Page 4 of No Greater Sorrow (Our Lady of Fire #2)

“It is common knowledge among Otherlanders that the Third’s realm is not a final resting ground for the dead, but a space that embodies a phrase popular among my colleagues in anthropological studies: liminality . The world of the dead is but a hallway, and the Third, a guide from one door to the next.”

—Excerpt from Ten Myths of the Otherlanders by Emiel Nasir.

“Sir, one of

the Avisai spotted two women leaving the Second’s cave.”

Nicolas’s attention snapped to the foot soldier, a fey man wearing a uniform a size too large, which made him look younger than he was—at least, insofar, as it was possible to age a fey on sight. He saluted Nicolas with a tad more enthusiasm than the veteran soldiers did.

“Good. General Taddeas is in command while I’m gone,” Nicolas said.

By the time he landed in the clearing just outside the cave, his back ached. It had been years since he had used his wings this much, followed by a stretch of barely flying at all while Aleja had been bound to him. Near the entrance, two small figures huddled, surrounded by the smell of burned skin and adrenaline. He stopped himself from rushing to them, remembering Aleja’s words.

Until you fix this, we’re done .

Something small and dark moved among the rocks, its back arched like a cat defending its territory. As far as Nicolas knew, only the Knowing One could create hellhounds, and Garm had been his first. But the Doberman puppy straightened as soon as it spotted him, and even with his Otherlander speed, Nicolas couldn’t dodge as the dog barreled into his legs.

“How did you— how ?” he asked, scooping Garm up and not minding when the dog’s claws brushed against the painful tattoo on his chest.

“Aleja asked for me as a weapon,” Garm said, craning to lick Nicolas’s face.

Good girl , he thought, remembering the evening he’d told Garm that he had but one duty so long as he existed: to protect Aleja, even at the cost of his life. Nicolas always had the feeling the promise wasn’t necessary after the day she’d bribed Garm with day-old cold cuts.

“How are they?” he asked Garm. Nicolas could no longer count on Aleja to be open with him, and Violet appeared to confide only in the Dark Saint of Bounty. He’d more than once spotted Violet sneaking out of Bonnie’s cabin as the night sky lightened before dawn.

“The Second didn’t seem to want to test her, so much as torture her. She did what she had to do.”

The poison in his veins sizzled. He remembered the first time he’d seen Aleja in their nameless kingdom; eighteen years old and half-wild, with all the men in the village too afraid to approach her. She was carrying a plucked quail, shot through the neck with one of her arrows, and when she’d smiled at Nicolas, it looked like she was baring her teeth. It was the first time he’d understood he had a heart that could be pierced as easily as that poor bird’s throat.

The Second’s voice rumbled through him.

RETURN IN THREE DAYS.

Aleja moved unsteadily, pulling Violet with her. Both had blood on their faces, but the wound in Aleja’s shoulder was jarring—a mess of pink flesh, readying new scars to layer atop the old ones. Nicolas set Garm down on the rocks and crossed his arms. He could barely keep himself from pulling her against his aching chest and whispering that he’d known she would survive, but he was so fucking grateful for it anyway.

“You need to get that treated,” he said instead.

“Yeah,” Aleja muttered. The sickle was on her belt loop, crusted with blood.

“Violet, are you all right?” he asked.

“Happy to be out of there,” she said. The Second’s magic radiated from her with a hum like a broken streetlamp. Violet’s blonde hair had slipped from its tie, framing her flushed cheeks. She wore no weapon, but the questions about what they had seen and done would have to come later.

“Let’s get back to the palace. I’m starving,” Aleja said with a wince.

“There aren’t any healers at the palace. We’ll head up to one of the army camps. It’s quiet for now. After your shoulder is bandaged, you can rest,” he told her.

Aleja waved her hand, acquiescing immediately. A sign of her exhaustion.

“Is it far?” Violet asked. Her pupils were dilated with residual adrenaline.

“Yes, but I’ve taken the liberty of asking for a ride.”

One of the Avisai rose over the hill, beating its enormous wings. Violet stepped back and threw her hand over her mouth, but Aleja’s eyes merely widened. In her last life, she’d loved to watch the Avisai, especially on the full moon nights, when they danced through the sky in coordinated spirals—some ancient ritual whose meaning and purpose was only known to them.

