Molti che vogliono l’albero fingono di rifiutare il frutto.
Many desire the tree who pretend to refuse the fruit.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 15
Dante and Alessa ignored each other as much as two people could while trapped in close proximity, but the morning was so tense she was eager to start training. Nothing like a day of torturing friends to get a girl’s mind off the sting of rejection.
For their last day of training before Carnevale, however, Crollo blessed Saverio with a blistering heat wave, and the temperature plus the looming deadline meant tempers were short when she arrived in the training room.
The room grew stifling as the temperature ticked higher by the minute. Alessa and Josef teamed up to cool the room, but he couldn’t withstand her efforts long enough to provide much relief, and Saida’s attempt to cool everyone merely buffeted them with air so thick it felt like being thumped by a hot blanket.
“I can’t take a whole day of this.” Kaleb groaned. “It’s like trying to breathe boiling water.”
“There’s nowhere to go,” Kamaria said. “The whole island is scorching.”
“There’s the ocean,” Kaleb said.
“We can’t go to the beach,” Alessa said. “We need to practice, and they’re all crowded.”
“Not every beach,” Dante said. He shrugged. “I know a place.”
Alessa should have objected, or at least hesitated, before agreeing, but the thought of spending their final training session together on a beach instead of the stuffy training room was too tempting.
An hour later, a train of lanterns bobbed through a tunnel growing dustier the farther they went.
Kamaria hung back with Alessa as they neared the far side of the island and got their first taste of fresh air. “So, did that wrestling match continue in your room last night? Tell me everything.”
Alessa laughed nervously.
“Not everything. I’m not asking why he’s different. But since he is … did he kiss you?”
Alessa bit the inside of her cheek. “No.”
“But he wants to.” Kamaria lowered her voice as they caught up to the others.
“That’s the problem. He doesn’t.”
“Oh, please,” Kamaria said. “That boy wants you so bad his pants might catch fire.”
Alessa shielded her face against a sudden glare of sunlight as Kaleb and Dante wrenched open the rusted gate at the end of the tunnel. “I mean, if that’s the only way to get them off.”
At Kamaria’s burst of laughter, Dante turned back, glowering.
Alessa blushed as Kamaria leaned so close her lips nearly brushed her ear. “And that, kid, is what jealousy looks like.”
Alessa stifled a laugh, hoping the sudden change in lighting was enough to disguise her fluster.
“Watch your step,” Dante called back. He kicked a rock to prop the gate open, then another for good measure.
By the time Alessa and Kamaria stepped onto the narrow ledge beyond the gate, Kaleb was half-running, half-tumbling down the narrow steps carved into the cliffside, sending rocks clattering ahead, while Josef, Nina, and Saida followed more carefully.
When Alessa had asked Dante to name the most beautiful place he’d ever seen, this had been his answer. Now, it was hers, too. The beach below was a natural harbor, a triangular slice carved from the coastline, framed by high cliffs. Cerulean water kissed white sand in a spray of prosecco bubble waves below a few determined trees and shrubs hugging the cliffside. Where the cliffs notched, grass carpeted a small clearing, perfect for a cozy beach cottage where a girl could watch for a rowboat silhouetted against the sunset.
Dante glanced back at Alessa walking beside Kamaria. “Need help?”
“We’re fine,” Alessa said. “Help Saida.”
Saida’s diaphanous skirts kept catching on the rocks, and her efforts to save them put her a little too close to the edge. Dante gave Saida his arm to help her the rest of the way down.
“If Dante’s jealous,” Alessa asked Kamaria when he was out of earshot, “why did he jump off the couch last night when we were finally getting somewhere?”
“Oh ho,” Kamaria chortled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Details? No? Ugh, you’re no fun.”
Alessa removed her shoes when they reached the sand and sat in a patch of shade beneath a withered lemon tree, while Kaleb ran straight into the ocean, fully dressed, sending arcs of water flying. Nina gleefully dragged Josef, hopping on one leg as he tried to roll up his pants, toward the water.
Kamaria took her time, disrobing without a hint of self-consciousness, as she continued their conversation.
“Broken and angry isn’t for everyone,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head. Alessa tried to focus on the girl’s face, fiercely aware that hers was going pink. “If you aren’t willing to wait for him to sort his shit out,”—her belt hit the sand—“there are easier relationships out there for a sweet, innocent thing like you.”
Alessa scrunched her nose. “It’s not innocence so much as lack of opportunity.”
Kamaria shimmied out of her pants. “Well, if grumpy boy doesn’t work out—”
“Hey,” Dante hollered. “Are you two coming in?”
