Al povero mancano tante cose, all’avaro tutte.
A poor man lacks many things, but a greedy man lacks them all.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 14
The following day dawned too beautiful to trust. No icy rain or brutal heat, no ominous clouds. In fact, no clouds at all. No breeze, for that matter, but the temperature was too perfect to complain about the stillness, and the world outside Alessa’s balcony rang with the sweet twittering of birds beneath an azure sky.
She’d slept alone, in her bed, heart aching to be near him, to cling to their last hours together, but Dante was more cool than usual.
She decided to work innuendo into as many sentences as possible, hoping the challenge of making him laugh would tamp down her anxiety and dread about saying goodbye.
The Fontes would be sequestered with the Consiglio for a grueling series of final interviews. Their strengths and weaknesses would be weighed and measured, and they’d be ranked. After, she’d see who was left and who—if anyone—would volunteer.
She had nothing to do but worry until then. She’d worn her loose white Consiglio gown, in case they called her in, so at least she was comfortable while her insides twisted into knots.
Alessa opted to worry in the gardens, which worked out nicely as Dante had plenty of room to pace. She picked a tiny white flower from a nearby bush and pushed the stem into her high bun, then another.
Kamaria was the most likely to volunteer, and if Alessa was choosing, she’d be her top choice. But the whiff of treason left by Shomari’s defection was a variable she couldn’t dismiss.
Kaleb wasn’t likely to volunteer. Nina was so fragile. Saida’s gift was tricky to use. Josef would be a strong battle partner, but in his time at the Cittadella, she’d barely seen him smile. It shouldn’t matter, but the thought of facing Divorando without a few laughs was rather depressing.
By the second hour, Alessa had an entire halo of lacy petals around the base of her topknot and had moved on to gathering a bouquet.
“How long is this going to take?” Dante grumbled. “You have pollen in your hair, by the way.”
Alessa brushed at it, but she couldn’t see the top of her head. “Emer and Ilsi were approved within a half hour, but it took an entire day before the Consiglio cleared Hugo. I thought for sure they were going to send him home and make me choose again.”
Dante stopped pacing. “You never talk about him.”
“He wasn’t the most interesting person. He was so bland that he might as well have been a bowl of vanilla pudding. I chose him because I was tired of killing people I liked.”
“Oh. Is today worse or better, then?”
“Both?” she admitted. “I like them. All of them. Even Kaleb. I have more control over my power now, but I’m still asking someone to face Armageddon.”
A line formed between Dante’s eyebrows as he walked over to tilt her chin—down, not up, alas—and blew on her hair, gently de-pollinating her.
“Did you know that Finestra is a base word for other words?” She couldn’t help herself. “Like defenestration.”
Dante stopped blowing. “Yes.” He sounded wary. Smart of him. “It means to throw someone out of a window.”
She snickered. “Or to break a window. It’s a metaphor for—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
She fluttered her eyelashes in mock innocence. “Deflowering a virgin.”
Dante couldn’t stop the laugh that burst free. “I want it on the record that I didn’t even touch your flowers.”
“There’s still time.”
“Is this a side effect of forced purity and years with nothing but novels for entertainment?” He tugged his ear. “All these pent-up naughty thoughts finally taking over?”
“Maybe,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Or maybe it reined me in, and I would have been even worse. Can you imagine?”
“Dea help me, I cannot,” Dante said, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead. It promptly slipped back, and Alessa reached to brush it away. His jaw went tight. “I need some exercise.”
With a sigh, Alessa trudged after him to the outdoor training yard around the side of the building. Dante started doing pull-ups, and she strolled closer for a better view.
“Can I help you?” Dante asked.
“I’m sure you could.”
With a huff, he dropped to the ground for push-ups.
“Ever since you called yourself stale bread, I’ve had a wicked craving.”
He paused, shook his head, then pushed back up.
“I adore bread. Especially baguettes. Long, thick, hot and slathered with—”
He hit the ground, shaking with laughter. “Enough. Mercy. You’re a champion of lewd baking metaphors.”
“I haven’t even begun. I grew up in a bakery, you know. Should I detail my obsession with pastries?”
He got to his feet and dusted his palms. “I am not a pastry.”
