Queen of Ruin (Grace and Fury)

by Tracy Banghart

  Mirror’s face was pale beneath her blanket of freckles. Fear had tensed her muscles, made her jerky and awkward. She didn’t have time to answer before Serina saw it.

  Flames climbing to the sky. A crackle and whoosh, like a million birds flooding the air.

  Fire. A wall of it, a wave, roaring down through the forest toward Hotel Misery.

  SIXTEEN

  NOMI

  THE HIRED CARRIAGE bumped bruisingly along the rough country road. Nomi’s palms sweat through the fabric of her dress as she gripped her thighs to keep them from jiggling impatiently. An elderly woman with a large basket sat beside her, squishing her into the side of the carriage. On the woman’s other side sat her middle-aged daughter, who constantly jostled for more space. Nomi barely had room to breathe. Across from them, Malachi and the old woman’s husband sat, their knees spread comfortably. Malachi had a straw hat tipped low over his eyes and pretended to nap, discouraging the other gentleman from speaking to him. No one tried to speak to Nomi.

  She kept her chin down. She stared at the woman’s basket until she’d examined every thread of the red-gold-and-green towel that hid what smelled like fresh bread. She ignored the ache of her empty stomach.

  She’d wanted to take the train directly to Lanos City, but Malachi had suggested they conserve their limited funds and travel by public coach. They’d counted on the resources and protection of Dante and his garrison for the trek to Bellaqua; now they had little but the clothes on their backs, a few coins, and one misshapen loaf of bread, left from the trade with the men on the boat. Nomi wasn’t sure whether she should stay with her family in Lanos, push them to escape to Azura with her, or travel to Bellaqua with Malachi. Much would depend on whether her parents had heard from Renzo and knew where he was.

  The rest depended on her courage.

  The carriage moved as slowly as a pour of molasses. It stopped often. The family disembarked, and two big, loud, smoke-soaked men stepped on. Then another family, with two small sons. After the stop at Vesta, for a brief time the carriage was empty save for Nomi and Malachi.

  She relaxed enough to catch her breath, but it was almost dark and they still had another two hours to Lanos City. Two hours to wonder and worry. Maybe Malachi really was sleeping. He didn’t tip his hat back or try to speak to her.

  So her mind filled the silence, reliving every minute that had passed since she’d told Renzo to run. She tried to imagine what he’d done with the time, while she was chained to a prison ship and nursing Malachi to health and traveling up the coast. Had her brother actually run? Had Asa sent men to track him down?

  What if Renzo had been captured that same night? What if all this time she’d been hoping, the worst had already happened? If Renzo were dead, would she feel it deep in her bones, their connection as twins spanning the distance? Was that what she felt now, in the sinking in her stomach, the aching and pervasive dread?

  “You look distressed,” Malachi said.

  She started. He was sitting up, the straw hat abandoned on the seat beside him.

  Nomi glanced out the warped glass of the window. “I was wondering what I’ll do if Asa’s already found Renzo. How I’ll feel if we’re already too late.” Tears built behind her eyes. “I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much now, when we’re so close to the truth.”

  “Maybe that is why,” he said. “When you don’t know, there’s always hope.”

  Nomi dropped her head to her hands. She wasn’t ready to give up hope, and yet not knowing tore her to shreds. Maybe they should have stayed in Porto Rosa. What were the odds Renzo had actually sent her parents a message?

  When Nomi returned to the home she’d never expected to see again, how many heartbeats would it take for her to break down and run into her mother’s arms?

  She wondered what her parents would say when they saw her. When she’d left Lanos, she’d been Serina’s frumpy, forgettable handmaiden. Her hands had been red and cracked from the endless washing up, her hair in disarray. She’d held her secret—that she could read—like a flame in her heart, a candle she kept burning where they couldn’t see. What had they thought when she’d been chosen instead of Serina? They would have been shocked, of course. Would they have wondered why?

  The carriage rumbled into what felt like a giant pothole and wobbled, throwing Nomi against its musty fabric-lined walls. Outside, the driver shouted something at his horse. With a shriek, the carriage strained forward, only to list to the side, an ominous crack sounding below.

