Grace and Fury

by Tracy Banghart

  She curtsied again, unable to contain her smile. “Thank you for the dance, Your Eminence.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he replied. Then he wove through the other dancers and disappeared from view.

  As Serina returned to her spot on the terrace, she ran through every sentence, every touch, analyzing her performance. He’d seemed engaged. He’d held her close. She’d kept to the flattering light. For the first time in a week, since they’d begun the long journey from Lanos, Serina felt her shoulders relax. She’d done her job. Done it well, even. Maybe he would choose her.

  And if he did?

  A slow smile bloomed across her face. He was just as handsome as she’d imagined.

  A murmur ran through the ballroom, pulling her from her thoughts. She scoured the dance floor with her gaze, searching for the Heir. But it was all dignitaries and Graces, no sight of his white jacket anywhere. A few of the prospective Graces were glaring at her.

  The realization shot through her like the last rays of the sun: Prince Malachi had left for the evening, and she was the only one he’d asked to dance.

  As the prospects returned to the waiting area, Serina barely had a moment to catch her breath before Nomi was upon her. She grabbed Serina’s arm and dragged her to a corner half-hidden by a massive plant in a painted urn. She looked anxious, and a little bit ill.

  Serina squeezed both of her hands, hoping to calm her. “It’s okay,” she said breathlessly. “It went well—even better than I’d hoped. We have nothing to worry about.”

  Nomi looked pained rather than relieved, but before Serina had a chance to ask what was wrong, Ines entered the room and a hush spread over everyone. “My flowers,” she began. “The Heir was greatly pleased to have met all of you. Your unparalleled beauty and poise made his choice very difficult, but after a consultation with the magistrates from your provinces and much consideration, he has made his decision.

  “Once I’ve announced those chosen, I’ll show them to their quarters. The rest of you will remain here while we arrange for your transportation back to Bellaqua’s central piazza, where your families are waiting. Those of you staying with us, your families will be notified of your good fortune. And you may, of course, send a message to them as soon as you wish through the palazzo’s scribes.”

  Serina squeezed her sister’s hand. The time had come. Her old life was ending, and her new one was about to begin. The other girls shifted and whispered to their handmaidens. Serina’s pulse fluttered in her throat.

  “Maris Azaria, the Heir has chosen you.”

  Serina searched the crowd of girls, but it wasn’t hard to find Maris—she burst into tears, hugging her arms close to her sparkling pink dress. Her straight, waist-length black hair flowed forward to curtain her face. Whether they were tears of joy, Serina couldn’t tell.

  “Two more,” she whispered to Nomi. Two more chances.

  Ines waited until the room settled. “Cassia Runetti, you have been chosen.” She nodded to a girl near the dais.

  It was the girl who’d spoken to Serina. Cassia’s delicate jaw went slack, her eyes widened, and then she laughed out loud, her silver-blond hair rippling. Serina could tell that her dress was of very fine quality, as were her precariously high heels. She was probably from one of the wealthy eastern cities, like Sola or Golden Isle.

  The other girls shifted and whispered to their handmaidens. Only one name left. When Ines cleared her throat, Serina held her breath.

  “The Heir’s final Grace will be… Nomi Tessaro.”

  A weight lifted from Serina’s shoulders in a great rush. I did it! The thought filled her with relief and joy. But, she realized, they’d made a mistake. She smiled at Ines. “It’s Serina Tessaro, actually.”

  The older woman shook her head. “No, my flower. You were not chosen,” she said, her words dropping into the wondering quiet of the room. Every gaze turned toward Nomi.

  Serina’s vision went spotty; she was holding her breath again. Ines stared straight at her as she said, “Your handmaiden was. Your sister. Nomi Tessaro.”

  The room erupted with voices raised in confusion and anger.

  Serina stared at Ines, then her sister, her heart beating a frantic rhythm. Nomi’s eyes were wild, and her hair was escaping its long braid. Her simple brown dress was hiked awkwardly up on one hip, making the hem uneven. Even here, dressed in her nicest clothes, Nomi looked as untamable as ever. A girl who hated everything about the Graces and what they represented—and now she was one of them.

