“Malachi thought he might need to take his soldiers through the tunnels,” Nomi said. “I don’t know what it means that these men are coming in boats.”
“We will hope they are Malachi’s until they attack,” Serina said. “We’ll be ready, either way.” It was a lie to make her sister feel better. There were too many soldiers. If they attacked, the women of Mount Ruin would fall. “But, Nomi, you must prepare yourself… Even if they are Malachi’s men… Malachi might not be our ally anymore.”
Her sister turned. She was still wearing the heavy dark cloak she’d appeared in down on the patio. Here, with the torches lit, Serina could clearly see the blood that stained Nomi’s hands, the bruises that encircled her throat.
“What do you mean?” Nomi asked.
Serina gave a painful shrug. “Just that, if it is him, he has all the power. We’ve nothing to bargain with. We are a ragged force, too small now to be a threat, except perhaps to his legitimacy. He will have to decide what message to send to Viridia, as its ruler. And rebellions must be quashed.”
Nomi shook her head. “Malachi won’t do that, Serina. He…” Her voice petered out. A shadow passed across her face. She didn’t think he would, but Serina could tell she wasn’t sure.
“You… Asa…” Serina paused. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” Nomi replied. “I didn’t—it didn’t happen like I thought.”
Serina kissed Nomi’s forehead. “When I was on Mount Ruin, I tried to imagine what you’d do. How you’d survive in the palazzo. You’ve always been such a fighter, Nomi. You did what needed to be done.”
“I killed him for Mama and Papa,” she said softly. “And for me. For us. I thought that the world would change somehow, magically, once he was gone.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “But an army is massing at our gates, we are still just rebels needing to be silenced, and no amount of murder will bring Mama and Papa back. I was a fool.”
Serina brushed the wet from Nomi’s cheeks with her thumb. Her heart was as broken as her sister’s. “Viridia will change. It has to. They can’t erase us.”
Nomi sniffed and hardened her mouth to keep it from trembling. “Of course they can.”
She turned back toward the balcony, her gaze on the slivers of boats and soldiers visible around the edge of the building. Serina watched them too.
Ines appeared on the balcony. The woman was severe and implacable, just as she’d been when she’d caught Serina holding Nomi’s book. She was clothed in a slim column of black satin. “I’ve ordered food and a medic to tend to the injured. The servants will do as I say.”
Her face betrayed nothing.
“Thank you,” Serina said, fighting the outdated impulse to curtsy. She was no Grace, after all.
Ines’s gaze shifted to Nomi. “I assume the Superior is not in a position to object.”
Nomi swallowed. “No, he is not.”
Serina stationed Val and the strongest of the uninjured girls at the doors to the circular room. They stood guard, their weapons ready. She put Maris and Helena on the balcony, with orders to find her when the last of the soldiers had been ferried to the palazzo.
It was eerie how little urgency the army showed in their approach—they seemed unconcerned with the prospect of being attacked, as if they already knew the forces within were not a proper threat.
Serina ate a bit of bread and slowly sipped a goblet of water. Her stomach churned, but the food steadied her hands. She checked on Anika, who’d been grazed in the side by a bullet. According to the medic, it was a superficial wound. Anika growled at that. “It doesn’t feel superficial.”
The injured women were lying in real beds for the first time since they’d come to Mount Ruin. Even Mirror’s color looked better, now that she was settled into one of the Graces’ bedrooms, with a proper doctor to tend to her wounds.
Ines kept the servants jumping, bringing up food and extra medical supplies for the newcomers. She even ordered several servants to retrieve Asa’s body and place it on a black sheet in the main entry, so there would be no dispute about the Superior’s fate. The approaching soldiers would see their fallen leader immediately upon breaching the palazzo doors.
No one questioned her. Serina thought it had to do with the rigid set of her mouth and the fact that no one else was giving orders within the palazzo. Everyone, servants and Graces included, was waiting to see what the soldiers outside would do.
