Tardi si vien con l’acqua quando la casa è arsa.
It is too late for water when the house is burnt down.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 7
One week before Divorando, Alessa couldn’t take it any longer.
Saida and Kamaria were asleep in her bed after she’d made a big show of falling “asleep” on the couch hours earlier, and Josef and Kaleb were staying in the Fonte suite, so when she stole out of her room and eased the door closed, the coast should have been clear. But Kaleb, as always, was a pain in the ass.
“Leaving without me?” he wheezed, hanging onto the railing.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I couldn’t sleep, and I heard you stomping around out here. I’m going with you.”
“Going where?” she asked, innocently.
He gave her a look of utter exasperation. “If you say you took me to see the monster with my own eyes, maybe you won’t get accused of treason. I wanted to scold the mongrel who dared to soil my angel, or something like that.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Come on, help me down the stairs.”
Alessa didn’t want company and she didn’t want to share the few stolen moments she got with Dante, but Kaleb had a point.
They paused midway across the courtyard so Kaleb could catch his breath. “Has no one wondered why I haven’t been out and about? Truly?”
“We told everyone you’re taking your duties so seriously you’ve become a recluse. The waving was very helpful, though.” He’d waved magnanimously down to the servants from the hallway railing the day before.
“You’re going to let him out, right?” Kaleb winced with every step, his fingers digging into her arm, his free hand white on the railing.
“I can’t. Ivini’s told his supporters to back us instead of fighting us, and it would all fall apart if I align myself with a ghiotte. I can’t take that chance, especially after everyone agreed to let the Marked in. We’re finally united.”
“Yeah,” Kaleb said. “Against someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“Shocking, I know, but it turns out this whole divine savior thing isn’t quite as fun as they made it sound.”
“Not fun? What part of this isn’t fun?” Kaleb snorted with laughter. “I’m having the time of my life, aren’t you?”
“It’s a party every day.”
“Carnevale from morning to midnight.”
“A birthday that never ends.”
As they slowly made their way down through the Fortezza, they left the smooth walls of the main corridor for older, rougher tunnels, and finally, the catacombs. Kaleb was trembling and sweaty despite the damp cold, and the echoes of his wheezing made it seem as though the thousands of skulls lining the walls were breathing.
Two half-asleep guards stood outside the crypt where every deceased Fonte and Finestra lay in state.
“We’re here to pray for the…” Alessa struggled to get the words out.
“Revoltingly hideous monster,” Kaleb finished for her, speaking far louder than necessary. He grimaced and waved the guards away. “Shoo, will you? It’s bad enough without being gawked at.”
The guards traded irritated glances, but let them pass.
The mausoleum was entirely made of stone, with individual tombs on either side, gated to keep their occupants’ eternal slumber from being disturbed.
When they reached the first empty crypt, which Alessa realized with a lurch might someday be hers, she could make out the lone figure in the dark.
The day she’d met him, Dante had been in a cage, but he’d been magnificent, dominating the space with grace and power. Now he slumped in a corner, his eyes dull and lifeless. And it was her fault.
She might have thrown herself at the bars in a sobbing mess if Kaleb hadn’t shattered the moment.
“You’re not dead,” Kaleb said cheerfully.
Dante stood slowly, as if it took too much effort to move. “Neither are you.”
Kaleb bent close to the bars and spoke in a stage whisper. “Don’t know if you heard, but she tried her very best.”
Dante’s lip curled in a half smile. “She tried to kill me a few times, too.”
“First torture, then she locks you up?” Kaleb shook his head. “Women.”
Alessa rolled her eyes. “Yes, this is obviously a woman thing.”
She could have kissed Kaleb for making light of the situation, though. Dante couldn’t disguise his misery, his every movement jerky with tension, from the unconscious clench of his fingers to the tic in his jaw. It nearly broke her.
“She told you her theory?” Kaleb asked Dante.
After she finished explaining, Dante said nothing at first, merely stared at the wall. Then, “All of them, huh? You couldn’t have figured that out a few weeks ago?”
They laughed for too long, sitting in the dark, with bars between them and marble tombs all around, amidst the scurrying of rats and insects, a few days away from Armageddon.
Kaleb gave them a sheepish grin. “Well, I’m sure you’d like some privacy, but I don’t think I can make it up the stairs without help.” He turned to Alessa. “And you shouldn’t be here alone.”