Alessa lifted her chin. “A Finestra doesn’t get to run around half-naked.”
“Suit yourself.” He pulled his shirt over his head, muscles rippling across his back as he bent to remove his shoes.
Alessa snapped her mouth shut when she realized it was hanging open.
Kamaria exhaled loudly. “Did it just get hotter out here?”
“I can’t tell.” Alessa dropped her head to her knees. “I hit my melting point a while ago.”
“I bet you did.” The bronze curve of Kamaria’s hips swayed with every step as she strutted toward the waves, calling over her shoulder, “We might not be alive in a month, so whatever you want, get it now.”
Alone on the sand, sweat dripping down her spine, Alessa watched the others frolic.
Saida gathered her skirts to her knees, only to get stuck in the crossfire of a furious splash fight between Kamaria and Kaleb.
As Saida chased them through the shallows, Alessa peeled off her leggings. She’d had most of her skirts altered to cross higher in the front, because she looked frumpy wearing tights while everyone else had bare legs. Without them, her dress was borderline scandalous. Or it would be in the city. Here, with Kamaria leaping from rocks in her undergarments and Nina frolicking in a shift, Alessa felt like the prudiest of prudes.
It was already the hottest, most awkward day of her life, so with a shrug, Alessa unfastened her skirt and used it as a package for her leggings, blouse, and gloves. In only a silk slip, she stood to bask in the sunlight, skin tingling with the promise of a future sunburn, hot sand shifting beneath the tender soles of her feet.
Like all Saverian children, Alessa had spent much of her childhood bare-bottomed on the shore with salt-stiffened hair and sand in every crevice. She’d never been on this particular beach, but it felt like coming home.
Dante quickly looked away and dove under when she turned in his direction, pulling himself through the water toward an enormous boulder sticking out in the center of the cove.
Gathering her courage, Alessa paddled out to Dante and pulled herself onto the rock. “How long are we giving each other the silent treatment?”
He kept his gaze on the horizon. “I think I can keep it up for two more days.”
“I’m sure you can.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “I can tell you’re upset.”
“Yeah. I am.”
Right. Excellent. Glad she’d brought it up, then. “Well, I’m sorry. I’m sure it was disappointing to wake up and find me, when you were probably hoping for the girl with the magic hands.”
“What?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I never said I was disappointed. You thought I was thinking of someone else?”
Wait. “You were dreaming about me?” He didn’t deny it. “And you were enjoying that dream?” Her mind flashed back to the feel of his body pressed against hers.
His cheekbones darkened. “Think the evidence was pretty clear.”
“Then why did you flip out when I told you I wanted you?”
“Because you don’t. You’re desperate, and I’m your only option. That’s what you said, remember?”
“Dante, that was a joke.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Pretty soon you’ll be the most beloved person in Saverio, and I’ll be back on the docks with the rest of the trash. I know stale bread’s better than nothing when you’re starving, but you’ll be much happier if you hold out for a real meal.”
“You are not stale bread,” she said. “And I can make my own decisions.”
“Yeah, well, you hired me to look out for you until you get a Fonte. I’m not going to let you do something you’ll regret.”
“You patronizing son of a … Get up,” she said through gritted teeth.
Dante stood and crossed his arms, staring down his nose at her.
“Do I have permission to touch your chest?” she asked.
He frowned. “Why?”
“So I can shove your stubborn ass into the ocean.”
“You’re asking permission to drown me?”
“No. I’m asking permission to touch you. If I kill you, it will be entirely without your consent.”
“You know,” Dante said, in the tone of a patient teacher. “Someday you’ll thank me—”
He hit the water with a splash she hoped left his backside stinging for hours.
When the brutal sun went down and the air cooled to a tolerable temperature, they settled in a circle around a fire Kamaria had made with driftwood. Using her gift, she coaxed the lavender flames to dance while Saida sent a targeted breeze to fan them, and Nina passed out a picnic dinner.
Kaleb jutted his chin at Dante. “What happens if you touch us while touching him?”
Kamaria snickered. “I didn’t sign up for that kind of thing, but hey, two for the price of one.”
Kaleb made a gagging face at Kamaria before turning back to Alessa. “You said he’s like a gauge or whatever. So, grab on and use your handy-dandy power detector to dampen the power while we’re practicing. Makes more sense than doing it when you’re alone.”
“Depends on your goals,” Kamaria muttered.
Alessa kicked sand at her foot.
Any other day, she’d jump at the excuse to take Dante’s hand, but he could barely look at her.
“Might as well,” Saida said. “Anything’s worth a try if it might help, right?”
