans into motion. “Are there any with a crash course on dealing with a horde of Authorities and then killing a goddess?”

“Not unless you’re willing to read between the lines,” Taddeas said. “Listen to me very carefully and remember that I’m being literal right now. You’ll be riding between me and Nicolas, and if both of us die, Orla is next in command. If she dies, then it’s you—not because anyone agreed to it, but because no one else was willing to take the job. I need you to remember that you are impulsive. I spent years reading old battle reports from the last war, and it was true even then. You’ve been lucky so far, but whatever your first thought is, it’s not always your best thought. Whenever you can, doubt yourself.”

“That’s encouraging, Tad. Thanks.”

“That’s High General to you right now, Al. When you decide to take my place, I’ll happily turn over the title. For now, you’re still under my command, so I order you to tell me your strategy when we reach the wall of Authorities.”

They had gone over it what seemed like a thousand times in the past few hours. “Run. And if I can’t, throw so much fire at them that they’re forced to hold back. Use the explosive packets when I see an opportunity. What about you, Taddeas? Taking out the last two nearly killed you, and there are sure to be more than your magic can handle this time.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“My well-being doesn’t matter right now, only Val’s. He’s the only one with a chance of stopping the Avaddon.”

“What about Jack?” Aleja asked, as her Umbramare pranced anxiously beneath her.

“Jack is as safe as he can be with the fey in the Green Country. He always wanted to go there. So let’s do our best to win this, Lady of Wrath. I’m very tired of being afraid for myself and everyone I love.”

“Me too,” Aleja whispered, urging her Umbramare on as they approached the wards, with what remained of the Astraelis army trailing behind them.

Not every Otherlander had chosen to march alongside them, but most had. Even though she hadn’t eaten the red fig yet, she understood how surreal the army behind her would have seemed to her past self—soldiers in black and soldiers in pastel blues, golds, and pinks, all working together for the first time since their realms were torn apart. Her voice dropped even lower. “Do you think this might actually mean peace between us?”

“I think that if we’re all dead, then there aren’t going to be many chances for peace negotiations, are there? Come, we’re lagging behind. It’s time to catch up to the Knowing One and confirm our orders.”

They came across Amicia first, whom Aleja had seen earlier in another heated but whispered argument with Orla. Amicia might have saved Otherlander lives when she unleashed her power during the raid in the mountains, but Aleja had no idea whether she’d had time to build it back up again. It was clear she wasn’t letting it slowly release as usual, or anyone without resistance to her charms at the palace would be falling all over each other.

“You all right, Ami?” she called as she passed on her Umbramare.

Amicia responded with the typical salute of the Hiding Place: she touched two fingers of her left hand to her left temple. Her cheeks were flushed from the morning cold, but it did little to hide the pallor of her skin. It was hard to believe how little time had passed between Amicia’s injury and now—though it stretched out in Aleja’s mind, like an enormous gulf separating the world that was from the world that had been.

The plan was simple: after crossing the Astraelis border, the majority of their armies would divert south to engage the mutineers under Taddeas and Orla’s lead, Bonnie and Amicia alongside them. Nicolas would lead a second group deeper into the realm to confront the Authorities guarding the First. Aleja—who had seen the spot where the First slept—would join a smaller group of Otherlander soldiers carting the Third, which would slow them down.

“Hey, Tadd, before we separate… I want to tell you that I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want this. I should have taken over when you asked?—”

“No. You were right back then. You’re too inexperienced. It would have been cruel to you and a disaster for our armies. Soon, this will all be over, and we can get you properly trained. Be careful out there, Al. Don’t lose focus, not even for an instant. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Taddeas picked up the pace, cutting off her chance to answer. It wasn’t like him, but perhaps any goodbye would feel too much like the last.

It was a shock to see Nicolas on his Umbramare riding beside the Messenger on one of her great elks. Behind them clustered a group of soldiers around the Third’s slow-moving cage. One of his claws hung between the bars, flexing as she passed.

As Taddeas and the other Dark Saints separated, so did a large number of their armies, moving away in unison like a great murmuration of birds. Aleja wished for the view of the Avisai gliding overhead—among their numbers was the smaller dragon that had carried her to the palace.