Dante tensed.
“Relax,” said Kaleb. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Well, I mean—eh, not my business. Actually, I guess it is my business? But I don’t really want it to be, so anyway, there are appearances to keep up, and it needs to look like she hates you, so I’ll just … turn around for a few minutes.”
It was as close as they’d get to being alone, so Alessa put Kaleb from her mind and pressed her face to the bars. Dante met her there, warm skin framed by cold metal. She worked her hands into the stained fabric of his shirt, pulling him as close as she could.
The only sound was his rasping breath.
“Not much longer,” she whispered. “I’ll never let this happen to you again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, luce mia.” Dante kissed her forehead through the bars. “And don’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse. Probably will again.”
Her cheeks grew wet with tears. “How did you survive it for all those years?”
Dante made a low, exhausted sound. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
“I want to know everything you’re willing to share with me.” She lifted his hand to trace the lines on his dirt-creased palm, seeking to memorize the feel of every calloused fingertip and taut tendon. Raising it to her mouth, she pressed a kiss to the dark smudge inside his wrist, all that remained of the false tattoo, in silent apology. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Especially now. It’s not the time.”
“I’m in a jail cell. Seems like the perfect time for confessions.” Dante drew her hand through the bars and held it to his rough cheek. “He used to taunt me.”
Alessa swallowed. She’d come to recognize the inflection on the word he when Dante discussed his abuser. He never said the man’s name, and she suspected he never would. Names had power, as Dante knew.
“He liked to remind me that I was the last ghiotte. ‘You’re all alone and you’ll die alone, and when you do, there will be no more.’ Like he knew that would break me.”
“The scarabeo had better eat him slowly.”
Dante huffed a laugh. “He was wrong, though. And I held on to that for three years.”
She resented the involuntary tremor her body conjured at the thought of other ghiotte, prowling the forests of Saverio like she’d always imagined in her nightmares, but a lifetime of tales were hard to forget. “There are others? On Saverio?”
“Not anymore.” Dante’s grip eased, tacit permission for her to pull away, but she didn’t. “By the time I got free and went to find them, they were dead. Burned in their beds. Nothing left of their house but ash and ruins.”
Alessa closed her eyes against the sting of tears.
“I refused to believe it at first. Went to the nearest village, certain they’d be there, and I saw my aunt. She’d barely look at me, told me to get as far away as possible, change my name, and never come back. She’s not ghiotte, so they spared her, but Uncle Matteo and Talia … Gone.”
No wonder he cursed the gods. Crollo might have made his body impervious to injury, but not his heart. She refused to believe Dante was cursed, but she couldn’t deny his life had been. Yet, somehow, he’d kept swimming against an ocean of grief, fighting the current that fought to drag him down, to shape him into Crollo’s monster.
She twined their fingers together. “It’s almost over. Soon, it’ll be nothing but clear skies, cats, and beaches forever more.”
He smiled sadly. “You’re going to do great, you know.”
She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “I’d fight better if I had Saverio’s best bodyguard looking out for me.”
Dante’s sigh was so heavy with regret she felt it in her toes.
The final days sped past in a dizzying blur of preparations as the Fortezza prepared to become a hospital and the army readied their battle stations, while the ragged militia practiced with their ugly but effective-looking homemade weaponry in the piazza.
Alessa and the Fontes trained unceasingly.
They worked out a system, a rotation of sorts, to be sure everyone had a chance to breathe and restore their strength, while ensuring no one was left alone to bear the brunt of her power. Even now, the few times their timing was off left the Fontes in agony.
With every day, her power grew, as though it, too, could sense the looming darkness on the horizon.
Dante loomed, too, his face appearing in her mind at all times, no matter how inopportune, and every time, her power ran away with her.
Kaleb didn’t participate in the training, though he’d offered, but they let him sit in a chair, covered with blankets, despite his irritated protests that he looked like a sad, old man.
Three days before Divorando, their training was interrupted by a kitchen maid nervously twisting her hands in a flour-covered apron.
Apparently, a certain delivery boy had barricaded himself inside the pantry, refusing to leave unless Alessa spoke with him. The girl would have called the guards to knock down the door and drag him out, but it seemed the kitchen staff was rather fond of the charming boy from the bakery, and they were hoping Alessa wouldn’t insist on that option.
