Quando l’amico chiede, non v’è domani.
When a friend asks, there is no tomorrow.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 19
Alessa’s blood went cold. “I don’t believe you.” Her words didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.
“Believe it.” His voice was flat. “This kid found me after I ran away. Couldn’t have been more than ten. Trips over a bloody, barely conscious stranger on the beach, and instead of running, decides to nurse me back to health.” He laughed bitterly. “She saw me heal. I couldn’t hide it.”
Alessa hid a shiver. The Dante she knew—or thought she knew—would never kill an innocent child to keep them quiet. But maybe she didn’t know him at all.
“So, I lied. Said I’d found the Fonte della Guarigione high on a cliff. She wanted to know where, kept asking, so I kept lying, moving it higher, making it too hard to get to. But she wouldn’t let it go.”
A curious child. A fearful secret. And Dante, on the run and desperate to hide the truth.
Alessa was going to be sick.
His eyes burned like embers. “I found her body the next morning, shattered on the rocks below.”
She swallowed back tears, even as her knees went weak with relief. “An accident. You didn’t mean for her to get hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. I, of all people, know what that’s like.”
“Stop!” Dante shouted. “We aren’t the same. You touch people and they die, but it’s not your choice and it’s not your fault. Everyone who cares about me dies, and it’s always my fault. You give. I take.”
“Then change.”
“People don’t change.”
“I have.” Her voice shook with anger. “I’ve changed so many times I’ve lost count. When I became Finestra, I was a naive girl who believed what anyone told me, followed the rules without question, even when it felt wrong. Even when I thought I’d shrivel up and blow away. I became a husk of a person, all pain and bitterness. Then you came. And you didn’t revere me or pity me. You noticed when I made myself small, and I hated it. I wanted to prove you wrong, so I changed.” Alessa drew herself up and looked him in the eyes. “I don’t care what anyone says—your gift is a part of you, but it doesn’t define you. You can choose to be better.”
His eyes were hard. “Well, I choose not to. And this”—he pointed from himself to her and back—“is not a thing. We aren’t the same. We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything. I’ll finish this damn job because we made a deal, but that’s it.”
“You are such an ass.”
“Now you’re catching on.”
Fury spiked through her. She wanted to dig her fingers into his stubborn face until she stole his soul from his body, once and for all. Ghiotte or no, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
She stormed out instead. Any would-be assassin who chose this moment to attack her would lose.
For five lonely years she’d told herself it was only her gift and her position that kept everyone away. That if anyone spent time with her, then, surely, they would care about her. Not the Finestra or the savior. Her. Alessa.
But Dante had heard it all, and he didn’t care. He was only there because she paid him to be, and she was so pathetic she couldn’t tell the difference between a friend and an employee.
She needed air. She needed to escape.
At the sound of voices ahead, she ducked inside the darkened kitchens.
From the thickest shadows, someone hissed her name. Not her title. Her name.
A dark figure stalked toward her.
She backed away, feeling behind herself for the open door. Instead, her hands met the hard muscle of Dante’s thigh.
“For Crollo’s sake, there you—” he started to say, before swiftly lunging around her to shove the shadowy form against the wall. A blade flashed in the dim light from the hall, and the intruder yelped.
Alessa knew that yelp. “Stop!” she cried out. “It’s my brother!”
For a second, she thought Dante would slice his throat anyway, but he stepped back, knife pointed at Adrick’s chest.
“Adrick, what are you doing here?” Alessa demanded.
“What is he doing?” Adrick retorted. “He’s not a Fonte.”
“He’s my guard.”
Adrick raked Dante with a skeptical look. “Half dressed?”
Dante had grabbed a shirt before following her, but only a few of the buttons were fastened.
Dante’s eyebrows lowered. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, it is.” Adrick’s eyes narrowed.
“Dante, could you give us a minute?”
Dante’s glare deepened. “Yell if you need me.”
Adrick stepped forward, the faint light from the French doors to the gardens illuminating his face as he cast a furtive glance around the dark, quiet kitchen.
“Adrick, how did you get inside?”
He rubbed his hands on his pants. “I know someone. Who is that guy? Didn’t he fight at the docks at one point?”
Alessa sighed loudly. “I told you, Dante is my guard. And yes, he used to fight at the Barrel. Enough stalling. What was going on today? Who tried to poison me? And why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter right now.”
