In bocca al lupo/ Crepi il lupo.
Into the wolf’s mouth/May the wolf die.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 1
“Padre, you shouldn’t go near that creature.” Nina sniffed, thrusting her chin in the air. “Oh, hello, Josef. Funny seeing you here. Still running errands for the Finestra?”
“Duty called,” Josef said, looking proud as a peacock. “And I answered.”
“I bet it did.” Nina looked up at the ceiling, blinking as if trying not to cry. “I knew you’d run back to her. She’s clearly captivated you with her beauty and benevolence. How could a mere mortal ever compete?”
Josef puffed himself up even more. “We’re facing the end of the world, Nina. The future of every life on Saverio is more important than your silly feelings.”
Nina’s mouth fell open. “Silly feelings?”
“Oh, good grief,” Kamaria muttered from somewhere in the crowd, and every lantern sputtered out.
Nina let out an ear-splitting shriek, then it was nothing but scuffling, yelling, and Kaleb whispering in Alessa’s ear, “This is going smashingly, isn’t it?”
Alessa pulled an ungloved hand from her pocket. A small hand grasped it, and her stomach lurched.
Shouts of dismay echoed through the crypt, calling for someone to re-light the lanterns, but every match struck flared out immediately.
The hand was gone, and silk brushed her arm.
“Doesn’t anyone have a light?” Alessa said.
A flame burst to life, so bright she had to shield her eyes.
Kamaria, cap pulled down to shade her face, swaggered over, holding out a lantern. “Here, miss,” she said, her voice pitched low. “Mine seems to be working.”
Ivini snatched the lantern before Alessa could.
Ignoring a flurry of indignant gasps, he hurried to the metal gate of Dante’s prison, banging the lantern against the bars in his haste. The same still form lay curled in the back.
Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Ivini lowered the light to study the heavy padlock, intact and untouched.
“Excuse me,” Alessa said.
Grumbling under his breath, Ivini handed it over.
Alessa tugged her companion toward the corridor, where a suspicious number of lanterns had gone out. The hooded cloak shadowed his face, but not enough to disguise the bruises at such a close distance. “What did they do to you? I thought they didn’t have a key.”
Dante spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t need a key when you can throw rocks.”
Rage burned through her veins, but it had to wait. She’d planned for a quick march through the crowded levels with an alert Dante playing along. Instead, his arm grew heavier around her shoulders, his steps halting, and as they made painstaking progress toward the more crowded levels, every face turning to watch sent a surge of fear through her.
She cast a desperate look over her shoulder at Kamaria and Josef, who were hanging back and trying to blend in with the hundreds of other Saverians milling about.
People would panic if they raced to prop up “Kaleb,” but it would be worse if he fell. Even worse if everyone realized it wasn’t Kaleb at all.
Eventually, they reached the main corridor, and she could make out the Cittadella gate.
“Almost there,” she whispered. “Only a little farther.”
Two figures stepped into their path. Of all the moments.
“Finestra,” her mother said, her hand white-knuckled on Papa’s arm. “I’d appreciate a second of your time.”
Alessa braced her feet to keep Dante upright. “We’re in a bit of a hurry, I’m afraid.”
“Please.” Her voice faltered. “Your brother told us what he did.”
“I don’t have a brother,” Alessa said, her tone flat. “Or a family.” And it still hurt as badly as it had the day she’d left.
“I know you’re angry at me, but I was trying to do as I was told. As the gods wanted me to. Adrick—” She raised a hand to her mouth.
“He should have protected you.” Her father tugged at his short beard. “Not done … what he did.”
Dante stumbled, catching himself as though he’d almost passed out, and it sent a bolt of panic through Alessa. “I’m glad you object to your son trying to kill the Finestra, but I really must go.”
“We object to our son trying to hurt his sister.” Her mother tugged at a lock of gray-threaded hair come loose from her bun. “I was raised to believe it was my duty to forsake my child if he or she was chosen. But I had a duty to you as well. I knew—” She waved a hand. “I knew he visited, and I never asked. I was afraid of what I’d hear. And now…” She pressed a hand to her mouth, her breath hissing. “I should have asked. I should have come.”