“The ride will take two hours,” the Messenger said once Aleja was in earshot. “And it’ll be a treacherous two hours. There are plenty of Thrones patrolling these skies, not to mention the Authorities that will appear as we near the First’s stronghold. Remember that our?—”

“Our priority is protecting Val and the Third,” Nicolas interrupted sharply. “May I remind you that you’re not the one in command here? This is a joint effort.”

“And may I remind you, Knowing One, that we are on Astraelis territory. My soldiers and I know these lands. I’m sending a few scouts ahead to assess any enemies in our path. Do you agree with that decision?”

He gave a dismissive gesture that clearly meant yes. Aleja tugged on the marriage bond. She might have the luxury of not remembering the Messenger, but she was also the one who would have to kill her. The more the Messenger trusted her, the easier that grim task would be. Again, she tried not to feel a pang of guilt. Perhaps Nicolas could sense it through the bond.

When he addressed the Messenger next, his tone softened. “Have them take a few Otherlander scouts with them as well. Your soldiers may have experience with this landscape, but not with fighting Thrones. We understand their weaknesses better than even you.”

“A concession I can agree to, Knowing One,” the Messenger replied, and Aleja did not fail to feel the flicker of his annoyance at the word concession .

The scouts peeled away like the other soldiers as she raised a hand with a series of gestures that, with her height atop the elk, would surely have been visible across the small troop they had been left with. Nicolas’s command was not quite as sophisticated. He barked an order at the officer nearest to him, and she fell back to inform the others.

A long silence followed, as if not even the clopping of hooves or the rattle of the Third’s cage could break through the oppressive anxiety. The cloudy sky felt close to the earth, wedging their small group between two impenetrable planes. Even the Messenger’s mask twitched as Val’s tended to, fanning out wide around her face as if it could sense a change in the winds. It did not feel entirely right that Aleja should ride up here, alongside the respective leaders of their armies, but every time she tried to urge her Umbramare to slow, it refused.

It was another half an hour before the Messenger raised a hand again and said, “Knowing One, call down your Avisai. We’re getting close. From here, the Authorities will spot them before we have the chance to make the first move.”

Nicolas whistled into the air, and with a whoosh that sent the loose strands of Aleja’s dark red hair flying into her face, the two great dragons joined them on the ground with a high whine of displeasure. As the sound tapered off, Aleja listened closely, as if somehow, she’d be able to hear the sounds of Taddeas and his armies, who had by now surely been met with resistance from the Astraelis mutineers.

“Violet, to the front,” the Messenger barked.

It seemed as though Violet herself was surprised by this request. She had marched alongside the Third’s cage, occasionally muttering something to him or listening closely to a low voice behind the tarp.

Aleja again tried to sus out whether she’d eaten the fig. There was no true immortality among the Otherlanders or the Astraelis, other than that neither would succumb to age or disease. Aleja had to assume that Violet would still die if one of the Authorities tore its teeth into her, but her odds would be better if she could run with her usual athletic quickness.

“She’s been assigned a band of our best soldiers to accompany her,” Nicolas said. He had no reason to comfort Aleja when it came to Violet. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she had said anything remotely generous about her old best friend in her husband’s presence, but he must have noticed her tremor of concern.

“Good. We’ll need her alive as long as possible if she’s going to draw the Authorities away,” Aleja said, trying to keep her voice flat, but she had the feeling that neither Nicolas nor the Messenger would buy the coldness in her words.

When Violet passed, accompanied by a band of Otherlanders alongside two Principality mages, she desperately tried to catch Aleja’s eye. They had shared a hundred silent conversations—gossiping at bars about too-drunk frat boys or stern professors in the general education classes they took together, or Aleja goading Violet to finally ask out the barista she had a desperate crush on. Violet had always had an uncanny knack for communicating entire paragraphs with a few slow blinks.

This is your last chance to forgive me , the grim downturn of Violet’s mouth seemed to say.

I already forgave you , Aleja replied with a raised eyebrow. If you haven’t eaten that fig, I’m going to be so damn mad at you.