“Doesn’t matter? Because it looks to me like you made Papa’s special cookies and gave them to someone who added poison to them and delivered them here so I would get sick or die. And you aren’t even slightly surprised. Why?”
Adrick seemed to steel himself. “I’ll explain after you tell me if you have a Fonte. Is it working?”
She jerked back. “Yes. Sort of. It’s complicated.”
“It’s a simple question.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s a complicated answer.”
“So, no, then. And everyone here knows it, so you had to hire a thug from the docks to be your hired muscle.” His face twisted like he was fighting a laugh, and Alessa waited for the punch line, but he choked on a sob. “You’ve tried, but there’s no time left.”
“You’re giving up on me? Really? Adrick, I am trying so damn hard—”
“I know. I know you’re trying.” Adrick’s hoarse whisper faded into defeat. “You always are. Trying to cook dinner and burning everything, so we have to eat watered down soup instead. Trying to write the perfect essay for homework, then forgetting it at home so I have to retrieve it for you and get in trouble. Trying to be Finestra and killing your Fontes instead, leaving me to do the work of two people and jeopardizing all our lives.”
Every word sliced another wound that would never heal. A lifetime of guilt and embarrassment thrown in her face, and it only hurt more that it seemed to pain him to say it.
She was a burden. A screwup. And Adrick knew better than anyone, because he’d been there, cleaning up after her.
“I’m sorry.” Adrick’s face had never looked so drawn and serious. “But there aren’t points for effort in this. I don’t want this any more than you do, but I … I think, maybe, that’s why I’m here. Maybe the whole reason I was born.” Tears glittered in his eyes as he pulled a small bottle from his pocket.
Alessa backed away, her skin going cold. “What is that, Adrick?”
If she had to endure his betrayal, he needed to live with the guilt of saying it.
“You had your calling, sister. Now I understand mine. You know I’d never want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
Adrick flinched. “Why do you think I told you to leave today? Do you think they would have been as careful as I would? No one else would take every precaution to make sure you didn’t suffer. Don’t you see? This is your way out. You’ll be a hero, and we’ll be saved.” Tears streamed down his face. “I made it special. For you.”
She wanted to scream, to pound his chest with her fists. She wanted to cling to him and beg him to take it back. Instead, she remained perfectly still, barely breathing.
Adrick placed the small blue bottle into her palm and wrapped her gloved fingers around it.
She stood there, staring at her closed fist between his hands. It was the most contact they’d had in years.
“Are you going to force it down my throat?” she whispered.
His eyes closed. “No. I know you’ll do the right thing.”
Dante darkened the doorway. “Time’s up.”
“Goodbye, little sister.” Adrick swiped at his eyes. “I’ll make sure no one ever forgets your sacrifice.”
Adrick left, and Dante approached, brows knit. “What was that about?”
Oh, now he was concerned? After he’d thrown their friendship in her face, he expected her to rip her wounds wide open for him? “Like you care.”
“I didn’t mean the stuff I said.”
“Save it. I don’t want to talk to you.”
She ran to the French doors at the end of the kitchens and threw them open.
A frigid wind whipped her skirts around her legs, and icy rain pelted her face. Despite her gloves, her fingertips stung as soon as she stepped outside.
“Bad night for a stroll,” Dante said behind her.
“I need to think.”
“Unpleasant spot for it.”
“Unpleasant company isn’t helping. If you want to finish this job, do it. But be a shadow.” If he didn’t want to be her friend, he could be her enemy. That seemed to be all she had left anyway.
“Can I say something?”
“No.” It felt delicious to shoot him down.
Ice coated the branches, encasing the trees like glass sculptures. Shivers shook her, but she kept walking.
Dante dogged her footsteps. “I’m trying to apologize.”
“Don’t bother.”
He sighed heavily. “Look. People usually try to kill me when they find out. I panicked.” He blocked her path, his gaze intent beneath eyelashes glittering with ice. “Will you please come inside?”
“No.”
He growled in frustration. “I’ll do it, okay? I’ll let you practice on me.”
“Why? You don’t care about Saverio.”
“I’m not offering to help Saverio. I’m offering to help you.”
She closed her eyes. “Forget it. It was a ridiculous idea. You don’t even have a gift I can use.”