“Is that a dragon?” Violet asked.

“Technically, it’s a wyvern,” Aleja pointed out.

“Nerd,” Violet muttered with affection.

The Avisai landed heavily in front of them. As dawn approached, pink light filled the gaps between the mountains, gleaming off the Avisai’s black scales, giving them a deceivingly soft appearance. Overhead, the sky was filled with thin, scraggly clouds, like someone had dragged their nails through a dollop of foam.

“There is no way I’m getting on that thing,” Garm barked.

“You don’t have to. Head northwest and you’ll pick up the camp’s scent.”

Garm looked to Aleja, waiting for her instructions. Good.

“Go on,” she told him before turning to Nicolas. “Please don’t tell me I’m supposed to know how to ride a creature as big as a school bus.”

“You shouldn’t have to do much, and to be honest those scales chafe. Still it’s better than walking. Give me a moment.”

Nicolas lifted his hands, and the light in the clearing changed as he manipulated it. It felt good to use his magic like this, so close to the Second’s cave—the heart of all Otherlander power.

“Everything looks wrong. Like a painting with conflicting light sources,” Aleja said. “Wait. You don’t just command the shadows. You command light , and the shadows respond in turn.”

Nicolas felt guilty for enjoying the impressed gleam in her eyes as his shadows coalesced near the Avisai and began to transform. First, came a saddle draped over the dragon’s back—black on black and barely visible. A rope followed, trailing from the saddle to the ground.

“You can make the shadows corporeal?” Violet asked. She was the first to approach the Avisai. Of course, the girl who was unafraid of hiking alone would have no problem wandering up to a dragon hiding rows of sharp teeth in its massive snout.

“Yes. I can grant them a bit of my power too. Let them think for themselves.”

Aleja shot him a look. “My grandmother always said not to dabble in magic that had a mind of its own.”

“With all respect to your grandmother, she’s not the Knowing One,” Nicolas answered. “Hurry and get on. The Avisai really don’t like wearing those saddles. You don’t want him to lose his patience and buck you off.”

The Avisai crouched low, light shining through the most translucent stretches of its wings, illuminating the network of capillaries underneath. Aleja hobbled closer, and Nicolas caught the wince of pain she tried to hide.

“Fine. I just ran more than I ever have in my entire life. Don’t underestimate how much my feet hurt. Come on, Vi. You love heights. You’ll need to hold me when I have a panic attack.”

Nicolas hadn’t forgotten the feeling of flying next to Aleja—the way her hair whipped into her face, and how the wind’s speed made the air taste like peppermints. But until now, he’d never been able to recapture this strange mix of exhilaration and relief. The feeling of escape.

Yet every wing beat made his chest burn. If it had been another person to love her—a thought that awakened something wretched and bitter in him—he could have found a way around the bargain. Hellfire, he would have resorted to ripping the person’s heart out himself, if he had to. When the Knowing One was both the lender and the man in debt, finding a loophole was more… difficult.

The only solution was dangerous, reckless, and depended entirely on old magic. Magic belonging to the Hiding Place. Not to mention, the cooperation of the Second himself. He couldn’t ask it of Aleja—not when she had already sacrificed so much for him.

As the army camp came into view over the ridge, the dragon flew toward an open field to the east. Its landing shook the ground, claws digging small trenches in the earth. If they cleared the weeds here and dug into a deeper layer of dirt, the scars of the last war surely still existed.

Aleja slid down the dragon’s flank. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Violet followed her a moment after. “Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Says the person who was clutching me the entire time.”

“I was making sure you didn’t fall off.”

The camp was quiet as morning mist crept into the valley, displaced by the occasional gust of an Avisai flying low. The weary night watch disappeared into their tents as waking soldiers stumbled toward the smell of breakfast coming from the cook’s wagon.

“It’s really happening, isn’t it? War,” Aleja said.

“The Astraelis have been quiet,” he told her.

“Then, what the hell is that thing?” Violet pointed at an extraordinarily tall man wrapped in meteorite iron chains accompanied by Taddeas with one of his axes drawn.

“Why are you moving him?” Nicolas asked. At the sight of an Astraelis in their midst, he had to force himself not to look up at the sky, in search of more enemy soldiers.

