Page 11 of No Greater Sorrow (Our Lady of Fire #2)

“You’re untrained. Nicolas let you talk your way onto this team because he’s physically incapable of saying no to you. This is a bad idea,” Orla said flatly. She wore her bright red hair in two braids wrapped over the top of her head and held together with gold twine that matched the studs in her ears.

“Thanks for your encouragement,” Aleja replied. In truth, Orla’s words stung less than the sight of Violet in a new set of armor. They’d mostly been able to avoid each other for the past twenty-four hours, but every thought she’d had yesterday was not about the dangerous mission she was about to embark on, but rather of Violet’s betrayal and the way Nicolas’s body had felt beneath hers.

“I’m not saying it to be cruel,” Orla said, unaware of the turmoil in Aleja’s head. “I’m saying it because I’ll be second-in-command on this mission. If I say run, you run. If I tell you to shoot fire, light them up.”

“If you despise us so much, why’d you come back?” Aleja asked. She couldn’t understand why she wanted Orla to like her so badly, especially since the Dark Saint of Envy appeared determined to keep her distance.

“Merit,” Orla finally said, looking her up and down.

“The Dark Saint of Sloth?”

“Ugh. Don’t say it like that. He’s… contemplative. And he has one obsession and one obsession alone.”

“Sorry. What’s he like?” Aleja said, recalling how, on her first day in the Hiding Place, she’d inadvertently confused Bonnie’s gifts with gluttony.

Orla regarded her with suspicion. “Damn, you really don’t remember anything, do you? You two were colleagues more than friends, but as much as I hate to say it, that’s not your fault. Merit is only interested in one thing—his forge.”

Aleja didn’t miss the undercurrent of both fondness and frustration in Orla’s tone when she spoke of him.

“Merit was our smith during the last war. He comes from a long line of them, many of whom had their tenure as Dark Saints.” Orla rubbed her forehead, as if deciding whether to continue subjecting herself to Aleja’s presence. “He’s the closest thing we have to—what do the humans call it? A legacy hire. One of his distant ancestors was the first person the Second taught the art of enchantment to.”

“Wow,” Aleja breathed, temporarily forgetting she was supposed to be acting like all of this was second nature to her.

“Anyway, we need him to forge us proper weapons if we want any chance of winning this.” Orla’s voice returned to its normal tone—sharp and disdainful. “This conversation has been awkward enough for one day, don’t you think? The chances of this not turning into a shit show are slim. Just do as I say, all right?”

“Noted. What is your power anyway?” Aleja asked.

“Void.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s among the rarest that can manifest among the Dark Saints. Let’s hope you don’t have to find out.”

“Wonderful talk, Orla. This was very helpful before my first foray over enemy lines.”

Your husband’s actions destabilized her home for six centuries. She’s allowed to dislike you , Aleja’s inner voice pointed out.

Orla gave a soft huff, but at least she didn’t snap at Aleja again. “Nicolas, come on! This gap isn’t going to stay open for long.”

Aleja remembered the small hole in the wards they’d used to sneak into the Third’s realm. “How are the gaps opened?” she asked.

“Carefully. One of our scouts was here earlier to ensure the Astraelis don’t have any roaming units at this border. The longer it’s open, the more likely one of them will take notice—Nicolas! Hellhound, fetch them.”

Garm seemed thrilled to have been given a command and hopped to his feet.

“I didn’t realize our realms were so connected,” Aleja said, speaking mostly to herself. She had the feeling her continued questions were starting to push Orla from the realm of annoyed to angry.

“Of course, they are. We were one people a long time ago. It was the Second who built the wards and isolated us in the Hiding Place to keep us safe.” This answer was not given in the same sharp tone she’d spoken to Aleja with before; there was almost something wistful in Orla’s voice.

“Do you think there’ll be peace again?” asked Aleja.

“Maybe, but not today. Finally . What in the Second’s name were you three doing over there?” Orla said as Nicolas, Violet, and Val approached.

Val’s mask twitched, unable to hide his nervousness. “I was instructing Violet on how to extract herself from the Authorities’ mind, if… well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Are you sure I should be here? I am decidedly not a soldier.”

Coming here had been an act of either bravery or foolishness on Val’s part. If caught, the most likely outcome for him was execution.

“You claimed that you wanted to help when you crossed our borders. Now you’ll get your chance,” Nicolas told him, shoving a pack against Val’s chest. He turned to the others. “All right, come on. We keep low and quiet.”

“Can we walk there?” Aleja whispered.

