Page 8 of No Greater Sorrow (Our Lady of Fire #2)

Aleja panted as she entered the tent that was their temporary war room. “Could this camp be any hillier?”

“No,” Taddeas said. “We intentionally chose this terrain. Our soldiers grew up in these hills. Our dragons evolved in the mountains; they’re used to maneuvering through the peaks, but the Thrones and Authorities don’t fare as well. The location gives us a two-fold advantage. It’s difficult for their airborne units to spot us, and even more difficult for their ground troops to reach us without being seen.”

“And difficult for my thighs.”

“You might think differently in a few weeks when you see how your ass looks in a pair of leggings,” Amicia said with a wink.

“Eyes off my wife’s ass,” Nicolas told her.

“You don’t get to speak for me,” Aleja said.

“Wonderfully said, Aleja. And I always look quite respectfully,” Amicia responded. “Don’t worry, Knowing One, I have no intentions of seducing your wife unless she explicitly asks me to. It’s good you’re here, we were waiting for you.”

Aleja resisted the urge to check if Amicia was referring to someone behind her. Like the war room in the palace, the tent was dominated by a large round table, empty aside from Val’s orb and a few maps, creased with folds. Orla didn’t look up as Aleja found a place to stand; her attention never strayed from Val, again in chains, seated on the cold ground.

You’re still you, the voice reminded her, uncharacteristically gentle. You killed an Authority without losing your life in the process. You passed your first Trial and made sure Violet survived hers. You escaped one of the Messenger’s scouts . Even without your memories, you’re good at this .

Thanks for the pep talk.

Don’t get used to it .

“Our first priority is getting Merit back,” Taddeas said. He seemed more confident than usual, and Aleja remembered what he’d told her about himself as they’d trained. Something about lecturing in front of a classroom chased his shyness away. When she smiled at him, he smiled back.

“Although Violet’s information was useful, it provided little insight into where Merit might be held. I’ve already contacted our scouts. Once we know his location, I say we send a small team. If we can pull him out without an all-out battle, we can spare lives on our side,” Orla said.

“I’ve already told you where the camp is,” Val said.

“And I trust you even less than yesterday. Besides, why the hell would we want to sneak into a camp where we know the Messenger is present?”

“Because this camp will not be well-guarded. In fact, it’s secret from most of the Astraelis armies. The Messenger does not want their attention drawn to it, so she claims it’s a retreat of sorts. A place for her and her closest advisors to rest in safety,” Val told her.

Nicolas’s eyes flashed at Val. “The Messenger is keeping secrets from the rest of her armies? Why?”

“She knows there are others like me who might not be onboard with the slaughter of thousands of humans. After all, there are plenty of Astraelis devotees who aren’t above sending a few prayers toward the Dark Saints when it suits them. We’d be losing followers too.”

The answer seemed hollow to Aleja, and when she glanced at Nicolas’s hands—the most expressive part of him—she saw that his thumb was curled in and lightly grazing his index finger. A sign he too didn’t believe every word coming out of Val’s mouth. “What security measures can we expect? Although the Messenger is keeping the camp low-key, she would never leave a Dark Saint in their midst without protection. Especially one as valuable as Merit.”

“There’ll be a handful of Throne scouts but not enough to present a problem. Likely a few Principalities as well. It’s the Authorities that present the biggest issue. You’ll need to draw them away before you deal with whoever is directly guarding your Saint.”

“Do they have him in iron chains?” Orla asked with a subtle shudder, as if she too could feel them on her skin.

“It’ll be worse than that. The right weapon can cut through iron chains. Undoubtedly, he will have magical protections as well.”

It took Aleja a moment to realize why her mind had drifted back to Roland’s village, stuck in time and dependent on a half-dead Astraelis to support it. Her sickle had sliced through one of his shadows. She’d been too frantic at the time to wonder how, and since then, the blade functioned more like a gardening tool than a magical weapon.

Val continued. “Oh. And if you have no other way of taking care of the Authorities, bringing the Violet girl will be useful as well.”

“What?” Aleja snapped. She wasn’t the only one in the tent who looked shocked by Val’s suggestion.

“She could connect to them with frightening ease. Violet can scry again from some hidden location near the camp, but this time she’ll allow herself to be discovered. It will certainly draw the Authorities away, giving you a chance to find Merit.”

“She’s even less of a trained fighter than I am, and we have a Trial the day after tomorrow,” Aleja told him. The half of her that wasn’t filled with anger noted that no one else had come to Violet’s defense.

“If all goes well, they’ll never actually find her. Your plan is to go unseen, isn’t it?” Val said.

“Taddeas, what do you think?” Nicolas asked.