“Did the ghiotte—did he harm you?” Papa asked.
“No,” Alessa said. She didn’t know if Dante was fully aware of her words, but she said them for him, too. “He protected me. Always.”
“When I think of how lonely you must have been to welcome him into your confidence—”
Adrick jogged up, alarm written across his face as he took in the family reunion. “I already apologized, Papa. Let her go. She’s got important stuff to do.”
Alessa shot Adrick a desperate look, her knees buckling under Dante’s weight.
“At least take these.” Her mother held out a bundle of envelopes bound with string.
“Okay, Mama, let them go.” Adrick took the parcel and bent to wedge it into the pocket of Dante’s cloak, blanching as he peeked beneath the hood.
Mama’s brow furrowed as Dante’s bowed head lolled forward.
They needed to get him inside. Now.
“Mama, Papa,” Alessa whispered, holding them with her gaze. “If you’ve ever believed me about anything, trust me on this. He’s Dea’s child, as much as you or I. Probably more. I know what the Verità says, but—”
“If you say it, we believe you,” Mama said.
Desperate relief flooded Alessa’s body. “Then help me.”
They might not have fully understood, but her parents weren’t fools.
“May I pray with you, Finestra?” her mother asked loudly. “My husband and son would like to pray with our good Fonte.”
Papa threw his beefy arms wide, and Alessa shoved Dante at him. A Finestra couldn’t touch anyone but their Fonte, but a Fonte wasn’t limited the same way.
With a jovial grin, Papa dragged Dante’s arm around his shoulders, while Adrick gave his arm a hearty squeeze, and together, they walked him toward the gate.
Josef and Kamaria slipped past, while Alessa pretended to listen to her mother’s rambling prayer.
When they were nearly to the gate, Mama’s prayer trailed off. Her eyes welled with tears. “Be safe, my sweet girl.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alessa hurried to catch up with Papa and Dante.
At the gate to the Cittadella, her father clapped Dante on the back, practically knocking him into Josef.
Kamaria’s gift again made every lantern in the corridor sputter out, drawing scattered screams from every direction as they tumbled inside. Adrick and Josef shared the load of getting Dante up the stairs, every step seeming higher than the last, until they reached the main floor and Adrick had to turn back. Alessa took over, and together they minced across the courtyard, their odd clothing and stilted movements drawing a confused stare from a passing guard.
Alessa grinned widely. “Too many toasts, but a little espresso will sort him right out!”
The guard shrugged.
Upstairs, Kamaria hobbled around, fetching soap and juice while Josef steadied Dante so Alessa could help him out of his filthy clothes.
Alessa looked up from trying to wrench off Dante’s shoes at a gasp from the doorway.
“I wasn’t looking, Josef, I wasn’t looking!” Nina covered her eyes.
Josef sighed and shook his head.
“Did I do all right?” Nina wiggled with pride. “I know my acting was a bit over the top, but I had to commit, or it would never be convincing. Josef, you were so dashing! The bars bent back in place beautifully, and I think the scream really helped.”
“It did,” Alessa said. “Thank you.”
Nina’s lip trembled. “Least I could do. I’m really—”
“You can apologize after the battle, okay?”
Tears glittered on Nina’s coppery lashes. “Or during?”
Alessa smiled. “Sure. We’re bound to have a few breaks, right?”
Kamaria deposited a tray of steaming bowls and mugs on the table, and swiped the pile of Dante’s filthy, torn clothing from the floor. “I’ll toss these.”
Alessa didn’t even bother taking off her own clothes when she and Josef got Dante down to the salt baths, wading into the water fully dressed. “I’ll yell if I need you.”
Josef nodded. “I’ll bring down the broth.”
One arm around his chest, Alessa cradled Dante in the water, using her other hand to wet his hair and stroke it back from his face.
Her heart tightened at the memory of when she was the injured one soaking while Dante lounged on the stairs, scoffing at her theories about ghiotte. She couldn’t remember what she’d said, but her words must have stung, adding another layer of cuts on top of a lifetime of scars. How many times had Dante bit his tongue while people like her discussed how evil he was, how selfish and horrible his parents had been?