“Traitors,” Alessa muttered. After sending the girl to relay a carefully worded message laden with swear words, Alessa gave a terse summary of her last run-in with her brainwashed brother, before leading Saida, Josef, and Kamaria downstairs.
Kaleb stayed behind, sulking at missing out on the fun.
The kitchen staff cleared out when Alessa arrived.
“Go home, Adrick,” she said, glaring through the cracked pantry door.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“The last time I listened to you, you tried to get me to kill myself.”
Josef stepped toward the pantry. “Would you like us to make him leave, Finestra? I’m happy to freeze him out, or Kamaria could light the door on fire.”
Kamaria cracked her knuckles loudly. Adrick’s hair blew around his face as Saida joined in.
“I was an ass and I’m sorry,” Adrick said. “If you’d rather light me on fire than listen, so be it, but I’m not leaving.”
Alessa groaned. “Give us a minute, but if I shout, come running.”
Kamaria, Josef, and Saida retreated to the far side of the kitchen wearing matching glares as Adrick slunk out of the pantry.
“I’m sorry,” Adrick said, his shoulders hunched. “I’ve felt terrible ever since—well, you know. But I really thought I was doing the right thing. How could I have known you were being sabotaged? I didn’t even think ghiotte still existed!”
Alessa flexed her fingers. This was the point, wasn’t it? To let Dante take the fall so she was absolved from blame? Still, it was infuriating to hear it from Adrick’s lips.
“I got so stinking drunk that night, because I was all torn up, and the brother I was drinking with kept rambling on about this kid he’d tried to save from damnation, swore he was a ghiotte, and he’d tracked him down to the city where the kid was fighting for money—anyway, it took me a few days to figure out why the name sounded familiar, but eventually it clicked.”
Alessa cursed.
“I told Ivini as soon as I found out,” Adrick went on, oblivious. “And he saved you, so we’re even, right?”
Alessa’s hands itched to wrap around her brother’s neck. “You told Ivini? Because you thought it would make me forgive you? If you weren’t my brother, I’d kill you.”
Adrick’s mouth moved in silent confusion. “I—I thought—Alessa, he’s a ghiotte!”
“I’m aware,” she said. “A ghiotte who saved my life more than once, including the time my own brother tried to convince me to kill myself. So, that’s why you’re here? To claim credit for saving me from the ghiotte? Dante helped me. He believed in me. He never betrayed me. Sorry to break it to you, Adrick, but you can’t lay the blame on him. Still wish I’d taken that poison?”
Adrick exhaled shakily. “No. No, I’m really glad you didn’t. You’re my sister. I love you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“And—” He cringed. “And because a ship arrived from Altari an hour ago, crammed with people.”
“Altari? Why?” Alessa asked. “Is their Finestra even worse than I am?”
Adrick swallowed. “Their Finestra is dead.”
The air beat against her eardrums.
“A new one didn’t rise. Their island is completely defenseless.”
“Are you saying I have two islands counting on me now?” Alessa said.
Just when she thought the weight of responsibility couldn’t possibly get heavier.
“So, what, you heard their story and realized you could have been responsible for two islands being in their position?”
Adrick seemed to shrink in on himself.
“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Welcome to my life, Adrick. It’s a lot easier to blame someone else when things go wrong than it is when your decisions have terrible consequences. If I’d taken that poison, two islands’ worth of people would be waiting to die.”
“Go ahead,” Adrick said flatly. “Let them turn me into an icicle or a torch or whatever.”
“Did you see my brother, Shomari?” Kamaria interrupted, unable to pretend she wasn’t eavesdropping for another moment. “Or are other ships still on the way?”
Adrick made a face. “They put the most vulnerable people on the fastest ships and sent them first. Their gifted folk took the last and slowest, because they’ll have a better chance of defending themselves if they don’t make it in time.”
Kamaria deflated. “There’s still time, though. We could have a whole army of Fontes on the peak!”
“Um,” Adrick said, looking a bit gray. “The wind hasn’t blown all day, though. This ship barely made it.”
Alessa’s vision of an army of Fontes vanished in a puff, but the disappointment paled in comparison to her horror at the thought of a ship stranded at sea when the scarabeo came.
“My gift is wind,” Saida said. “Is this my cue to run to the docks?”
And so, with Kaleb weakened, Kamaria injured, and Saida setting off on a desperate rescue mission, Alessa’s newfound team of Fontes dwindled once more.