But if Violet had an answer, it was swallowed by the soldiers that surrounded her.

Then, aside from a handful of Otherlander commanders and Astraelis mages acting as guards for the Third’s cage, she was nearly alone with Nicolas, the Messenger, and Val. Aleja’s heart beat erratically beneath her sternum, accompanied by a pain that felt like fluttering electrical charges. She had never wished so badly to be back in her dingy city apartment, with its piles of coffee cups, a long-untouched USB drive containing her unfinished art history thesis, and the heavy binders full of newspaper clippings about Violet.

Nicolas let the Messenger trail ahead so his Umbramare could trot beside Aleja’s. “Remember, our primary objective is getting Val and the Third to the First. Violet’s distraction won’t be enough. The Messenger and I will act as bait—the Authorities won’t be able to resist the temptation to chase us. I want you to stick close to Val in case he needs backup. He’s a formidable mage, but if he’s distracted with his ritual, it would be all too easy for the Authorities to overtake him.”

“We’ve already gone over this,” Aleja said, sending fondness through the marriage bond that she couldn’t express in words. “What are you actually trying to say?”

“I need you to swear to me that you’ll stick by Val’s side, no matter what happens. If he dies, everyone dies—losing him so you can save me wouldn’t do any good. Do you understand, soldier?”

“Yes, Knowing One,” she said grimly. She had already thought about this, of course, but hearing it said aloud now, when they were so close to the First’s stronghold, made the possibility of watching Nicolas in mortal danger and doing nothing feel all too much like an inevitability.

“I mean it, dove. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the Messenger will have my back.”

“Understood,” Aleja said, then dropped her voice. “I love you, by the way. If the world doesn’t end, I hope you’ll finally be taking me on that honeymoon to Italy.”

“Our next dance will be on the cobblestone streets of Florence.”

“Swear it to me?”

“I swear.”

Ahead of them, the Messenger yanked on the reins of her elk, bringing it to a halt. The Umbramares followed, with uneasy hisses and sighs, as if Nicolas’s anxiety was channeled through them.

“We’ll be faster on our mounts,” the Messenger said. “But we’re in the Authorities’ territory. By now, they’ll have spotted one of our scouts. We should be prepared to fight at any moment. Son, tell me you have good news.”

Val was so engrossed in one of his luminariums that he barely looked up when his mother addressed him. “Hm? Oh, yes. It is absolutely possible that this could work.”

“Possible?” Nicolas hissed.

“It’s better than highly improbable. The ritual will take roughly ten minutes. If you can buy me that much time, I should be able to channel the Third’s magic through me and into the First, nullifying her existence safely.”

Ten minutes on the battlefield might as well have been an eternity, but it wasn’t worth pointing out. This was the most excited Aleja had ever heard Val—he sounded positively gleeful. To her right, the Messenger frowned and said, “Don’t take too much satisfaction in this, son, or you’ll find yourself turning into something like me. We do this out of necessity.”

“Yes, Mother,” Val said with a hint of wistfulness, still gazing into his luminarium.

“The Messenger and I will flank the First’s resting place from the west to draw away whatever Authorities Violet hasn’t managed to pull toward her. That will be your one and only chance, soldiers,” Nicolas called to the small group of Astraelis and Otherlanders behind them. “But once the Authorities realize what we’re up to, there’s no doubt they’ll turn their attention to you. Today, we’re all rebels—the universe is telling us it’s our time to die, and we’re answering back with a resounding no. Remember what you’re fighting for.”

There was a warm rush through the marriage bond—one more silent “I love you”—before Nicolas locked eyes with Aleja, nodded, and turned away with the Messenger and her officer behind him.

“Oh,” Val said, the frown obvious in his voice even before he looked up. “You’re the only Dark Saint left with me?”

Aleja tutted, urging her Umbramare forward. To her right, Garm shone, all black fur and silver armor. To her left, the small Avisai’s claws scratched lines into the grass. “The others will be busy dealing with the Authorities. Besides, I’m the Dark Saint of Wrath and Fire.”