  FOUR

  NOMI

  NOMI SWAYED, UNABLE to breathe. This was a mistake. How could this possibly not be a mistake?

  All around her, people were moving. Some prospects had started to cry. Others were glaring at her. Ines headed for the door, followed by the other newly chosen Graces and their handmaidens.

  Ines turned back to give her an impatient look. Woodenly, Nomi bent to pick up her bag. Serina grabbed it out of her hand.

  “But I—”

  “Nomi, you’re a Grace now,” Serina hissed. She headed for the door.

  Nomi followed because she couldn’t think and she didn’t know what else to do. I am not a Grace. This was a hallucination. A fever dream.

  A nightmare.

  Ines led them down the corridor, the opposite direction from the library.

  “What happened?” Serina muttered. Her cheeks were stained a violent red.

  “I don’t know.” Nomi rubbed at the skin of her neck. It felt as if it were stretched too tight. Choking her. “Is this even allowed? Signor Pietro chose you, not me.”

  “It is the Heir’s will.” The snap of Ines’s voice silenced them both.

  Nomi faltered, nearly tripping on her own feet. She’d been rude to the Heir. Defiant. He’d known she was a servant, and somehow out of a ballroom full of beautiful women, he’d chosen her?

  Nomi wasn’t flattered. She was terrified.

  Ines led the group of girls down endless corridors, up several staircases, until the blood was humming in Nomi’s ears and she could barely breathe without gasping. At some point, Serina grabbed her arm, maybe to hold her up.

  They finally came to a set of double doors carved with huge peonies and twisting vines, guarded by a man in a black uniform. He swept open the doors for them, his expression blank.

  Inside, golden light warmed a circular room, edged in gilt and ivory. Marble archways gave hints at the labyrinth beyond. Each was framed by spidery ferns set in painted urns. In the center of the room, cream divans were piled with crimson velvet pillows. One of the new Graces, Cassia, sighed and clasped her hands at her chest.

  “We meet here before events,” Ines said. “And this is where the Heir’s emissary will wait for you if you’ve been summoned to see him alone.”

  Nomi swallowed hard. Lending elegance to functions at the palazzo was not a Grace’s only job. She and the others would be expected to please the Heir privately as well.

  Nomi fought back a wave of nausea. She was supposed to serve Serina, not the Heir. That’s what she’d prepared for, all those years Serina was learning to dance and play the harp.

  She hadn’t prepared for this. She didn’t want this.

  “Our chambers are extensive,” Ines continued. “You are allowed to enjoy the gardens and beaches of the palace, but you’re not to wander beyond these rooms without an escort. I can arrange such excursions for you. Once in a while, we venture into Bellaqua, but only on special outings that the Heir or the Superior has arranged.

  “As Graces, it is our job to please, but it is also important to lift each other up. We need each other here. You’ll see that.” An odd undercurrent ran through Ines’s words, but Nomi was too overwhelmed to decipher what deeper message—if any—the woman was trying to give.

  Ines led them into a maze of sitting rooms decorated in pale yellows and pinks, with heavy damask curtains and delicate furniture. Arched doorways led to tiled bathing areas, wide balconies with marble balustrades, a large d
ining room, and massive walk-in closets full of the most beautiful gowns and negligees the textile workers in Lanos could create. Nomi knew just how precious these clothes were; her mother, and others like her, had worked themselves to the bone to make them. Serina had told her that the Graces lived in luxury, but this was beyond anything she had imagined.

  In each room, groups of Graces played Saints and Sailors or embroidered, silently overseen by men in white livery. Nomi had no doubt these men listened, watched, and reported back to the Superior. Some of the Graces walked along the terraces, or spoke quietly over tiny cups of steaming espresso. Despite the dozens of women she saw, the endless rooms remained quiet and serene, unmarred by laughter or raised voices.

  Nomi hated it all. The excess. The silence. The fake smiles the women wore, even here. She could have survived in this world as a servant—invisibility had an element of freedom to it—but she would never be able to school herself to serenity the way these Graces did. The way Serina could.

  By the time Ines showed each Grace and handmaiden to their respective rooms, Nomi was wobbling with exhaustion, overfilled with questions that threatened to spill out into the silence.