She’d spent years wondering if there was something wrong with her, if she was a mistake, a flaw in the divine tapestry of the world, and it had nearly killed her. He’d lived with it his entire life.
Despite a lifetime of misery, Dante had helped a little girl in an alley being bullied by someone stronger and more powerful. He’d chosen to say yes when a scared young woman asked for help.
He’d stayed when he could’ve left, loved when he could have hated, and he’d let himself be locked up to protect people who had no qualms about making him suffer.
They didn’t deserve him.
Josef tiptoed into the bathing room with the tray, nudging it close to the edge so Alessa could reach.
Dante’s eyes were closed, but he drifted in and out of consciousness, occasionally wincing as she dabbed his wounds with a wet cloth.
“Don’t bother. I’ll heal soon enough,” he said.
She reached for a spoon, determined to get some sustenance into him so his powers could work unhindered. “Will you let me take care of you, for once?”
“No one takes care of me,” he slurred.
Tears pricked her eyes. “I do. Now shush.”
The broth, or his powers, revived him enough for a smile to curl his lips. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss injuries to make them better?”
She pressed a kiss to his temple.
“That doesn’t count.”
“If I kiss you like I want to,” she scolded, “you’d drop dead from exertion. Heal yourself, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
His eyes opened. “When is Divorando?”
“Not for another day. Don’t worry about it right now. You need to rest.”
Josef must have been waiting with his ears cocked at the top of the stairs, because he clattered down the moment she called for help. Together, they hauled Dante from the water, wrapped him in towels, and maneuvered him up the stairs.
Josef was adorably mortified about tucking a sleeping ghiotte into his Finestra’s bed.
“Go and be with Nina. She did great.”
Josef beamed at her. “She did, didn’t she? She really is very sorry—”
Alessa stopped him with a hand. “We’ve all made mistakes. She was scared and trying to protect someone she loved. I’ve had enough revenge fantasies tonight to understand that. Besides, I’m going to need all of you on the peak.”
Josef bowed low. “It will be my honor, Finestra.”
Alessa laughed. “After tonight, don’t you think you can bring yourself to use my name?”
“It would be an honor, Miss Paladino.”
She nudged his shoulder. “Good enough for now. We’ll work on it.”
When Josef was gone, she crawled into bed beside Dante.
He groaned and opened one eye. “I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit.”
He wheezed a laugh. “Aw, luce mia. You do know how to make a man’s heart flutter.” He groaned. “Is this what it feels like to die? Should I tell you my name now?”
“You’re not dying. You’re malnourished and not healing at your usual rate. But you can tell me your name.”
“Ha,” he said with a wince. “Nice try. If I’m not dying, you don’t get it until after you save the world.”
“Well, you’re too feeble to run away, so I’ll get it out of you eventually. Now, sleep.”
At some point, his breathing settled, and with it, her last reserves of energy abandoned her.
She clung to him through the night, legs threaded with his, face pressed to his shoulder, counting the hours in the metronome of his heartbeat.
She woke to Dante’s sleep-roughened voice. “Aren’t you supposed to spend this time in worship?”
Alessa threw the covers back, sighing in relief at his lack of bruises. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
He made a low sound of approval as she ran a hand down his chest. “Gotta remember what you’re fighting for, eh? Didn’t you say you’d kiss all my injuries?”
“You had a lot of injuries, but I’ll do my best.”
When hunger finally drove them from bed, Alessa and Dante raided the stash of food left by the kitchen staff before they’d retreated to the safety of the Fortezza. The morning slid by in a flurry of kissing, strategizing, eating—Dante insisted they “fuel for battle,” which apparently meant snacking every hour—and the occasional stretch of stillness when the full impact of what they were about to face knocked the breath from Alessa. In those moments, Dante seemed to sense the shift in her mood before she did, and he’d pull her onto his lap to quiet her fluttering fingers with a squeeze of his hands, holding her until it passed.
During one bout of nervous shivers, he pulled a cloak from the back of the couch and draped it over them.
“What’s this?” He pulled out a bundle of papers, and she took it, untying the string in silence.