“What do you want?” Dante demanded.
The frigid rain dripped down her cheeks like tears. “To be left alone.”
“Not now. In general. You say you want to be a hero, but you’re real quick to play the victim. You say you want friends, but you won’t forgive me. You say you want my help, but you won’t take it. So, what is it?”
She gestured to the high wall around the garden, at everything it kept her from. “To save Saverio. That’s what the Finestra is meant to do.”
“I didn’t ask what everyone wants from you. I asked what you want.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I think you’re scared.”
She rolled her eyes. “A swarm of demons is coming, and I have to protect us. Who wouldn’t be scared?”
“No, that’s not it. You’re scared of losing yourself.”
“I’m supposed to lose myself. My name, my family, my life.”
“Exactly. And you don’t want to. Can’t blame you, but you need to decide what you get out of this, if you’re going to pull it off. So, what do you want?”
“I want it all to go away!” She whirled away from him. “I want to stop being brave and alone. I want a hug when I’m sad, like a normal girl with a home and a family. I want to hold hands and kiss in dark alleys and swim naked in the ocean and do every other silly little thing I never realized I might never get to do.”
“There are better places for kissing than alleys.”
She laughed, dangerously close to hysteria. “Thanks for the tip. Doubt I’ll need it.”
“If you want to control your power so you can live a normal life and kiss in every alley in the city after Divorando, then grab onto that.” He shivered. “Now, can we please go inside?”
She tried to retort with something witty and sharp, but her teeth chattered too fiercely for her to speak.
“Dammit, I’m claiming bodyguard prerogative. Come on.” Grabbing her wrist, Dante towed her behind him.
The warmth of the kitchen wasn’t enough. Every shudder sent ice rattling to the floor from her wet skirts.
Dante attacked them, swatting at the layer of caked-on ice. “Hate to break it to you, but dying of hypothermia won’t help Saverio.”
She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “It might.”
He looked up at her. “You don’t really believe that.”
“Other people do.”
Dante’s gaze fell on the bottle in her hands. “What is that?”
She hesitated. “My mother’s perfume.”
Dante snatched it from her numb fingers, uncorking it to wipe the rim with a finger and raise it to his lips.
“No!” She tried to grab it back.
He hid the bottle behind his back. “What’s in it?”
She clenched her teeth, but her lower lip trembled.
Dante dumped the contents into a potted miniature lemon tree and hurled the empty bottle into the soil. He was gearing up to rail at her, though how it was her fault her brother wanted her to poison herself, she didn’t know. But his expression said he wanted to hurt someone, and she was the only one there to take it.
She managed a weak, “I like that tree,” and burst into tears.
Muttering profanities that somehow sounded sympathetic, he crushed her to his chest, and she clutched at him, desperate for his body heat seeping through their layers of cold, wet clothing. The truth poured out in a torrent—how a thousand mistakes in her life had piled on top of each other, how Adrick had counted them up, tallying the proof that she couldn’t do the one thing she must. How every minor embarrassment and childhood error was now evidence used against her by the person she’d trusted to stand by her no matter what. Ivini had stolen the last member of her family, but it was her failings that made it possible for him to do so.
She could feel Dante’s struggle for control in the taut muscles of his back as he fought the urge to chase Adrick down, but she fisted her hands in his shirt and held on for dear life. If he left her now, she’d crumble into nothing.
“What if he’s right?” she asked. “Maybe I was never meant to do this. Dea had faith in me, but I didn’t deserve it. Everyone’s figured it out but me. You said it yourself. The gods have given up on us—or at least me.”
“Now you start listening to me?” Dante said. “People like Ivini make a living convincing scared people they know the answers, but the loudest people rarely know the most.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”
“It doesn’t mean he’s right, either. Come on, let me try.”
Did she even have a choice? Did she ever have a choice?
“You think too much.” He tipped her chin up with a gloved finger. “All talk, huh? Brave enough to suggest it, but not to make a move.”
Her breath caught. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I’m trying to tempt you. You said I can be better, so let me try.”
“And you keep saying you aren’t a hero.” Something fluttered to life in Alessa’s heart—hope, fear, or something else entirely.
“I’m not.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “You’re the hero. I’m just asking a girl to hold my hand.”