“Walk?” Val asked. “No, I wouldn’t assume so. What happened to the Umbramares, Knowing One? I didn’t see any at your base.”

“Umbramares?” Garm’s tail wagged violently.

“Give me a moment,” Nicolas said. He raised his hands and the small hairs on Aleja’s arms lifted as if a bolt of lightning was about to strike—then, the Umbramares rose from the earth. No, they rose from the shadows , pulling themselves up as if they were crawling from deep holes in the ground. The Umbramares were smaller than regular horses, with streamlined bodies that appeared almost feline. Their shapes were barely visible in the night, cut from a swathe of darkness like Garm in his monstrous form, with eyes that glowed a deep violet—a shade Aleja had only seen in the tiny space where blue fire transitioned into red.

She expected Orla’s hand to pass through the Umbramare when she gave it a pat on the forehead. Yet it preened at the touch, and Garm gave a jealous whine.

“They really are cute, Nic. Only three?” Orla asked.

“I need to save my strength,” Nicolas replied. “Orla, ride with Val. Kill him if he does anything suspicious. Aleja, you’re with me. Violet, you did well on the Avisai so you ride on your own. The Umbramares will follow their leader. Just do your best to hold on.”

“Oh, goodie. I’ve always wanted a hell pony,” Violet muttered, and Aleja had to suppress a smile.

When Aleja touched the Umbramare, warm magic filled her again, but this time, it felt familiar. It was the magic of the Hiding Place, so tied to the Knowing One that she could feel him in it. “What happens if they’re killed?” she asked.

“Then we get to save Nic’s ass and gloat about it later. The gap in the wards will close soon. We need to hurry,” Orla said.

Val tutted as Orla pointed him to the nearest Umbramare. “You won’t actually stab me, will you?” he asked, looking at the gold-hilted dagger at Orla’s hip.

“I absolutely will stab you; I want to make that clear. Let’s go.”

Aleja felt a twinge of jealousy as Violet mounted her horse with ease. Horses had always made her nervous. She didn’t like putting her life in the hands of something that could happily buck her off at any slight. But before she could ask how she was supposed to ride something that didn’t have a saddle or reins, Nicolas mounted and reached out a hand to haul her up.

“Wrap your arms around my waist. Keep your inner thighs tight,” he whispered.

“Flirting with me, Knowing One?” Aleja whispered back.

“After last night, certainly. You make me want to beg .”

Suddenly, they were in motion, and she pressed her cheek against his back to hide her flush. Aleja sensed the moment they left the boundaries of the Hiding Place. With the quickness of a lightning strike, the ever-reddish sky turned dark blue. The landscape changed to one of rolling hills dotted with fig trees. Aleja was reminded of the statues of snakes coiled around their branches, present in both the Hiding Place and the homes of the Knowing One’s human devotees alike. The serpent and the fig. The Otherlanders and the Astraelis.

We were one people, a long time ago , Orla had said.

More interesting than the landscape was the tremulous feeling of magic in the air. The magic of the Otherlanders was that of shadows, night, and death. But she could sense something bright about the magic here—it was in the crispness of the air and in the silver tinge at the edge of night-gray clouds.

“You’re feeling the influence of the First,” Nicolas said. The wind nearly swept away his voice, but Aleja could feel it rumbling from his chest as she pressed against him. Garm ran at their side, bounding through the tall grass.

“It’s nice,” she said, wondering if Nicolas would take offense.

“It is. We have no issues with the First.”

“Why can’t she stop the Astraelis?”

“The First grants life. Like any mother, she can’t control what her children do once they’re grown.”

“But the Second interferes. The Second makes rules for us,” Aleja said. Her words were bitter, but Nicolas had said worse about the Second himself.

“The Second has become more protective after the last war.”

“Hellhound’s fury, six hundred years later and you two still can’t stop gabbing,” Orla said, pulling her Umbramare beside them.

“We’re about three miles from the camp. The Astraelis usually send scouts to patrol within that radius. We should dismount on the other side of that ridge and continue on foot,” Val told them. He sounded breathless as if he couldn’t inhale the air rushing past as the Umbramares tore across the landscape.

“You know a lot about their tactics,” Orla told him.

“I’m the son of their High Commandeer. She tried—unsuccessfully—to recruit me into the military until realizing I would put no effort into the pursuit. But understanding how she ran her troops was essential in deciding where and how to plant misinformation before I left.”

“Hmph. We’ll see,” Orla answered.

The Astraelis had a well-organized military, Aleja noted. It was so different from the rag-tag volunteers that occupied the Hiding Place. No wonder the Second had been eager to let her retake the Trials despite her transgressions.