  “There are refreshments in your rooms,” Ines said. “Someone will wake you for breakfast. Handmaidens, I’ll introduce you to our Head Maiden in the morning. She’ll explain your duties.” Her eyes narrowed on Nomi. “I assume your sister will become your handmaiden? Otherwise, a handmaiden can be assigned by the palace.”

  Nomi’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry as sand, but she managed a choked “I want Serina.”

  At last, the sisters were alone. Their bedroom was cool, a steady breeze slipping in from the open window. A feather bed had been set underneath it, its thick golden drapes doubling as window curtains. Candles flickered on the dressing table, scenting the room with rose and vanilla. A plate of fresh fruit and bread rested beside the candles. Outside, the crescent moon hung near the horizon, its reflection dancing along the restless ocean. On this side of the palazzo, only the endless water was visible, instead of the city’s gleam and glitter.

  Nomi turned to her sister. She had so much she wanted to say, but it was all trapped in a tight knot in her throat. She sank to the edge of the bed.

  “What happened?” Serina bent down and yanked her sandals off, pulling savagely at the straps.

  Nomi’s eyes filled. “I was in the hallway… and the Heir and his brother rounded the corner. They were right there, right in front of me, and—” She broke off, took a deep breath, and then continued haltingly. “They caught me off guard, and I—I didn’t mean to—I said something I shouldn’t have.”

  “Oh, Nomi. How could you?” Serina’s reply was harsh.

  And of course she was angry. Nomi had never gone this far before, never put them so much at risk. Nomi punched her fist into the soft bedding. “I wish I’d never seen him. It was just such a shock. Especially, well, especially because…” Reluctantly, she retrieved the book of legends from their bag. Serina would be furious, but it was better to lay everything out now so they could work through it. Come up with a plan. “There’s this too.”

  Serina’s whole body stilled. Her sandals dangled from her fingers, forgotten. “Where did you get that?”

  “There was a library near the lavatory. I saw it, and I just… I went in. It was amazing. There were so many books, bookshelves to the ceiling.…” Nomi’s eyes glazed over just thinking about it.

  “So you what? Thought you’d take one for yourself?” Serina’s voice shook with rage. “This is so much worse than what you’ve done before. Speaking your mind, sneaking out of the house… that was bad. But this… carrying a book through the halls of the palazzo as if there wouldn’t be hell to pay.… Did the Heir see it?” Serina’s anger turned to panic.

  “No. I had it hidden.” Nomi swallowed against the lump in her throat, shame boiling in her veins. “But my impertinence was bad enough. I expected punishment, not—not this.…”

  “It doesn’t matter what you expected.” Serina opened the tiny armoire next to the handmaiden’s cot and threw her shoes inside. They thudded hollowly against the wood. Nomi flinched. “You caught his attention. You are a Grace now. Congratulations.”

  Nomi’s tears spilled, burning her cheeks. “I didn’t want this. This isn’t a prize, Serina. We should have a choice!”

  “This was my choice,” Serina blazed.

  “No.” Nomi’s heart wrenched. “It isn’t a choice when you don’t have the freedom to say no. A yes doesn’t mean the same thing when it’s the only answer you’re allowed!”

  “You are so naive.” The fire snuffed from Serina’s eyes. She reached back to fiddle with the clasps of her dress. Nomi hurried to help her, releasing the tight laces of her sister’s corset.

  Serina pulled off her clothes and put on one of the threadbare nightgowns from Nomi’s bag. Then she sank onto the handmaiden’s cot. “I can’t believe this happened.”

  “If you can’t bear it, go home,” Nomi said. Her heart ached for her sister, but that didn’t mean she understood her. Why wasn’t she relieved? Nomi slipped out of her dress and pulled on the other nightgown. “You don’t have to be my handmaiden.” The thought sent icy spears of fear through her. She wanted Serina to stay. She needed her sister if she was going to survive here. “For once, you have a choice.”

  “You see this as a choice?” Serina laughed bitterly. “I love you, Sister, as maddening as you are. I would never leave you to face this alone.”