“Letters,” she said. “From my mother.” She flipped through the stack, noting the dates written on the top of each, but not reading any further.
“You going to read them?”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed just knowing she wrote them at all.”
Dante gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll give you a minute to think about it.”
He left to take a shower, and she dared to open the first letter, dated on her fourteenth birthday, weeks after she’d left home for the Cittadella.
My dear girl,
I know I’m not supposed to, but I can’t help missing you more than words can say. They held a parade for you today. Adrick says you looked beautiful, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. How could I, when it would break my heart even more to see you and have to pretend you aren’t my daughter?
“Knock, knock. Had enough prayer yet?”
Alessa scrubbed her face of tears and tucked the letter into Dante’s book of proverbs, holding it close as she went to open the door.
“Everyone dressed and decent after all that praying?” Kamaria peeked through a gap in her fingers. “Can’t have my virgin eyes sullied on the eve of battle.”
Nina blushed, and Josef looked scandalized.
“We didn’t want to interrupt your prayer—” Nina shot Kamaria a scolding look for her snorted laugh. “But we wanted to check on Dante, and the sun is setting, so the day of prayer is technically over. Besides, we have nothing to do but rest, and it’s too early to sleep.”
“We could spend some more time worrying,” Kamaria said. “That’s still on my to-do list.”
There was another knock on the door.
“Dea help us,” Alessa said. “It’s the day before the apocalypse, and we’re throwing a party.”
Adrick stood outside, looking sheepish.
“What are you doing here?” Alessa demanded. “You’re supposed to be inside the Fortezza.”
“I knew you’d fuss, so I hid until the gates were locked. Too late now! I’m going to fight with the militia and help tend the wounded. Warrior medic, at your service.”
Alessa sagged against the doorframe. “Now you decide to be heroic? I swear, you’ll be the death of me.”
Adrick smiled hesitantly. “At least this time it’s not intentional?”
She sighed. “Come in, then. We have enough food to serve the whole army, but nothing’s hot, and the beverage selection is lacking, unless you’re a fan of room temperature limoncello.”
Adrick rubbed his hands together. “My favorite.”
“I believe some of you have met my brother.” Adrick’s assistance with their heist hadn’t been enough to outweigh his past offenses, but it appeared they’d tolerate him.
Dante strolled out, half dressed, as she finished the tense introductions. Adrick startled, visibly astonished at the sight of Dante glowing with health, in stark contrast to the broken wretch they’d smuggled out of the crypt the night before.
“Oh, hey. Gang’s all here,” Dante said, bicep flexing as he dragged a hand through his damp hair.
Adrick made a soft noise of approval and elbowed Alessa, which she pointedly ignored.
“They came to check on you,” she said. “And my jackass brother decided to become a medic at the eleventh hour, so we’re stuck with him, too. I’m kicking them out after we eat, because everyone needs a good night’s sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kamaria said, waving her off. “Any last minute instructions? Pep talks? Battle cries?”
“Yes,” Josef said. “We need a team motto.”
Dante eyed the book of proverbs in Alessa’s hands. “In bocca al lupo. In the mouth of the wolf. It means ‘good luck.’”
“The wolf’s mouth?” Kamaria said. “I don’t get it.”
“Some say it means to face danger—the wolf—and hope for victory. Others think it refers to how a mother wolf carries her babies, safe from harm despite her sharp teeth. The correct response is, ‘Crepi il lupo’ or ‘Crepi.’ May the wolf die.”
Alessa flinched.
“It’s just an expression,” Dante said to her alone.
“I like it,” said Josef. “In bocca al lupo!”
“Crepi!” Kamaria shouted back, fist raised, but it sounded more like crappy, and everyone laughed, except for Dante, and it seemed to cost him immense effort not to.
“When this battle is over, I’m giving you all pronunciation lessons.”
“All right,” Alessa said. “Now that we have our rallying cry, dig in.”
“Eat, drink, and be merry.” Nina passed a basket of fresh bread to Josef.
Kamaria raised her baguette like a flute of prosecco. “For tomorrow, we may die.”