They dismounted where Val indicated. Aleja wondered if they were going to leave the Umbramares there, but before she could ask, Nicolas’s hands traced a pattern in the air. The Umbramares neighed, sounding displeased as they shrank, folding in on themselves like jet-black origami until all that remained where they’d stood were three dark stones. Nicolas handed one each to Orla, Violet, and Aleja.

“If we are separated and you need to flee, throw it hard at the ground and your Umbramare will be summoned again. If I’m not dead, that is,” he said.

Garm sniffed the dirt where the Umbramares had disappeared and then looked up. “What about me, boss? I can help. I’m no longer bound to this body anymore.”

“A fact that we’ll revisit if you can be good until the war is over,” Nicolas said. “Your job is to guard Val and Violet.”

Garm looked over at Aleja, and she realized he was waiting for her confirmation. “That’s right. Protect them, Garm.”

Don’t you want to clear the air with Violet before you’re both thrust into a dangerous situation ? Aleja’s voice asked.

She betrayed me. Besides, you were all for mistrusting her during the Trial.

That was a game. This is reality. A deadly reality .

Aleja didn’t answer, but she was oddly calm as they approached the camp, occasionally stopping to take wordless directions from Val or to crouch whenever a Throne flew overhead.

“Strange,” Val muttered when one passed so low that the air displaced by its wings made Aleja’s stray hairs fly into her face. They huddled together beneath one of the fig trees. Aleja had yet to spot any buildings, like those that dotted the Hiding Place.

“What is it?” whispered Orla.

“The Thrones are typically accompanied by a Principality to direct them. Otherwise, they’ll blindly attack any living thing that wanders into their territory.”

Orla’s hand moved to her dagger’s hilt, but Nicolas raised an arm to settle her. “What does it mean, Val?”

“Something is happening at the camp that requires all the Principalities’ attention. This makes things more troublesome.”

“Or it could work in our favor. If they’re distracted by some sort of meeting, there will be fewer eyes on us,” Orla told them. “There’s an opening. Let’s move.”

They crested the ridge, and Aleja saw Astraelis’ war camp at last. It was undoubtedly more organized than the one in the Hiding Place, lined by tents in shades of pale coral, blue, and gold. Golden lights like the Luminarium they’d recovered from the Third’s realm hovered along the pathways. The Astraelis didn’t bother camouflaging themselves. Perhaps they didn’t need to—the Otherlanders would be mad to attack the Astraelis here, on their own turf, where their power was strongest.

Her stomach pressed against the grass as she flattened herself and realized she hadn’t been truly afraid until now. Aside from a flutter in her gut, the thought of invading an Astraelis camp was so surreal that she’d only felt the sort of nervousness she got when watching a horror movie—something that couldn’t really harm her.

“Listen,” Nicolas said, low and close to her ear. “You can do this. You’ve done far worse before. Stay close to me and Orla. Your job is to watch our backs, so don’t act unless you have no other choice or we give the order. Understood, soldier?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, equally low.

“Call me that again and I’ll do more than beg.”

“This is disgusting,” Orla interrupted. “You do realize I can hear you, right? For fuck’s sake, look at poor Val. Even his mask is blushing.”

Nicolas kept his gaze fixed on the camp, but he addressed his next sentence to Val. “I haven’t seen so many Principalities in one place since the last war. If this turns out to be a trap, do you have any idea what I’m going to let my soldiers do to you?”

“I don’t… I swear, I don’t know what’s going on. My mother wouldn’t have called them here unless something big was happening.”

“What do we do?” Aleja asked. “Should we back off?”

“That would be inadvisable,” Val said. “If Merit has finished the chains, we’re even shorter on time than I’d feared. Our only hope is that he’s found some way to sabotage his work or that someone in my mother’s inner circle has misinterpreted my research. Either way, we need to get him out now.”

Nicolas continued. “Val, can you extinguish the Luminariums?”

“Yes, and I can create the illusion of an impending storm. It’ll hide your magic for a few moments, especially in the dark.”

“Good. I’ll send shadows down to cloak our movements. Violet, this is where you come in. Take Val and find a place to hide. Once the Authorities realize that you are not one of them, you‘ll become a target. Be careful. These are not recently revived Remnants, like the one from the well—they’re battle-starved. Realizing a human witch is wandering about the realm would be like foxes stumbling upon an injured baby bird.”

“Shit. We’re actually doing this?” Aleja asked.

Orla answered. “We’re fucked if we don’t. Violet is here because she wants to be a Dark Saint. Right, Violet?”

