L’occasione fa l’uomo ladro.
Opportunity makes the man a thief.
“We gather today to ordain the holy partnership, complete the sacred circle…” Padre Calabrese would speak all day if they let him.
The temple was less solemn and crowded than it had been for Hugo’s funeral, but Alessa was kneeling at the altar, again. The other council members stared down their noses at her, where she bowed like a supplicant rather than a savior.
She’d never bristled at the condescension etched on their faces before, but she was tired of being deferential, of feeling small and wrong and broken. No matter what happened in the weeks to come, she couldn’t defeat it by cowering.
“I’d like a moment to speak,” Alessa said, heart beating double time.
Renata and Tomo stole glances at each other behind the Padre’s back.
She took a deep breath. “I’d like to train with all of the eligible Fontes.”
Padre Calabrese shook his head. “Tradition demands a wedding before a Finestra lays hands on anyone.”
“With all due respect, tradition died with Emer Goderick.” The pain of speaking his name threatened to steal her breath. “But we adapted then, and we can do so again. After all, that pairing was meant to endure for a lifetime, but clearly, the gods had other plans. The First Warning could arrive any second. We’ve run out of time for rituals and rules.”
Tomo shifted in his seat, his expression offering no hints whether his silence was a show of support or disapproval.
“Perhaps,” Renata said, “if she trains with all of them, we’ll discover who can withstand her gift before she chooses, and avoid another tragedy.”
“No, no, no.” Calabrese waved his hands to ward off the idea. “The people are already restless, they can’t handle sudden changes to our most sacred traditions.”
“Traditions won’t save us from the scarabeo,” Alessa said.
“The people are restless, Padre,” Renata acceded. “And another dead Fonte could be the match that lights a wildfire.”
“We can’t abandon—”
“We won’t abandon anything,” Alessa said, clasping her hands in something akin to prayer. “Merely change the order of events a bit.”
“The people don’t need to know,” Renata said. “We can tell everyone she’s chosen her Fonte, but out of respect for her past Fontes, we’re having a private ceremony, with a grand reveal to come.”
“And how do you propose we keep them from noticing that none of the Fontes have left their homes?”
“Bring them all here,” Alessa said, struggling to keep her elation from showing. “We can say they’ve been moved into safer quarters or are staying here to support the chosen Fonte.”
Saverio’s religious leaders and elected officials whispered amongst themselves, faces drawn. The church elders looked unconvinced, but a few of the politicians nodded thoughtfully.
Alessa rose. “I appreciate your support.” Not permission. “As you know, it’s critical we present a united front in such perilous times.”
“Agreed,” said Renata, but her eyes held a clear warning for her rebellious charge.
Tomo nodded. “We can’t walk the same path again and again and lament arriving at the same destination.”
“Padre Calabrese, esteemed councilors,” Renata said. “We are, as ever, thankful for your guidance and support.”
Tomo pressed a kiss to Renata’s hand and stood. “I’ll begin preparations immediately and instruct the escorts to wait on their doorsteps until they’re packed and ready. We’ll have everyone moved in this afternoon.”
“Excellent, dear.” Renata smiled up at him. “Finestra, shall we?”
Padre Calabrese seemed to realize a moment too late that the tide had turned on him. “Hold on. When will she make her final decision?”
Renata shrugged. “Carnevale. Side by side, our royal saviors will kick off the festivities from the Finestra’s balcony.”
Carnevale was perfect. Preparations for every Divorando involved gathering seeds, young plants, and animals. As long as someone, anyone, survived to open the gates afterward, Saverio would have a chance to rebuild and regrow. When those essentials were secured behind heavy locked doors on the lowest levels of the Fortezza, the people would have one night to cavort in the streets in the beautiful clothes they couldn’t pack, gorge themselves on delicacies too perishable for the Fortezza, and drink themselves silly on wine and spirits. Carnevale was a collective taunting of the scarabeo, who might take lives and strip the world bare, but would not get their wine or chocolate.
“Brilliant, my dear,” said Tomo. “Carnevale is a celebration of life’s fleeting joys, after all, and what’s more joyful than knowing your saviors will ensure there will be more joy to come? A quiet ceremony the following morning, on the Day of Rest and Repentance when there are no services, and the new Duo’s first public outing can be the Blessing of the Troops the next day. Perfection.”
Padre Calabrese blinked, but had no rebuttal.
Alessa dropped a low curtsy, her loose hair concealing the victorious smile spreading across her face. She’d won.