  “Father would find a wealthy man to marry you,” Nomi persisted. “You could have children.”

  Serina stretched out on the cot and closed her eyes. “I won’t leave you,” she said again, with finality.

  Nomi’s heart ached with fear and regret. She glanced at the bed by the window and then at her sister. More than anything in the world she wished they were back in their small room in Lanos, curled in the bed side by side. “Do you want to sleep up here with me? There’s plenty of room.”

  But Serina turned onto her side, her back to Nomi. Her meaning was clear: She wouldn’t abandon her sister, but she hadn’t forgiven her either.

  Nomi climbed into bed alone.

  All night, her breath strained in her lungs as if her chest were bound in iron.

  I am a Grace.

  FIVE

  SERINA

  BY THE TIME dawn broke, Serina was already dressed, bleary eyed and hungry, listening to the Head Maiden talk about how to return dirty dishes, what she was allowed to request from the kitchen for Nomi, and where to find the supplies to clean the bedroom. Each handmaiden also had tasks assigned for the common areas—dusting, sweeping, sending clothes out for cleaning—the list went on and on. Serina spent the lecture staving off panic. She reminded herself that she was a quick study. She could learn to be a handmaiden, just as she’d learned to be a Grace.

  The Head Maiden led Serina and the other new handmaidens to a large room filled with hundreds of dresses, shelves of shoes, and trunks of fine lingerie. “Find clothes that will suit your Grace,” she ordered. “There are a variety of sizes; anything that needs to be altered should be brought to my attention so I can schedule a fitting with our seamstresses.” She opened a door at the far end of the room, revealing a small annex lined with shelves. “You’ll find your uniforms here. You may each take three sets. Once a week, you may send them out for cleaning.”

  Serina walked through the rows of fine clothes, letting her fingers drift along the silk and lace. She picked out a soft green dress that would complement Nomi’s skin tone, and a black gown shot through with silver thread. She piled dress after dress onto her arm, hugging the fine fabrics close, thinking of her mother.

  Mama Tessaro had pushed Serina so hard, since the first moment she’d realized her daughter would be a beauty. She’d never allowed Serina to doubt herself or her ability to do what was necessary to become a Grace. Never let her lower her guard, raise her gaze, be anything but graceful and obedien
t and poised. While Mama’s focus was so tightly set on Serina, she’d missed who Nomi had become.

  She’d missed Nomi’s outrage that she wasn’t allowed to go to school when Renzo did. She’d missed Nomi’s rebellious streak, her belief that she deserved the same treatment and rights as her brother, who’d been born minutes after her. Nomi had wanted to be Renzo, had wanted the freedoms of Renzo’s life. If Mama had realized, Serina wasn’t sure what she would have done. Punished Nomi privately at home or, worse, turned her in. But Mama Tessaro had only seen what she wanted to see: Serina’s beauty. Nomi’s usefulness.

  Serina had seen, though. She knew her sister had learned more than how to be a handmaiden. But Nomi had never learned how to be a Grace. It went deeper than the dancing and embroidery and harp playing. Nomi had never learned the temperament of submission.

  Not as Serina had.

  He should have chosen me.

  Serina grabbed three uniforms for herself and stacked several pairs of shoes on top. Back in the bedroom, she hung the dresses carefully in their armoire, laying a flowing flowered dress out on the foot of Nomi’s bed. Then she shook her sister’s shoulder.

  Nomi woke slowly, and as she sat up, Serina could see the dried tears that stained her cheeks. She knew Nomi had been awake most of the night; Serina had heard her shifting and sighing. A part of her wanted to hug her sister, to hold her close and tell her everything would be okay. But she was still too angry, her pride too raw.

  “We need to clean you up,” Serina said briskly. She headed for their small lavatory, returning with a warm, damp cloth to clean her sister’s face.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” Nomi said. It wasn’t a question, but her wide eyes tracked Serina’s face, begging her to contradict it.

  Serina shook her head. “No, it wasn’t.”

  Nomi’s eyes reddened, as if she were about to cry again.

  Serina prodded her toward the washroom. “You have breakfast on the terrace in fifteen minutes, and then a dress fitting.”