“Sure you are. One of those mystery pies that could be savory, but actually has a sweet filling under all those layers of crispy dough.”
He squinted at her. “Are you calling me doughy?”
“You started it.”
Someone coughed discreetly. A servant hovering nearby. “Excuse me, miss. Interviews are over and the Fontes are waiting for you.”
Alessa wasn’t sure what she expected when she entered the library, but she didn’t expect to find Nina sobbing and clinging to Josef, Saida with her head in her hands, Kamaria shouting at everyone to shut up, and Kaleb chugging the contents of a glass decanter that had been half full of vodka the last time Alessa checked.
“Hey!” Dante shouted. When they kept at it, he kicked the door shut with a loud bang that cut through the noise.
“What is going on?” Alessa said.
Everyone began yelling at once. Nina’s wails drowned out whatever Josef was trying to say in his calm, precise way, and Kaleb seemed to be yelling nonsense sounds from pure annoyance while Saida berated him for being immature at a “time like this.”
“Will you shut up already?” Kamaria hollered. “For Dea’s sake. Bunch of headless chickens.”
Alessa took advantage of the decreased volume to ask again.
Kamaria held up a hand to stop anyone from interrupting. “Everyone volunteered. Including me, obviously the best choice.” Alessa’s surge of relief didn’t last long. “But the esteemed old farts of the Consiglio aren’t too thrilled about my brother’s recent decisions—shut up, Kaleb!—so, despite the fact that I am obviously the best choice”—she shouted the last part in Kaleb’s direction—“they unanimously recommended Josef. So Kaleb’s sulking about his wounded pride, Saida’s convinced you need a more supportive Fonte, Nina’s flipping out about Josef being picked, and like I said, I’m obviously the correct choice no matter what a bunch of stuffy old people think, so they all need to cut it out already!”
Alessa blinked once. Twice.
Kamaria crossed her arms. “But. Obviously, the final decision is yours, and when you pick me, I’ll fight the Consiglio myself if they don’t put their stamp on it. So. Choose.”
Of all the scenarios she’d mentally prepared for, Alessa hadn’t made it this far into the realm of the impossible.
Kamaria wasn’t wrong about who she’d prefer, but she’d made a promise. While she hadn’t expected more than one Fonte to vie for the position, the fact remained: she’d promised she wouldn’t choose. They’d done their part by volunteering, and the Consiglio had done theirs. The only way to keep her word was to accept the official verdict.
“I’m sorry, Nina,” Alessa said. “But I have to accept the—”
“No! You can’t have him!” Nina’s gift exploded with her rage, and the nearest window shattered.
The world erupted into a deadly rainbow of flying glass.
Dante shielded Alessa, but her ears rang in the silence that followed.
Still, she couldn’t mistake what Nina said next.
“I should have dropped a hundred statues on you.”
Alessa dug her fingernails into her palms, but a glass-fronted cabinet bowed and wavered like a bubble about to pop, and another wave of glass burst across the room.
“Stop it, Nina!” Josef shouted. “What have you done?”
Nina’s anger dissolved into pitiful sobs.
Kamaria lay curled on the floor, clutching her leg as blood spread across her buff-colored pants.
Dante took Alessa’s chin, turning her face to him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said, ducking away. “Kaleb, how bad is it?”
Kaleb pressed on Kamaria’s leg. “Bleeding’s slowing. She’ll be okay, but she’ll have a wicked scar.”
Alessa turned to see Dante pulling a massive shard of glass from his shoulder. He sagged against the wall, sliding down it to sit. Cursing at herself, Alessa hurried to give him cover. She hadn’t even asked if he was hurt. He’d heal, but the sight of exposed muscle and bone turned her stomach, and the remnants of his tattered sleeve weren’t enough to hide the damage.
“Help Kamaria. I’ll be fine,” Dante said to Alessa.
“I know you will, but they don’t.” She looked around desperately for something to cover his torn flesh as it began to knit together.
The door flew open. Guards stared, open-mouthed, at the room dusted with glass and blood.
“There was an accident,” Alessa said. “Get bandages. Go!”
It took them a moment, but the Cittadella guards were tasked with protecting the Finestra and Fonte, not arguing, and their training kicked in.
“Saida and Kaleb, help Kamaria to the couch. Elevate her leg.”