  Malachi’s cheeks flushed. “The imbecile’s broken his wheel,” he muttered as he wrenched open the door and dropped to the ground.

  Nomi listened to the raised voices and angry retorts of the men and wished she could add her own. She wanted to fill up the whole dome of air above, the whole world, with her scream.

  Malachi popped his head into the carriage a few minutes later. “There’s an inn a fifteen-minute walk away. We can stay there tonight; the driver says another hired carriage to Lanos will come through at daybreak.”

  “Daybreak?” Nomi echoed in dismay. “We can’t wait that long.”

  He shrugged helplessly. “I wish we didn’t have to. But I’ve only enough money for a room and the public carriage fare back to Porto Rosa. It’s not enough for the train or a private carriage.” He made a disgusted noise. “I’m sorry, Nomi.”

  With a frustrated sigh, Nomi let him help her to the ground.

  The driver was untying his horse, probably getting ready to ride for help with his wheel. Nomi kept her head down as she followed Malachi. She wanted to steal the man’s horse and head for Lanos City as fast as she could. But she breathed deep, angry breaths and kept walking.

  They didn’t talk. Nomi’s ill-fitting boots rubbed blisters into her heels. The air held a chill she hadn’t felt since leaving Lanos, and the trees that lined the road had begun showing their fall brilliance. In the distance, the mountains rose like rotting teeth.

  They were so close. The delay held her hostage, twisted her stomach and her heart into knots. She tried to remind herself that going to Lanos had not been the plan as of this morning, but it didn’t matter. Now that it was, the distance between her and her family was excruciating.

  The inn took them longer than fifteen minutes to reach. Nomi would have expressed her anger, except that Malachi’s grumbles and glares did the job nicely and her jaw had clenched itself so tightly her head ached.

  “We’ll have to share a room, pretend to be married,” Malachi muttered, staring up at the inn’s bright red door. “It wouldn’t be safe otherwise.”

  Nomi might have felt nervous at the prospect, if he didn’t look so vastly irritated about it himself.

  Malachi left her just inside the door in the warmth of the barroom while he went to speak to the proprietor. Only a couple of men frequented the small smoky room, and they turned immediately to stare at her. This wasn’t the sort of place where women were welcome; that was clear enough.

  “… don’t go out, now that it’s dark,” a short, balding man said, crossing the room with Malachi in tow. He noticed Nomi by the door and frowned.

  He handed Malachi a key and gestured toward the stairs. “Up one floor, second door on your left. Come on down when you’re ready and I’ll have dinner for you. Might want to bring something upstairs for the wife. As I said, keep her out of sight.”

  Nomi played her part and followed Malachi upstairs, her head tipped demurely. But unease wound through her. It was true that unmarried daughters in the company of their families often ate out of sight when traveling—when she had traveled to Bellaqua on the train with Renzo and Serina, they’d eaten together in their sleep carriage and hotel room, never in the public restaurants—but a married woman? Married women always ate with their husbands. It was their duty to serve their husbands, even in public. Especially in public.

  She waited until they were inside the bedroom, door closed, before she voiced her concern. “What was the innkeeper saying? Why am I s
upposed to stay out of sight?”

  Malachi frowned. “He said the soldiers have been taking girls, but I’m not sure what he meant.… It was very strange. I’ll see if I can find out more.”

  “Oh no,” Nomi said, straightening her travel-mussed hair. “I’m coming with you. We will eat supper together like a proper husband and wife. I want to know what’s going on.”

  Malachi clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “I don’t know, Nomi. The proprietor seemed concerned for your safety. If it’s dangerous—”

  She grabbed his arm and steered him to the door. “How could it be dangerous? It’s just supper. Let’s go.”

  They headed back downstairs, avoiding the barroom for a small back parlor with tables and a roaring fire. Two men sat at a table near the small dirty window; an older woman with gray-streaked hair and a wrinkled dried-apple face set out two large plates of pasta before them. She looked up when Nomi and Malachi entered, her lips pursing.

  Malachi chose a table near the fire. Nomi was grateful; her dress was too thin to keep her warm in the chilly evening air.

  The woman shuffled to their table. “Did Sir not speak with you?” she asked, glancing worriedly at Nomi.