Serina, Nomi, and a few of the less injured girls bathed hurriedly and put on the clean, dry clothes Ines provided. Wide-legged linen pants and blousy shirts. Not exactly fighting clothes, but better than their torn and bloodstained prison uniforms.
Serina cringed at the way her callused palms caught against the fine fabric. It was strange to be dressed like this again. It felt natural and yet foreign at the same time, like the two sides of herself—the Grace and the warrior—were in constant opposition, both vying for control.
Nomi introduced her to a small tawny-haired girl named Angeline, the handmaiden who’d replaced Serina. The girl looked meek, but the first thing she said to Serina was, “I’ve herded all the Graces into the farthest dining room so they’ll be out of the way if you need to fight.”
She spoke like a soldier giving a report.
Serina nodded, and the girl hurried away.
Nomi finished braiding her wet hair and swung it over her shoulder. “We can try to get them out through the tunnel. I told Angeline about it, in case I didn’t come back… in case Malachi wasn’t able to help them.”
“The passageways. Of course,” Serina said, her mind racing. “Maybe we can all escape, if need be. Unless there are troops hiding in them.”
They both fell silent at the prospect.
Renzo appeared in the doorway, a strange expression on his face. It almost looked… relieved. But Serina couldn’t account for that at all, not with an army at their door.
“Are you well?” she asked, unease coiling within her.
Renzo stepped inside the room, revealing another figure.
Malachi.
Unlike the soldiers in the palazzo, who had been dressed in the household uniform, the Heir was dressed for battle, in armor. He held his helmet under one arm.
“Hello, Nomi. Serina,” he said.
THIRTY-EIGHT
NOMI
“M-MALACHI,” NOMI STUTTERED. Her heart ricocheted against her ribs. She didn’t know whether she wanted to throw her arms around him or run away. Emotions churned so quickly through her mind she couldn’t fix on any of them.
He looked so big and frightening in his battle gear, and his expression didn’t offer any relief. His mouth had turned into a severe frown, his freshly shaven jaw sharp and unforgiving.
“I wish to speak with you privately,” he told her gravely.
She glanced, half-panicked, at Serina, who nodded.
“Of course,” Nomi said. She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking as she led him to her old bedroom. She couldn’t think of anywhere else that would give them privacy.
Ria wasn’t there; all of Asa’s Graces were gathered in a dining room, away from any possible danger. The bedroom was dark and cool. A breeze from the open window drew Nomi’s gaze to the golden line along the horizon. Almost dawn.
Nomi switched on the light. Very carefully, methodically, Malachi placed his helmet on the bed, and then removed his armored gloves, one after the other. Those he placed on the coverlet as well. Finally, he turned to her.
“I went to my father’s rooms first,” he said, the rough slide of his voice sending tiny lightning bolts through Nomi’s chest. “I was afraid I’d find you injured, or dead… but no one was there.”
He cleared his throat.
“I killed him, Malachi,” Nomi said before he went further. Before he was forced to ask. She swallowed back the impulse to apologize. She was sorry for the pain that revelation might cause him, sorry that he might never look at her the same way again, but she couldn’t be
sorry for killing Asa. “His body is in the front entryway. But you came through the tunnel, didn’t you?”
Malachi raised his hand and let his fingers brush, feather-light, across her bruised throat. “He did this.”
She nodded.
Emotions flitted across his face too quickly for her to identify.
“I would have happily carried that burden for you,” he said softly. “He and I… There were things I would have said to him.”
“Are you upset not to have the chance?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m upset that he hurt you. Only that.”
“Those troops… massing at the gates,” she said. She still couldn’t read his face. Was he relieved? Was there more bad news to come? “Are they yours?”