Kaleb gaped at Dante. “What about—”
“Just do it.” Alessa bent farther, blocking Kaleb’s view.
“I’m sorry,” Nina cried. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. This was an accident.”
Unlike the statue.
Alessa clenched her teeth. First, she had to take care of Kamaria and protect Dante’s secret. Then, she’d deal with Nina’s betrayal.
Saida rushed inside with an armful of bandages, colliding with Nina, who seemed struck by the need to make amends and tried to wrestle them from her. Rolling her eyes, Saida shoved a handful into Nina’s hands and took the rest to where Kamaria lay on the couch, forearm over her eyes.
Alessa held up a hand to stop Nina, but she kept coming, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on Dante’s shoulder, where he was trying, unsuccessfully, to cover what was left of his injury with his free hand.
Nina stopped mid-stride and shrieked.
“What?” Saida said. “What’s wrong?”
Heaving for breath, Nina pointed. “Ghiotte!”
Kamaria groaned.
“Oh,” said Saida. “Yeah. I had a hunch.”
Teeth bared in a snarl, Dante struggled to his feet as Kaleb stalked over. He’d never looked more like a cornered animal, and it made Alessa ache.
Kaleb stopped a safe distance away. “No wonder you win every fight. I should have known.”
“What is wrong with all of you?” Nina cried. “He’s the reason she killed Emer and Ilsi and Hugo.”
“Dante wasn’t even here when my previous Fontes died,” Alessa said. “He’s done nothing but help us.”
Nina shook her head. “No, he’s evil. A killer.”
“Like you almost became today?” Alessa said. “Or when you used your gift to knock a statue on me?”
Nina began to sob. “I didn’t want to. I was scared.”
“For Dea’s sake, Nina, you tried to kill the Finestra,” Kaleb said. “Take it down a notch with the righteous indignation. Dante had more than enough opportunity to kill us all, but so far, you’re the only one who’s tried to.”
“Nina.” Josef said, jaw tight. “If word gets out about this, it won’t be good for anyone.”
An understatement. If the public suspected a ghiotte had infiltrated the Cittadella, they’d blame him for every death she’d caused. Few would listen to reason.
“I’ll leave.” Dante said.
“No!” Alessa couldn’t tell who’d yelled louder—her, Saida, or Kamaria.
“I say he stays,” Saida said. “And Nina leaves.”
Kaleb shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not telling anyone. But Nina talks more than she prays, and she prays plenty. I don’t think she can keep this to herself.”
“Nina,” Alessa said. “I don’t want to banish you, but I will if I have to. If you’d rather be safe inside the Fortezza, protected by me, you’ll give me your word you’ll take this secret to your grave.”
Josef pulled himself up to his full height. “I give you my word. If she tells a soul, you can banish me, too.”
“Nina?” Alessa waited.
Nina glared through her tears. “I’ll stay quiet, but only if you don’t choose Josef.”
A love for a love.
Alessa nodded. “Josef, take her home.”
Still sobbing, Nina let Josef lead her toward the door. His stone face slipped as they reached it, and he cast one last apologetic look behind him.
“So, what’s the deal?” Kaleb asked Alessa. “You can’t hurt Dante at all?”
“I can, and I have,” Alessa said. “But he’s a lot harder to kill than other people, so he’s been helping me control my power. He’s been helping me exactly as I told you, and more. And I think, maybe, his gift almost works like a … release valve?”
Saida snorted loudly. “Sorry. Can’t help myself.”
Alessa ignored her. “All I know is that I can control myself better with him—Saida, stop laughing—than the rest of you. It’s been extremely helpful, and without him, you’d all be in much worse shape.”
Kaleb circled Dante. “A real live ghiotte, huh? I always thought you’d have horns. Disappointing.”
“Finestra,” Saida said, “I don’t think Kamaria will be in fighting shape, so it has to be me or Kaleb. Who do you choose?”
• • •
Hours later, the library was scrubbed clean, and only one Fonte remained in the Cittadella. The others had said tearful farewells, promising to return for the ceremony the following day.
In the end, it hadn’t really been a choice. She’d never been able to use Saida’s gift very well, and with Kamaria unable to stand, Kaleb was the only one left. He’d gone pale, but accepted graciously, bowing and saying something about honor and duty. Saida had burst into tears while Kamaria gnawed on her lip, glowering in the way of a person trying not to cry.