  “Supper for two, please,” Malachi requested firmly.

  The servant bowed her head and disappeared through a side door.

  Nomi stared at the knotted wood of the table. The men in the corner murmured quietly; she couldn’t catch what they said.

  Malachi drummed his fingers on the table. After a while, he stood and warmed himself by the fire. The woman returned, her hands empty, a new urgency in her movements. She scurried over to Nomi, just as a burst of laughter exploded in the hallway.

  “Please, please,” the woman said, picking at Nomi’s shoulder. “Please go upstairs. Soldiers are here. Please go upstairs.”

  The voices outside got louder. Coarser.

  “Why?” Nomi whispered, suddenly frightened. “What’s happening?”

  The woman urged her to stand. Malachi made his way back to them, annoyance washing across his face.

  “The new Superior’s collecting Graces,” the woman said, so fast and quiet the words slurred together. “His soldiers pick up whatever pretty girls they see. Don’t matter if they’re too young, married, don’t matter. They take them to the palazzo. If the Superior doesn’t approve, they’re sent home, but if he likes you…” Her mouth puckered in sorrow. “Please go.” She pointed to a door. “Back staircase.”

  Eyes wide, Nomi motioned to Malachi to stay and let the servant sweep her up the stairs. Once alone in the bedroom, Nomi paced. She could hear the raucous laughter and occasional shout of the soldiers, the thudding boots and banging doors. She suspected her room was above the stables, because the sounds of horses whinnying and stomping filtered up to her as well.

  She glanced out the small window. Lit the lamp on the bedside table. Tried not to think of what the woman had said.

  Asa is collecting his own Graces.

  Snatching women off the streets. Unwilling women.

  Nomi shook her head, wishing this were a nightmare she could wake from. It was even worse than she’d feared. How many girls—and how many of their mothers and brothers and fathers and sisters—would despise her if they knew she was the reason for all of this? She was the reason Asa had come into power?

  The doorknob rattled. She jumped.

  But it was Malachi, returning with a tray of food.

  He placed the tray on the small table in the corner, and they fell on their portions with urgency, even though the meat was tough, the noodles soft, and the sauce too salty.

  “It’s true,” he said, sitting back and wiping his mouth. “Asa has ordered his soldiers to bring pretty girls to the palace. He’s taking his own Graces, as many as he wants. He isn’t going through the magistrates, and they’re angry.”

  The food curdled in Nomi’s stomach. “What about your father’s Graces? And Cassia?”

  Malachi bent forward, staring at his empty bowl. “No one seems to know what happened to them.”

  Nomi pushed the tray of food away, her appetite gone. What had happened to her handmaiden, Angeline? Was she still in the palazzo, helping one of these new Graces? What about Rosario? Ines?

  Malachi grabbed the roll from the edge of her plate and stuffed it into their bag. He poured the jug of water into one of their flagons, and then set the dirty dishes outside their door.

  Outside, the sun had disappeared, ushering in the dark. Inside, the lamplight flickered golden on his skin.

  “The public carriage will be here at daybreak,” Malachi said. “We should try to sleep.”

  Nomi excused herself to use the washroom at the end of the hall, hurrying back when she heard male voices eddying up the stairs.

  When she returned to the room, she took off her boots and pointed her toes, stretching her tired calves. She paused beside the bed. Wrought-iron frame, pushed up against one wall. Suddenly, she had flashbacks to Malachi’s chambers in the palazzo, to that big white bed. She blushed.

  As if reading her mind, Malachi said, “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor by the door.” He bent to examine its lock. She stared at his back.

  “You don’t have to,” she said softly, her heart hammering in her throat.

  He turned around, his eyes a question.

  “I just… I just mean the bed is big enough for us both.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry as sand, and a rash of red heated her cheeks. “You’re still injured and we both need sleep.”

  He took a step closer, and Nomi fought the sudden, strange impulse to run her hands up his arms. Quickly, she turned away. “It’s fine. Whatever you think is safest. I—I’m very tired. Good night.”

  She scrambled under the sheet and curled into herself, closing her eyes tightly.