“Yes, but you’re a bit…green, aren’t you?”

“The Astraelis I’ve killed would say otherwise, and the smaller our group is, the less attention we’ll attract. Come on. We’ll make a large loop and approach from the rear. There’s still a chance we can take them by surprise.”

If the Astraelis realm was beautiful, then the place where the First slept was beyond human words. Aleja wondered if this was why the Astraelis language still sounded like static-filled nonsense to her. Perhaps they had adjectives to describe the almost kaleidoscopic shades of green—so numerous that Aleja was certain a few were colors she had never seen before. The sun broke through the clouds in gentle lines, grazing the earth with tender light. The hills were flatter here, but their shapes became more varied: wide swoops and swells, like an ocean turned solid.

The effect was somewhat dampened by the Authorities that swarmed a single low mound. From Aleja’s vantage point, she counted twelve and felt a sudden stab of fear for Nicolas and Violet, each of whom must have drawn far more away.

While the Authorities didn’t seem to realize they were already being watched, their hive minds kept their wings beating in perfect time—one creature divided into separate bodies. Occasionally, the mass broke enough to give her a glimpse of the rough-hewn rock that had once been a statue of the First. The place she had seen in her hallucinations. The place from which the roots of the First Tree were fed.

“Well,” Val said, “what now?”

One of the Otherlander officers guarding the Third’s cage saluted Aleja. He looked more inhuman than most in the Hiding Place—pale blue skin, gold eyes, and pointed ears. When he opened his mouth, his teeth were small but very sharp. “Dark Saint, if I may?”

“Of course,” she said, so damn grateful someone had spoken before her.

“The Authorities will naturally seek you out—unless they catch sight of another high-value target first. I’m carrying several vials of Ignisium—incredibly combustible when paired with fire. I’ll try to lead the last of them away, but if you see that I’m swallowed, you’ll still have a moment to aim?—”

“No. No one is going on a suicide mission. I already have some Ignisium, but I might need more,” she snapped. “Give me the vial.”

“Lady of Wrath, I’m afraid I must disagree with this decision. After Val, it’s most important that you?—”

“The High General and I worked out a plan,” she said. This was mostly true. “That’s why we have an Avisai with us.”

For a moment, Aleja felt pity for these soldiers, who had fallen under her command through no fault of their own. The little dragon huffed, but it was the sharp-toothed officer who answered. “The Avisai are faster and can fly higher than the Authorities, Lady of Wrath, but they tire quickly. We lost many of them to such diversion tactics.”

“It’s not going to be a diversion tactic. I just need to get close to them from the air for a moment. Garm, stay near Val. As soon as the rest of you see your opening, advance as quickly as possible.”

Her hellhound gave a low grunt of agreement as she climbed from the Umbramare onto the Avisai, with only half an idea of how she was going to pull this off. The Authorities’ scent was familiar by now, washing over her as she urged the Avisai skyward and tried to balance herself in a way that would allow her to raise her left hand. This wasn’t to shoot fire but to aim the small packets of Ignisium she had taken from the officer’s coat.

“Listen to me,” she told the Avisai. “We’re going to fly fast and low, and you need to outmaneuver them. Do you understand?”

The Avisai huffed again.

“Good. And most of all, whatever you do, just keep pushing forward, okay?”

At the Avisai’s next huff, Aleja turned in her saddle, suddenly aware that the Authorities weren’t as slow compared to her dragon as she had hoped. There was no time to decide what she would summon when several sets of gnashing, stinking teeth were eager to adorn themselves with her blood. She half-blindly tossed the bag of Ignisium in their direction, then freed her left hand from the saddle.

The two beasts that emerged from her torrent of fire were enormously large. They most resembled wolves—no, hellhounds . Her magic didn’t stretch as far as that of the other Dark Saints, but the hounds did their jobs, gnashing their flaming jaws. It was only two seconds—one—until they reached the packets of Ignisium spread across the ground, and they began to smolder.

The world turned gold. Here, in the land of the First, it was an exquisite color, as fine and rare as chunks of pure precious metal flecked with licks of dark fire. The air filled with the smell of burnt hair—a scent Aleja had come to associate with the Authorities whenever her flames caught one of their wings.