Alessa and her partner stepped out to wave at the crowd below.
Thousands of people, clad in their brightest garb, flowed through the streets like a multi-hued river, down from the Cittadella, all the way to the city gates and beyond. Everyone was invited to Carnevale, even the Marked. One last day for every Saverian to enjoy the best life had to offer before the gates and the Fortezza were locked, and they were left outside. Every face glowed with a fierce determination to enjoy the night. There was no celebration like the last hurrah before a battle.
Alessa waved until her arm grew tired, until the cheers faded enough for the Grand Master to announce the start of the festivities and dismiss the crowd. A new roar erupted as the people of Saverio donned their masks and turned away from their saviors, moving on to more important matters, like living.
The next day, after the confetti and detritus of Carnevale was swept away, Alessa and Kaleb would be joined before Dea and the eyes of the Church, forever bound by shared duty and responsibility. He’d be her constant companion until Divorando, her partner in every way that mattered, until they faced death together and, hopefully, saved their home from annihilation.
“Excellent,” said Renata from just inside the doors. “That went beautifully. Now, I’ll leave you two alone. But first…” She looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I should probably remind you that while Dea had the good sense to make sure regular use of a Finestra’s gift is effective for preventing pregnancy, when Divorando is over, you will have to find, erm, other methods.”
Kaleb shot a frantic glance at Alessa. She bit her knuckles to stop from laughing and gave him a quick eye roll, which seemed to calm him a bit, but his palpable relief that the magical side-effect of her power would be irrelevant for their relationship only made it harder not to laugh. As a battle partner, Kaleb checked most of the boxes. As a lover? Not so much.
Besides, her heart was already taken.
Dante waited inside, his face colored by a spray of fireworks, as musicians outside took up their instruments and a vigorous tune joined the sounds of laughter, sparklers, and exclamations of joy.
The awkward trio surveyed each other as Renata left the suite.
“Was she saying—” Kaleb started.
Alessa snorted a laugh. “Yes, Kaleb. Any Finestra and Fonte are temporarily infertile as long as they regularly use their gifts. Dea’s no fool, and battling morning sickness and scarabeo at the same time would be a bit difficult, don’t you think?”
Dante studied the floor.
“Huh,” Kaleb said. Bobbing his head nervously, he tapped his leg along with the rhythm. “Well, that’s good to know, but also, I didn’t need to know that. Kinda wish I could forget that happened, actually.”
Alessa giggled. “You should go to Carnevale, Kaleb.”
“What?” Kaleb spluttered. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” she asked. “Most people wear masks or face paint. No one has to know. It may not be a regular wedding, but every bachelor should have one last night on the town before settling down.”
And every bride deserved an evening with the man she loved before promising herself to someone else.
Kaleb wavered briefly, then ran out the door, calling out his thanks over his shoulder.
Dante gazed out at the purple sky. “They’re going to burn the city down if they set off any more of the big ones.”
“Way to focus on the positive.” Alessa came up behind him and took a chance, resting her forehead between his shoulder blades, her hands sliding around his waist.
Dante covered her hands with his and nodded to the wall, where a dozen glittering Carnevale masks hung. “What’s the point of the masks, anyway?”
“My mother said it was so people could kiss other people’s partners and pretend it was an accident.”
He laughed. “Pick one. I want to see how you look.”
“They’re priceless. They were ordination gifts from past Carnevale Masters.”
“Who better to wear one, then?” He stepped out of her arms and took down a red mask with curved black horns, dusted with gold. Turning back, he held it to his face. “How do I look?”
“Like a vengeful demon.”
He made his next selection—pale blue and silver, with edges curved like wings—and cradled it in his hands. “Then I guess you’re the blessed savior.”
Something hung in the air, a finality she couldn’t ignore. Tomorrow, he would leave. She hadn’t asked him again if he’d seek refuge in the Fortezza or not, afraid she already knew his answer.
Even if she did save Saverio, there was no promise they’d both be alive when it was over.
Dante’s eyes shone as he held out the mask. “What do you say, Finestra? One reckless night before you save the world?”