Nina hugged her knees. “I’ll do anything that will lower the odds of people dying.”
“Dante?” Alessa asked tightly.
Grumbling, he walked to the center of their circle.
Staring past Alessa’s shoulder instead of directly at her, he extended one hand to her and raised his other hand, thumb out to the side. His meter, she assumed.
Her heart lurched as his palm slid across hers, and his thumb turned to the ceiling.
Saida giggled, and Alessa couldn’t help but smile.
Dante’s thumb arced down.
“I guess laughter is good.” Josef said. “It is sort of funny.”
In a tragic way.
Pretending both hands she held were Josef’s, Alessa focused on sensing her power. Dante was a meter, nothing else. A weather vane with long eyelashes. A rain gauge with a tumble of dark hair over chocolate-brown eyes with tiny flecks of gold around the irises. A thermometer with—
Her thermometer hissed. “Damn, that’s cold.”
“I’m okay,” Josef said, a bit strained.
Alessa gathered the strands of power, turning her sights on the waves lapping at the shore. She held while the power built, then released.
Nina shrieked with delight as the closest waves froze into a crystalline sculpture.
“That was good!” Kamaria looked around at everyone. “Right? That seemed good.”
By the time night fell, Alessa was ready to head back, but the others wanted one last swim, so she and Dante entered the tunnels alone.
She didn’t want to be angry at him. She wanted to drink him in, to memorize his face.
But it was dark, and she could barely see him anyway.
Dante stared at the gate from the Fortezza to the Cittadella. “If we lock it behind us, they can’t get back in.”
“Then don’t lock it,” Alessa said.
“I’m not leaving an open gate below the Cittadella. That’s, like, bodyguard rule number one.” He scowled at her through his hair.
“Okay, then we’ll stay close by and let them in when they return.” She studied him. “I could give you a trim while we wait. I used to cut my brother’s hair and I’ve been doing mine for years. You want to look nice for my wedding, don’t you?”
His lips twisted. “Go ahead, Finestra. Try to make me presentable.”
Alessa led Dante to the empty kitchens, where she found a pair of shears, and ordered Dante to sit. Standing behind him, she mused about studying the texture as an excuse to run her fingers through his hair, the sheer indulgent pleasure striking like the rush of a double espresso hitting her bloodstream.
Thick, tousled strands curled around her fingers, as though they wanted to hold on. With a slow drag, she lightly scraped her nails down to his nape, and he shivered.
“I used to love having my hair played with.” She let the smile color her voice. “Don’t you find it so relaxing?”
Dante cleared his throat and said roughly, “Sure. Relaxing.”
She took her time, starting in the back and working her way around to the front, where he watched her tug the long curls straight to be sure they were even. The heel of her palm rested on his cheek as she bent closer to get a better look.
His eyes flicked down to her loose neckline, and he swallowed. He probably had a view clear down to her navel with the loose blouse she’d chosen. He might insist on punishing them both by keeping his hands to himself, but she didn’t have to make it easy for him.
Pursing her lips, she leaned in for another snip. If the only part of him she could claim was his attention, she wasn’t about to let go.
He shifted in his seat. “Are you finished?”
“Not quite,” she said. “I enjoy having you at my mercy.”
Desperation flashed in his eyes. “Do you have to make this so hard?”
She bit her lip. “I’m trying to make it hard.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I can never decide if you’re trying to sound crude or if it’s unintentional.”
“Oh, it’s always intentional. That’s the only thing I learned from all those romantic novels that I actually get to put into practice.” She put down the shears. “There. You’re gorgeous, damn you.”
Golden brown eyes searched hers, but she didn’t look away.
“You know,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “the first time I saw you in that ring, I thought you were the most terrifyingly beautiful person I’d ever seen, and I didn’t even like you at that point. I wanted you long before I knew you were an option, and I know this isn’t the right time, but after Divorando—”
“After Divorando, you’ll have your pick.” He looked unhappy but resigned.
“And what if I picked you?” She held her breath.
“You won’t. You’ll find someone like your first Fonte, and that’s not me.”
“No. You’re nothing like Emer. He was sweet and kind and gentle and the girl who chose him wanted all those things. She never thought she’d go through what I have, but that girl didn’t stand a chance of surviving. Maybe she wouldn’t have fallen for someone like you, but I’m not her anymore—”
Boom.
Dante stood. “What was that?”
Alessa put the shears in her pocket. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound good.”
Dante grabbed the first soldier who ran past. “What’s happening?”
The soldier swallowed, throat bobbing. “A mob, at the gates. Demanding to see the Finestra.”