“It’s fine,” Taddeas said, sensing Nicolas’s urgency. “Red wanted to speak with him again. I’m taking him back to the galley tent.”

“It’s not fine. It shouldn’t be here. It’s going to kill us!” Violet snapped. Even Aleja jumped at the force of her voice. Nicolas had only known Violet a short while, but in that time, she’d been quiet and unobtrusive, moving like a moth through the palace in the night.

“He’s our prisoner. A defector from the Astraelis army. You’re in no danger from him,” Nicolas said.

“You need to get him out of here right now .”

“Violet—” Aleja began, though she too eyed the Astraelis with her fists clenched despite what must have been unbearable pain in her shoulder.

“I swear, I mean you no harm. As the Knowing One said, I left my people’s army willingly,” Val told her, as his winged mask pulled closer around his face.

“He’s lying!” Violet shouted.

Val tilted his head. “Oh my. I think I see the problem.”

One of the healers rushed toward them, alerted to their presence by Violet’s shouts. The fey woman dropped her hands onto Violet’s shoulders, clamping down when she tried to wrench away. Nicolas caught the bit of fey magic imbued in the healer’s voice as she spoke. “You’re tired, miss. You’ve been through a lot. Come, let’s get you checked out.”

“Aleja, please,” Violet said, her eyes wild. “I know what I’m talking about. I saw into the Authority’s mind, remember? We were connected .”

Aleja glanced between them—always the peacemaker, his dove. “My shoulder is killing me, and if I don’t get some antibiotics on it, that’s going to be literal. Come on, Vi.”

Violet relented when Aleja took her other arm, and Nicolas watched them go, keeping his face passive to hide the ache of the separation, especially when Aleja seemed so… broken. Not for the first time, he felt a rush of anger toward the Second.

“Sir?” Taddeas asked.

“Go on.”

Taddeas nodded, but Val interrupted before he could be dragged away. “If you want proof of my intentions, that girl is it. The Astraelis are all connected to our leader in one way or another—the Authorities more than most. If you allow me to scry with her, you can see their plans for yourself.”

“She’s been through enough,” Nicolas said, making sure not to react to the news that Violet might still be capable of connecting to the Authorities—something that could either be helpful or extremely problematic.

“I don’t believe you understand the urgency,” Val said more forcefully. “The Astraelis are seeking the Third. If they find him and trap him before your army does, no one will be able to stop the Messenger.”

And every witch in the human realm will die , Nicolas remembered.

“The healers must tend to her first,” he said.

“Fine. But don’t delay longer than is necessary. It’s possible the Astraelis have already taken their first steps to capture the Third, and he remains blissfully unaware of their plans,” Val said.

“I’ll speak with her. Go confer with Red. Answer all her questions. Taddeas, if you suspect our captive is lying, show him how well you know how to use those axes.”

* * *

Aleja wondered if it was odd she found the army camp beautiful. From atop the dragon, it was like looking down at a small gothic city, draped in dark banners.

Though the air was heavy with the scent of leaves rotting beneath the mud, the linen tents smelled of sandalwood, as if they’d absorbed incense smoke from the palace. The temporary wooden structures that held up the tents resembled the great arches that fortified cathedrals. Even the fabric draped over them was not without some form of embellishment.

The linen was old, and it had been in the sun for so long that its colors had blended into earthy splotches of green and brown camouflage. Yet when Aleja searched them carefully, she caught a glimpse of embroidered dragons, squat toad-like imps, and serpents whose bright eyes had dulled to subtle white points in the fabric. None of them were woven with a sinister air like the human depictions of Hell she’d spent years studying. Instead, the faded background was a garden that its inhabitants happily occupied.

The demons are on our side , Bonnie had once told her.

Aleja had expected Nicolas when the tent flaps of the medic’s tent shifted, but his appearance still sent a charge through her. His eyes briefly reflected the lantern light and she reminded herself that she was angry with him. That he had lied to her, again and again.

“How is Violet?” he asked.

“Sleeping. She has a few bruised ribs she didn’t notice until the adrenaline wore off. The fey medicines are… very nice,” Aleja said, resisting the urge to giggle. Someone had cleaned and bandaged her shoulder while she dozed, and she’d awoken in a fit of laughter. The euphoria had mostly passed, but the sight of the healer’s bulbous vials and bubbling potions made her feel like she’d stumbled into a fairy tale.