“It might be doable if what Val says is true. Aleja, hang back with me when the others go. Let’s talk about our strategy.”

“I can’t believe you’re all entertaining this,” she said.

Orla raised an eyebrow, indicating she felt the same.

“Strategy. We’re going to discuss it,” Taddeas repeated. There was an air of finality in his voice she rarely heard, but she caught its undercurrent. Do not argue with one of your commanding officers . Silent advice given for Aleja’s sake.

Nicolas briefly locked eyes with Taddeas and gave a curt nod. “Good. Orla, take Val back to his tent and have him draw an aerial view of the camp as best he can. It would be in his interest to disclose any other useful information he has. Remember, there is a very fine line between a prisoner of war and a war criminal awaiting trial, Val.”

Aleja nearly begged Nicolas to stay as he left with the others, but she couldn’t bring herself to sound so pathetic with Orla in earshot.

“What do you think we should do?” Taddeas began, settling into one of the stiff wooden chairs.

“I think you should ask pretty much anyone else over the person whose biggest accomplishment in life is half a master’s degree in art history.”

“I’m asking the Dark Saint of Wrath. Look here,” he said, spinning a crude drawing around so that she was aligned with its south. “The Astraelis’ army camps are of a circular design, making them a pain in the ass to infiltrate. Fortunately, Merit is most likely to be stationed at their forge which is usually positioned outside the ring of tents. So, now think. What’s the first step?”

“Violet’s distraction”—fuck, Aleja hated that she was even considering it—“should draw some of the guards out, but others are sure to stay behind. The longer we stay near the camp, the greater the chance we’ll be discovered. We have to figure out where the forge is quickly.”

“Good,” he said, with approval in his voice, though Aleja didn’t think she’d stated anything other than the obvious. “How do we do that?”

“We can’t exactly have an Avisai fly overhead. Maybe we can glamour ourselves to go unnoticed while we circle the camp. Or have Nicolas drop shadows.”

“A solution that is simple, but potentially effective. The Astraelis will have defenses, but some magic comes more innately to our kind than theirs. But let’s say you get there and find your glamours don’t work near their wards. What do you do?”

“We… I don’t know , Tad.”

“ Think . The last Lady of Wrath didn’t go to a military academy. She was a hunter from a small village who rose to the ranks of High General because she had talent. The memories might be gone, but that talent is still in you.”

Aleja sat back in her chair, trying not to huff. She was tired. Her thighs burned from dragging her feet through the camp’s mud. But the look on Taddeas’s face stopped her from complaining. It wasn’t an expression of disappointment, but rather one of openness, as if he were back in his college classroom speaking to a student.

“Okay. We watch them from a distance for as long as we can. We identify any places or moments of weakness. Maybe a blind spot or a time when the guards change, leaving the prisoner briefly unattended. Then, we exploit that,” she said with a shaky breath.

“Good. What then?”

“We knock out the guard watching Merit. Once we do that, it’s just a simple extraction, right? We free him and put as much distance between the camp and ourselves before anyone realizes we were there.”

“Knock out the guard? What if he fights back?”

“Then… we have to kill him.”

“Are you going to be able to do that?”

“I’ve killed before.”

Taddeas fell silent for a moment. His eyes softened. “I’m sorry you have to do this. You’re so young, Aleja. It’s not fair that you should have to enter into Sainthood at a time like this.”

“It’s what I chose,” she said. “Thanks for helping me.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair with his hands cupping the back of his head. His shoulder made a soft popping sound. “Are you familiar with the concept of skirmish tactics?”

* * *

“There you are,” Nicolas said when she found him an hour later, in a tent dominated by a large bed that, inexplicably, looked as if it’d been dragged over from the palace. Judging by the red swatches of fabric draped artfully across the wooden beams, these were Amicia’s quarters. Apparently, she did not enjoy sleeping on a cot.

For the first time that Aleja could remember, Nicolas looked truly exhausted. “Listen, I don’t want you to tell the Second about the Astraelis’ plans for him. Not yet. He’s old and unaware of our goings-on.”

“So, you’re basically saying, don’t tell Daddy the angels are coming to kill him until we have a solution in place?”

“Exactly. And please don’t call him ’Daddy .’ It makes me cringe, and I try to avoid that at all times. How else do you think I’ve made it to this age without any crow’s feet?”

“Would you prefer I save the title for you?”

“I’d prefer ‘Sir,’ but the choice is ultimately yours.”

“Don’t let that information spread around the camp. I think there are a few soldiers out there willing to, uh, take orders from you, if you know what I mean. I came to ask how you’re feeling. And I was wondering if you’d told any of the Saints about the brand-new tattoo on your chest, but I’ve realized I already know the answer.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Take off your shirt. Let me see for myself.”