Violet nodded, reaching into her pocket for the vial containing the last few drops of the Second’s well water. She touched it to her lips before Aleja could protest, drinking in half of the liquid left.

“What the hell? You’re not going to have enough left for the next Trial,” Aleja spat.

Orla continued as though Aleja had not spoken. “There will come a day when you‘ll need to send your friends into a fight, knowing that not all of them will come out of it alive. Are you prepared for that, Lady of Wrath?”

Aleja managed a nod but sensed there was something she was missing—something they were all missing. She locked eyes with Nicolas and saw the same debate playing out on his face. At that moment, she understood why Taddeas was so adamant about stepping down from his position before the real fighting started. With only a few minutes before a Throne spotted them, they needed to make a decision that might kill them all, before they could analyze every angle.

“All right. Orla, hang back with Val and Violet until you’re needed.” Nicolas’s voice remained even, but Aleja caught the slight furrow in his brow.

“With all due respect, Knowing One,” Orla said, her sharp tone at odds with the words, “I’m more useful down there than you are. Aleja and I can find Merit and set him free.”

Nicolas’s eyes darted between them, and Aleja chimed in before he could protect her in front of Orla. “If this goes well, they won’t even know we were here, right? I’ll go with you.”

For the first time in a long while, Aleja was proud of herself. Her voice didn’t shake, no matter how rapidly her heart pounded beneath her sternum to remind her that she was not a soldier. Hellfire, she wasn’t even particularly athletic—if the Second had designed a Trial where she’d needed to run a full mile, she probably would have collapsed halfway through and needed Violet to drag her to the finish line. Aleja had only a few things to her name: some fencing lessons from long ago, a sickle that felt oddly depleted of magic, and a lot of fire.

She was counting on the latter to get her through this.

“Smoke. Over there,” Nicolas breathed into Aleja’s ear.

Now that they’d dipped into the valley, the forge was obvious. A few Principalities wandered among chunks of black iron. Red light shone from somewhere between them. “How long do you need, Violet?” he asked.

“Not long.”

“Okay. I’ll draw the shadows in—Aleja and Orla, get in there and find Merit.”

You have no choice but to be ready. You can do this , hissed Aleja’s inner voice.

The Luminariums pinched out at once. It was as if the moon had been swallowed by storm clouds that were so massive, they stretched all the way to the earth. She followed Orla as they moved through the murky field. Aleja could hear the chaos behind her but focused on staying at Orla’s heels. Even with less than a few feet between them, the Dark Saint was difficult to spot aside from her bright hair.

Orla led them toward the glow of the furnace. Chains dragged through the sooty dirt, attached to someone Aleja could not see, but before she could point to them, Orla clamped a hand over Aleja’s mouth. A person in a winged mask passed so close that Aleja had to duck to keep the feathers from brushing against her head.

The Principality called out a word before a trumpet horn drew his attention. Orla tugged her arm, and they moved forward, following the chains.

Yet that wasn’t the only enemy wandering the shadows. Aleja didn’t react to the next one fast enough. By the time she turned, hands were around her throat, and, gods , they were enormous. There was no chance to gasp as her windpipe constricted. The Principality’s mask spread wide. “Lady of Wra?—”

Orla was on him before his mask could twitch in surprise—her dagger in his throat, his blood splattering their faces. Two quick stabs into the Principality’s neck sent him back into the darkness.

“Is he—” Aleja began. The words scorched her throat. She threw her forearm over her mouth to muffle the cough that followed.

“They’re harder to kill than that, but he’ll need a minute to recover. Come on, Merit can’t be far, and once that guy fetches his friends, we’re screwed.”

A great mass of wings passed overhead, flapping out of time with each other. Aleja hadn’t seen a real Authority since the well, and the sight of it made her stomach drop. The one she’d fought before had been newly revived and weak, but even glimpsed through the shadows, this Authority was… radiant. Hundreds of glowing eyes blinked out of sync as it frantically searched the landscape before moving on.

She could no longer see the glow but knew they had to be close to the forge. Something moved to her left, but this time, Aleja wasn’t going to let herself be caught unprepared. She raised her hands, calling her fire, but the person who stepped forward was unmasked. Her flames grazed the man’s head, but he didn’t seem to notice how the air filled with the scent of burning hair.

“Aleja? How?—”

“We’ll talk later,” Orla barked. “We need to get you out of here.”

The man who must have been Merit raised his bound arms. “You two shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re rescuing you, fool. How do we get you out of those chains?” Orla said.

“You can’t. They’re layered with enchantment upon enchantment. Only the Messenger has the key.”

* * *