He inclined his head. “As soon as you left, I went back to Porto Rosa. Dante had gotten my message. He was waiting.” He glanced briefly out the window, where the first golden streaks of dawn climbed the sill. “He’d taken his force into hiding.… The orders he received from Asa were ones he couldn’t bring himself to carry out. Rounding up women, punishing anyone who tried to publicly mourn my father… He’d been assessing his options, had even considered attempting a coup maybe. He was happy to hear from me.” A small wry smile touched his mouth and was gone.
He reached out for her, his fingers sliding against hers. But she took a step back, out of reach.
“That’s… that’s good,” she said, her voice cracking. She took a steadying breath, pulling all her courage around her like a shield. “But this is our coup, Malachi. You should honor your concessions, the ones you made back on Mount Ruin. These women didn’t fight for things to stay the same. You made us promises. You should honor them.”
Nomi braced for Malachi’s answer, her heart in her throat. He would prove he was worthy of her trust… her regard for him. Or he would betray her, just like his brother.
“No.”
Nomi looked up at him, her heart crumbling to ash. Serina’s words ripped through her mind.
Rebellions must be quashed.
“I should do more.” Malachi took a small step toward her, but he didn’t reach for her again. “Nomi, I don’t want to be Superior.”
“You—you what?” She couldn’t process what he said. “But all of this—leaving Mount Ruin, finding Dante, killing your brother, it was all about you regaining your birthright. Malachi, you are the Superior.”
He took his own steadying breath. “I know that’s where we started. But it’s not so simple anymore, not for me. I want Viridia to change.”
Nomi stared at him, agape.
“Tell me how to make this country better,” he said. “What should I do? What should we do?”
Her heart clattered in her wounded throat. “What—what do you mean?”
“How can I fix this? Not just the concessions. I mean the very way this country is ruled. Whatever you say, whatever it is, I’ll do it.” She could read no deceit, no trickery in his eyes.
“But how can you change it, if you don’t want to rule?” she asked. “This is your country. You are its rightful leader. You can’t just… That’s—that’s not how things work. Another man will not be better. You can’t believe that.”
He shrugged. “I’m not talking about another Superior, don’t you see? There’s been a coup, like you said. Asa’s been killed. Only my men know I’m here. You and your sister won this fight, Nomi. You decide who rules, and how.”
“Why?” she asked again, her voice scratching in her throat.
“You know why.” The look in his eyes made her ache. Gently, he took her hands. “You won this fight, Nomi. This is your choice.”
Her choice. The future of Viridia was her choice.
Once, she’d wanted the freedom to choose her own future. Now it was her job to choose a whole country’s. It didn’t matter that she thought Malachi had lost his senses. She was not going to refuse this chance.
Nomi didn’t hesitate. “Okay. I know what to do.”
THIRTY-NINE
SERINA
“THEY’RE THE HEIR’S forces, right?” Serina asked, her hands tightening on the railing. She and Val had taken over the corner where Maris and Helena had been keeping watch. “Unless he snuck in through the tunnels.”
Val craned to get a better look. There were troops numbering in the hundreds, maybe a thousand, some lined up along the lawn leading to the palazzo, others still in boats spanning the canal. One of the women from Jungle Camp had snuck through the palazzo to investigate the docks on the ocean side, only to find more troops there. They were surrounded.
“It looks like they’re waiting for orders,” Val replied. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Although, if they’re waiting for Asa to give them…”
Across the canal, the piazza was empty. None of the vendors had appeared with their carts, but Serina saw many faces at the windows of surrounding buildings. People were staying out of the way of the soldiers. They were waiting too.
“If they’re Asa’s, we’ll have to protect the Heir,” she said. “As long as we can.”
Val turned fully toward her and slipped his arms around her. “Until the end,” he agreed.
She leaned against his chest and listened to the beating of his heart. It was so surreal, standing here on this balcony in the palazzo with him. Being here was all she’d wanted as a prospective Grace. But now, as Grace of Mount Ruin, it felt uncomfortable and strange, like a dress she’d outgrown.
“I am happy I am not a Grace,” she murmured. “But I do prefer embroidering fabric to sewing up flesh. That I miss.”