  A few moments later, the glow of lamplight disappeared, dousing her in darkness. Another pause. Despite herself, she craned to hear. Was he lying on the floor? Was he standing over her?

  The bed creaked, the hard mattress giving. The sheets whispered as Malachi stretched out. He sighed. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Compared to a ship’s deck and a cracked marble floor, this bed is a dream.”

  Nomi didn’t reply. He didn’t touch her, but every nerve in her back was alert, waiting, straining through the darkness.

  “You’re safe with me,” Malachi said, as softly as breathing. “You know that, right?”

  For a long moment, Nomi didn’t speak or move.

  Then, slowly, she unfurled.

  Her legs welcomed the stretch. Inch by awkward inch, she forced her body to relax. There was still space between them, a space he didn’t attempt to breach. Neither did she.

  He said, haltingly, “I want you to know… I never would have forced you. Grace or no Grace, I never would have, Nomi. And I never will.”

  Nomi thought of all the moments they’d shared at the palazzo—in the ocean, in his chambers, on the dance floor. How he’d never crossed the line. Even the night they’d kissed, in the center of the thunderstorm, she’d been surprised but… but eager, though she hadn’t admitted it to herself.

  “I believe you,” she replied.

  Nomi thought of Asa’s girls, taken from their homes, taken to the palazzo, without their parents’ consent. Without their consent.

  “But…” His voice trailed off. The air thickened between them. She couldn’t feel his skin against her own and yet the knowledge that his arm was there, inches from hers, made her dizzy. “But I still feel the same as I did the night of my birthday. I still wish—I wish we could be…” He trailed off again.

  He still cared for her.

  It wasn’t a surprise, and yet it was. Nomi’s pulse raced. She couldn’t speak.

  “Do you trust me?” Malachi asked when her silence filled the room. “Do you… do you want to be with me?”

  Nomi took a few moments to answer. These were not simple questions. “I’m not sure it mat
ters,” she said at last. “When you stop Asa, you will be the Superior. You will have Graces.” She let out a breath. Maybe, in a different life, a different world, her answer might have been different. “I can’t be your Grace, Malachi. Not now.”

  “It wouldn’t work anyway,” he said, the ghost of a smile curling through his voice. “You’ve learned how to argue with me. You’d teach the other Graces to stand up for themselves, and there’d be a mutiny.”

  “I hope they stand up to Asa,” Nomi blurted. She was worried for these women, these strangers. Now it seemed so inconceivable that she’d trusted Asa. That she’d believed him when he’d spouted all the things she’d wanted to hear. How strange that he’d poisoned her view of Malachi using the very qualities and dishonesty he himself possessed.

  “I was so stupid,” she whispered.

  Nomi had almost drifted into sleep, when Malachi’s voice spiraled into the darkness. “When I was eight or nine, Father gave me a carved statue of a horse. I loved it. It was so delicate… the legs were so thin they were practically matchsticks. It had a mane, eternally frozen in wild tangles. The carving was exquisite, as beautiful as anything I’d ever seen.” He shifted, turning toward her. Nomi shifted too, because in the dark it was easier to be brave, and faced him. They lay, breath mingling, not quite close enough.

  “One day, I was playing with my little horse, galloping it down the walls of the hallway near my room. Asa found me and wanted to play with it. I told him I didn’t want to share, but he didn’t listen. Eventually, we fought over the toy, and two of the horse’s legs snapped clean off.”

  Nomi drew in a sigh. She could see little Malachi in her mind, so devastated at losing his favorite toy.

  “Father wouldn’t get me a new one. He said I had to learn to be more careful with my things.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault,” Nomi responded, feeling a pang in her belly. “It was Asa’s.”

  “It didn’t matter to Father,” Malachi said.

  “Your brother was rotten,” Nomi said.

  “My brother spent every waking moment he had over the next six months to learn to carve and make me a replacement,” Malachi responded. “It was terrible, Nomi. Thick crooked legs, a chunky block for a tail, a misshapen head. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. But all those hours and weeks and months Asa put into making it, just for me… I treasured it. Until I discovered the effort was for Father’s benefit. He was so impressed at Asa’s commitment, he gave him a real horse.”