The temple doors had barely closed before Renata whirled on her. “Next time you decide to mutiny, Finestra, please remember to inform us ahead of time.”
Alessa deserved a medal for the shortest-lived victory in history.
She caught sight of a shadow on the floor in the corridor beyond and bit back her automatic apology. “I thought you wanted me to be a leader. Doesn’t leadership require making decisions?”
“It doesn’t mean keeping secrets from us.”
“Oh?” Alessa said, lowering her voice. If the Consiglio wasn’t debating the merits of killing her yet, she wouldn’t give them any ideas.
Tomo frowned. “What’s this about?”
“Do you believe in me, Renata?” Alessa tried to hold Renata’s gaze, but her eyes kept slipping to the door.
“Of course,” said Renata. “You’re the Finestra.”
“Am I? Or should we end my life and see if a better one rises?”
The older woman’s cool expression barely changed, but a subtle play of thoughts tightened the skin around her eyes. “I’ve already told you to disregard that ridiculous man.”
“And yet, you haven’t.”
Tomo sighed. “Renata. She heard us.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I heard you.” Alessa spoke directly to Renata. “I’ve heard the theories, too, and I don’t blame you for discussing them. Your duty is to prepare for what’s coming, and that means weighing every possibility, no matter how unpleasant. But next time, I should be a part of the conversation.”
“I wasn’t seriously considering it,” Renata said, each word sharp enough to draw blood, “but Tomo and I have a responsibility to Saverio.”
“I have a responsibility to this island, too. If you decide my death is the price we must pay—if you truly think it’s our best chance—I’ll accept your decision and do it myself. I will not, however, stand by and do nothing if I am attacked without warning.”
Alessa had never been more thankful for the pockets to hide her shaking hands. She’d never stood up to her mentors before, but it was time. No more waiting to kill or be killed.
Renata reached for Tomo’s arm, and they turned to leave, but the doorway was occupied.
Alessa nearly groaned aloud.
“Who are you?” Renata demanded of Dante.
“Someone who’s terrible at following directions,” Alessa muttered. She gathered a breath for strength. “He’s my new guard.”
Renata studied Dante the way a cat nudged a dead bird to see if it was fresh enough to eat. “Why is this one out of uniform?”
“This one,” drawled Dante, “doesn’t like uniforms.”
“And who, exactly, are you?” Renata asked again.
Dante gave her a cold smile. “You heard her. I’m her new guard.”
“And what happened to your previous guard, Finestra?” Renata asked, turning the title into a warning.
Alessa tried to speak, but the words seemed to be locked in a vault. “He … abdicated his duty.”
“What did he do?” The lightning flash of rage in Renata’s eyes did more to reassure Alessa than anything she’d said thus far.
Talking about what happened would make it too real. The terror had barely settled, and she couldn’t bear to stir it up again. It must have shown on her face, though, because Renata inhaled sharply. “I’ll have Lorenzo stripped of his rank immediately.”
“Thank you.”
“But honestly, did you throw a letter out the window and hire the first person who picked it up?”
“It doesn’t matter how I found him.”
“A stranger shows up at the Cittadella at the Finestra’s side, and you don’t want us to ask any questions?” Tomo scolded gently.
“The guidelines say a Finestra has the right to choose her own security personnel, as long as they’re no relation.” If relations were permitted, she would’ve begged Adrick on day one. Which was why the rule existed in the first place. Cutting ties with one’s previous life didn’t include dragging your twin brother along.
Tomo rubbed his temples. “The troops will be your only defense when Divorando comes, Finestra. If you’re unsure of their fealty, we should take action.”
She wasn’t sure of anyone’s fealty. The only person whose motivations she understood was standing right in front of her. Dante had little chance of surviving Divorando without her, which meant that to him, her life was valuable.
“I will put my complete faith in our troops when it’s time for battle,” Alessa said, looking from Renata to Tomo. “But I’ll focus on my duties better until then, knowing I have someone trustworthy watching my back.”
For years, Alessa had been the figurehead of an army that treated her like a child at best, and an enemy at worst, but now she was in charge of someone. A strong young man who didn’t take a knee for anyone, including the former Finestra and Fonte, and while he wasn’t cowed by her authority either, he did follow her orders. Some of them. Regardless, he worked for her.
Renata sucked in a breath, and Alessa steeled her spine. “He’s an experienced fighter, and I won’t discuss this any further.”
It was first time she’d ever seen Renata speechless.
Rebellion might prove addictive.