“The fairy tale still calls to you,” he quipped.
With a little laugh, she lifted up on her toes to kiss him. “And the handsome prince.”
He kissed her back, igniting tiny hungry flames in her belly. Her hands wound through his hair.
“If you were in a fairy tale,” he said, “there’d be no time to embroider or gallivant with the prince. You’d be too busy.” His lips nipped at her smile. “A princess leading an army.”
“How about a queen?”
Serina started at the sound of Nomi’s voice and pulled out of Val’s arms.
Her sister stood a few feet away. Her loose black pants and linen shirt hung in an elegant drape from shoulder and hip. Her braid curled over one shoulder. For the first time that Serina could remember, Nomi looked serene. Genuinely at peace, without a hint of fire behind her eyes. She really looked like a Grace.
“What are you talking about?” Serina asked, alarmed. Had killing Asa torn her sister from reality? And where was Malachi?
“The regiment outside is Malachi’s,” Nomi said. “They are men loyal to him, led by his closest friend.”
Some of the tension in Serina’s shoulders eased. But she was still wary. “What are his intentions? I will do whatever I can to protect these women—”
“He knows that.” Nomi glanced over at Val. “Would you give us a few minutes, please? I need to speak with my sister.”
He kissed Serina’s cheek. “I’ll be right inside,” he murmured.
As soon as he was gone, Nomi took Serina’s hands. A strange light shone in her eyes. “Malachi doesn’t want to be Superior, Serina. He has told me to choose who rules. Because… well, we’ve led a coup. He says that means the country is ours.”
Serina opened her mouth. Shut it again. She could think of nothing to say. It was entirely possible she was the one having a break from reality.
Nomi smiled at her, so brightly, all her love shining in her eyes. “Serina, the country is yours.”
Serina started to shake her head, but Nomi continued, inexorable. “You are Viridia’s next warrior queen, just like the first, Queen Vaccaro. You raised an army. You took the palazzo. This is your victory. You will be queen, and you will make this country into what it should be… a place where women aren’t bought and sold. Where they aren’t punished for reading or for using money; where they can earn their own wages. A place with no Graces,
and no Mount Ruin either.”
Serina could see the future written so clearly on Nomi’s face. Her sister was there already, living in a world where women had as many rights and choices as men. That was where her serenity came from.
And it was that moment, that expression on Nomi’s face, that reminded Serina of who Nomi was. What she wanted.
Serina looked her sister in the eye. “Nomi, you’re in love with Malachi.”
Nomi’s beatific smile faded. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Serina pressed. She needed to hear Nomi say it. She couldn’t do this—she couldn’t suggest what she wanted to suggest—unless she was sure.
“Even if I was, it doesn’t matter,” Nomi replied, emotions warring on her face. “This is about all the women of Viridia.”
“But you can be his queen,” Serina said, reaching for her sister’s hands.
Nomi’s brows rose. Shock slackened her jaw. “What? No. This is your victory, Serina. You should be queen.”
“I don’t want to be queen,” Serina said gently, and felt the truth of the words in her bones. “What I want—what I’ve always wanted—is to protect you. And I will.”
Mount Ruin had made her into a warrior, not a queen. Her place was by Nomi’s side, keeping her safe. Serina had always cared more about protecting Nomi than anything else. That would never change.
“You and Malachi should rule together, as equal partners,” she went on, her eyes never leaving Nomi’s. She could see her version of the future unfurl in her mind, but it didn’t have the same impossible, fantastical sheen as Nomi’s. Serina had always been the pragmatic one. “It will help the country transition. The magistrates will be mollified by Malachi’s role, and you’ll be able to do everything you can to make this country what it should be. You will show the men of Viridia that women deserve to be equal, and you’ll show the women all the new possibilities opening to them.”
Nomi looked at Serina as if she were speaking another language.
Queen of Ruin (Grace and Fury) Page 24