The Avisai veered upward, sensing the massive tower of fire that followed as the Ignisium exploded. One of the Authorities made a sound close to a scream, but Aleja couldn’t see it through the billowing black smoke.

The Avisai could not move quickly enough to avoid the rush of noxious smoke that engulfed them. It veered too sharply, and Aleja slipped to the side. She felt the dragon try to adjust beneath her to keep her in the saddle, but it was too late.

Aleja had already fallen down its flanks so far that gravity took hold, forcing her to let go of the reins.

The Avisai screeched.

The smoke rose.

And Aleja fell.

For a moment, as she regained consciousness, Aleja believed she was back in her dingy apartment in the city, waking from a long dream about the Knowing One, his Dark Saints, and the enormous people in winged masks who claimed the world was about to end.

She gave a hiss of pain as she pushed herself to her feet. The sharpness in her side told her she had, at the very least, broken a rib in the fall. She had no idea how long it would take for her to stop feeling as though a blade was being driven into her lungs with every breath. A choked sob escaped her mouth before she managed to steady herself and try to get her bearings.

The smoke was still too thick to see more than a few yards in any direction—if not for it, the Authorities would have swarmed her by now—but she could hear shouting. She ran blindly toward the noise, drawing her stiletto blade as she moved. Even this motion was painful, and she wasn’t sure how much fire she had left to summon without a few moments to recharge.

She tried to reach out through the marriage bond, but the distance between her and Nicolas was too great. What Aleja did see, however, was the silhouette of a burnt Authority through the smoke. It was no longer twitching or taking its last gulping breaths. Her makeshift bomb had dropped on two of them, but the others had undoubtedly already spotted Val and the Third.

It’s a shame… she thought distantly, in a voice that sounded like the one that used to reside behind the locked door in her mind. …that I’ll have to scorch this beautiful place.

Her ribs were already feeling better, but any physical relief was dampened as the smoke began to clear. There was another lump on the ground, sweeping its long tail weakly against the dirt as if trying to push itself up.

“No,” Aleja gasped, rushing toward the Avisai. Even through the smoke, the patches of its burnt flesh were pale pink and raw. Her touch was met with a weak rumble of pain.

“I’m so sorry?—”

The Avisai whined and tried again to move before giving up.

“It’s okay,” Aleja soothed. “I have to go and make sure that Val gets this done, but then I’m coming back for you. Just keep breathing.”

When she summoned a fiery hellhound, it was wispy and transparent. “Protect her,” Aleja said to it, unsure whether the creature would obey her as easily as Nicolas’s Umbramares obeyed him.

“Keep breathing,” she commanded the Avisai again. It took all her strength to run toward the sound of fighting, leaving behind the pleading whine—a universal sound that meant please don’t leave me alone in every language.

She pushed on and came across another dead Authority. This time, it wasn’t her work. Feathers littered the ground chaotically, leaving behind bare wings disturbingly reminiscent of raw chicken meat. Its eyes had liquified. Clear pus oozed over its pink skin. Aleja could taste the smell in the back of her throat.

There was no question whose magic had done this. Her bones still ached whenever she remembered the vibrations Val had sent through her when he’d helped his mother capture the Third. She had been moving at a jog before, but now Aleja ran. Val was not supposed to be fighting. Val was supposed to be raising the First.

As she crested the hill, the smoke had cleared enough for her to catch sight of the remaining Authorities. One was barreling toward the officer who had given her the Ignisium packets.

“Run!” she screamed, but it was immediately clear he hadn’t given her all of the Ignisium. From here, she could do nothing as the Authority opened its maw and swallowed the officer whole. There was a moment of silence as the Authority beat its wings in triumph and satisfaction, absorbing a new set of memories into its mind. Then, it exploded.

Aleja let out a wordless roar as she kept running. It was her fault the man was dead, but there were more Authorities left. She had already spotted several gliding toward the last living soldier and away from the Third’s cage, their movement deliberate, as though they were being called elsewhere.