“Aleja—”

“Do it.”

He shrugged and undid the top few buttons of his tunic, allowing it to slip from his shoulders. Aleja bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting. The snake writhed and gasped for air as the thorns imprisoning it dug in more deeply than before. The black running through Nicolas’s veins had spread to his shoulders, nearly reaching the base of his neck.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Yes. Terribly.”

“All you have to do is stop being in love with me.”

“That’s impossible.”

Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, she looked away. Aleja missed touching him. Missed the way they whispered nonsense to each other as they kissed—secret prayers only the other could understand. When he wrapped both his hands around hers, she didn’t pull away, even as the rational part of herself screamed to leave the tent.

“Did the Second give you any idea what the next Trial might be?” he asked. She immediately understood that this was a diversion, a ploy to keep her close for a moment longer, and she allowed herself to be deceived.

“No. But I doubt we’ll be able to help each other out next time.”

“It may be worse than that, Aleja,” he said, but perhaps he could see on her face that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, aside from breaking her promise to herself and pulling Nicolas into a kiss. Aleja nearly did so. She rose to her tiptoes as one of his hands curled tightly into the hair at the base of her skull.

Her desire felt like a lion snapping at her heels. She couldn’t outrun it. No matter how quickly she tried to speed away, its hot breath was always at the back of her neck.

“I was thinking that, when this is all over, we should go to Italy,” he said.

She gave him a tight smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and remembering she’d never told him about her plans for when the war was over. “Don’t you have bargains to make, Knowing One?”

“People everywhere light the black candle. Don’t you want to sneak into the Uffizi Museum at night? Eat pasta until we can’t move? Drink wine and kiss until someone yells at us for public indecency?”

Nicolas’s hair was messier than usual, wild from the windswept camp. Aleja tilted her head up on instinct, and their noses touched. It wasn’t a true kiss, not really, and Nicolas seemed hesitant when he parted his mouth, and the tip of his tongue swiped her bottom lip.

Heat moved through her, as potent as her fire but sweeter—a hearth, not an inferno. He gave a hiss of pain when her breasts pressed against his chest but wrapped an arm around her back to prevent her from moving when she tried to pull away.

Aleja knew that he was waiting for her to act first. Even though it made her feel like she was moving away from that hearth on a deathly freezing night, she took a step back.

“No way we’re sneaking into museums. We’re waiting in line with a thousand other sweaty tourists, and you’re going to humor me while I stand around reading every single placard. I’ll think about it once you get that snake off your chest, Nic.”

“Understood. Goodnight, soldier.”

She left wordlessly, glad to find Garm outside. Looking up at her, he yawned, flashing his tiny teeth. Well, not so tiny anymore. The dog still wasn’t as large as he’d been before the Astraelis drove a sword through him, but he nearly reached her knee now.

“Any empty tents with a cot around here, Garm?” she asked.

“Where the night watch sleeps during the day. You’re not supposed to be in there, though.”

“I’m just going to nap for a few hours. They’ll never know,” she said, feeling rebellious. Wasn’t that what the Otherlanders were known for anyway?

“They will after I shed fur all over the bed.”

“You’re not sleeping on the bed.”

“We’ll see about that. You can’t watch me forever.”

Garm sniffed wildly at the dirt as he led her toward the camp’s western edge, but music coming from the inside of a tent made Aleja pause. A woman with a long, dark braid, whom Taddeas had introduced as Silmiya, stood guard before it. Silmiya nodded as Aleja passed; she had no idea whether they’d known each other before, but Aleja was too exhausted for that conversation now.

She caught of glimpse of Val’s mask as a breeze shifted the tent’s entrance. The song made her feel like she was standing in an empty field surrounded by only the sound of the earth—the susurration of dried grass, distant crickets, and the unnamable hum in her ears when the world was too quiet.

“The Astraelis sing their prayers,” Silmiya said, as if she understood that Aleja lacked any context for what she was hearing.

“It’s lovely,” Aleja answered, unsure if this admission would upset Silmiya.

“It is. A shame that the Astraelis have strayed so far from the First’s teachings. You must be lost, Lady of Wrath. Turn around and head straight until you reach the flagpole, then make a left. You’ll find the healer’s tent there,” Silmiya said with a look at Aleja’s wrapped wrist.

Aleja followed her instructions until the shadows were heavy enough to mask her loop back. She found an empty cot and settled in beneath sheets that smelled of vinegar and baking soda. A part of her wished she could still hear Val’s singing, because aside from Garm, who managed to take up three-fourths of the mattress despite being half her size, Aleja felt completely alone.