“How are you?” Nicolas asked, looking her up and down while trying not to seem like he was. Aleja caught it anyway.

The words nearly pushed themselves out of her mouth, all at once. The Second made me kill myself three times . I know what it’s like to cut my own heart out of my chest. But recalling the snake tangled in thorny vines across his chest, Aleja kept her breath shallow and folded her hands into her lap.

“I passed,” she finally said. “That’s what counts, doesn’t it?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“I understand.”

He’s lying , said her inner voice.

Aleja ignored it.

Nicolas’s eyes flashed cold, like when she’d first shaken his hand in a dead woman’s basement. “The Astraelis prisoner claims Violet can still connect to the Authorities. They have a sort of hive mind, as I’m sure you remember. We may be able to use her to confirm their plans.”

Aleja’s eyes flitted to the linen curtain, behind which Violet slept so deeply that not even her limbs twitched. “That’s not true. She would have told me,” Aleja said, after a moment.

She’s a liar too. You already knew that , said her voice.

“Scrying is safe. This could save many lives.”

“I’ll talk to her. Who is that guy, anyway?”

Nicolas told her the story, and Aleja did her best to follow along without letting her mind drift back to the Trials. She took in the basic facts: the defector had come with a warning that the Astraelis were looking for a way to trap the Third. They wanted to use him to kill the Second and that would mean a violent end to all the witches who had accepted his gifts.

Her cousin Paola—one of the few members of her family who hadn’t shunned Aleja— would die. As would every keeper of the old secrets, everyone who remembered the Silent Arts, and those brave enough to speak to the beings in the shadows.

“Fuck,” she breathed. “What do we do?”

“Honestly?” Nicolas said.

“Yes, honestly.”

“I don’t know. Not until we convince Violet to use her connection to the Astraelis or we…”

“ What , Nicolas?”

“We find the Third before they do. We need to warn him. He may know if what the Astraelis mean to try is even possible.”

Aleja took a breath. She knew the basics of the Otherlander creation myth. There was the First among all living things; the Second, who had given every creature the gift of knowledge and free will; and the Third, their youngest sibling, who’d come later to take it all away. Death. A gift of its own, but one that was rarely welcome. A vision of her younger self screaming in pain as Aleja sliced a sickle into her chest briefly filled her mind, but she pushed it away.

“How do we do that?” she asked.

“The first step would be to visit his realm. I must warn you, I’m not exactly on his best side.”

“Whose best side are you on, Nic?” she asked. This time, she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. Dammit.

So much for being mad at him , murmured her voice.

Shut up. I still am .

Want to take a bet on how long before you jump into his bed ?

Not. Listening. To. You.

“Not many people these days, I’m afraid,” Nicolas said, returning her smile. “The thing is, it’s unsafe to travel to the world of the dead alone. It’s dark, labyrinthine. Easy to get lost.”

“Why not take General Taddeas with you?”

“I daresay he’s busy with our new prisoner, and I may need a fire-wielder. We have two days until your next Trial if you’d like to accompany me. It’s a low-risk mission. Consider it a training exercise,” he said.

“I swear to the Second if this is your way of flirting…”

“It’s not. I know what I must do to earn your trust again. This has nothing to do with that.”

She searched his eyes again, unsure of what she was trying to find. Dammit, I was so right , said her inner voice.

“What about Violet?” Aleja asked. “The healers had to give her twice the dose they gave me when she wouldn’t calm down.”

“Then, we have time to take a quick look on our own.”

Aleja sat back, feeling a spark of pain in her shoulder. The healer’s drugs still sloshed in her veins but hopefully, her mind was clearing. At least, it would give her an excuse for talking to Nicolas for this long without yelling at him at least once. “When do we go?”

“The sooner, the better. The Astraelis will be doing everything they can to beat us to the Third.”

“Okay. Let me get dressed.”

“Your shoulder?”

“I’ll be fine. If we’re going to do this, it needs to happen now.”

“All right. Meet me in my tent in an hour.”

“Yes, commander.”

Nicolas hesitated before turning from the tent. “I’m proud of you. I knew you would survive, but I’m proud all the same. Only two to go.”

“Yeah,” she said, half-wishing he hadn’t reminded her. “See you in an hour, Nic.”

* * *