“I need a minute,” Nomi said, rubbing her forehead. “I—I don’t think I can eat.”
“It’s not optional.” Serina thrust the floral dress into her sister’s hands.
Nomi had always been the one to help Serina into nice dresses, do her makeup, fix her hair. Everything felt alien now. Serina couldn’t give herself time to think about it.
Nomi stared at the dress. “I can’t wear this. It’s practically transparent.”
“It’s not. It’s tasteful.” Serina put her hands to her hips. “You’re not a servant anymore. You have to dress to entice. You have to—”
“I don’t want to entice,” Nomi countered. “I would never wear this dress.”
“Maybe not, but I would,” Serina stated flatly.
A charged moment passed, and then with a huff, Nomi did as she was told. It was a little big, but Serina wound a length of ribbon around Nomi’s waist, up under her breasts, and tied it behind her neck. The makeshift halter accentuated her sister’s curves.
“I can hardly breathe,” Nomi complained.
“I haven’t taken a full breath in years,” Serina snapped. “You’ll get used to it.” She donned her own dress, plain brown with a white apron. The fabric was scratchy and the color hideous.
When she sat Nomi down before the vanity and opened the cosmetics bag, Nomi reached for a stick of kohl. “I’ll do it,” she said. “You don’t know how.” For years, Nomi had been the one to do Serina’s makeup.
“You’ll have to teach me.” Serina couldn’t help studying her sister’s reflection in comparison to her own, wondering what had tipped the scales in Nomi’s favor. Her sister’s clear amber eyes held more fire than Serina’s darker brown ones, but Serina’s skin was flawless, her hair shining and thick. Nomi’s cheeks had a ruddy tinge, and her lips were pressed tightly together, thinning them. She looked tired and anxious, and so very young.
“Play up your eyes,” Serina ordered. “They’re your strongest feature.” She sat down on the end of the bed. She was probably supposed to make up the sheets, tidy the room, but she watched Nomi do her makeup instead.
When Nomi finished, she made a face at Serina in the mirror. “I look ridiculous in this much makeup.”
“You look fine.” Serina got up and brushed out Nomi’s hair. The ends were dry, and the rest needed a tonic to brighten it. But it was thick, like Serina’s. She helped Nomi curl it into a demure bun at the nape of her neck. Then Nomi insisted on braiding Serina’s hair.
Now they looked their parts: Serina the handmaiden, Nomi the Grace.
They wore matching, miserable frowns.
“Go,” Serina said. “I have to clean up.”
Nomi didn’t move. “Serina? I am so, so sorry.”
Serina’s heart cracked at the fear in Nomi’s eyes. She knew she should say something reassuring, that she should stop being so cold. But she was dealing with their new reality too.
With a sigh, she said, “I know.”
Nomi’s gaze fixed on something over Serina’s shoulder in the mirror. She turned, blanching. Serina followed her gaze and saw it. The book, sitting on the bedside table, where anyone could see it.
Serina shot Nomi a look as she hurried over and snatched it up. “You need to hide this. Or dump it out the window. It’s dangerous, Nomi.”
Serina held out the book, but when she saw the cover, she hesitated. Why did it look so familiar? She sank to the bed and ran a hand across the letters. Nomi sat down beside her. “It’s the book of legends. Same as Renzo’s. I saw it and I couldn’t help myself. Everything is so different here, and seeing it… I felt like I’d found a piece of home.”
Despite herself, Serina softened. She remembered those secret nights when Nomi and Renzo had read to her, their voices bright as candle flames, wards against the dark. Serina opened the book and found the first story. “‘The Lovebirds,’ right? It was always my favorite.”
Nomi smiled. “You had me read it to you so many times, you memorized it.”
Serina’s face fell as she stared at the words she couldn’t read. The past pushed at her, a weight on her heart. “I wonder if I still remember?”
Nomi smiled. “Try.”
Serina closed her eyes, sending herself back to the candlelit corner of Renzo’s room. “Long before our ancestors’ ancestors were born, there was no land here,” she murmured, the memory still living in her mind. “Viridia didn’t exist, and the ocean washed unceasingly across the wide expanse of nothingness, with no shore to throw itself against, no rocky cliffs to force—”
The bedroom door opened. Serina’s eyes flew open, the words still falling from her mouth: “—a break.”
“Nomi, you’re supposed to be—” Ines stopped abruptly, staring at Serina, at the book in her hands. One of the white-clad men stood right behind her. “What are you doing?”
“We were…” Serina began, and then faltered. What could she say?
The Superior’s man stepped forward.
“Come with me, Serina,” Ines said, her face hardening.
Serina slid off the bed, the book dangling from her hand. The man snatched it away.
“Wait,” Nomi said frantically. “You don’t understand. It’s—”
But before Nomi could finish, Serina was torn away, her hands grasping at empty air. As the Superior’s man hauled her from the room, she twisted toward Nomi. She fought against the hand on her arm. Fought for one last glimpse of her sister.
Nomi hugged herself as tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked too small in that big room by herself, dwarfed by the huge, curtained bed. Serina realized she’d never seen Nomi without someone by her side—Renzo or Mama, or Serina herself. Nomi had never before been so painfully, inescapably alone.
With a thunderous crash, the bedroom door slammed shut between them.
Serina waited for word of her punishment in a small, dim room in the depths of the palace. She thought it unlikely the Superior would let her remain as Nomi’s handmaiden. But perhaps, after a probation period of some sort, maybe he’d be willing to reinstate her. Or maybe he’d have her flogged and let her continue her duties.
Serina had never dreamed she’d pray for a flogging.
She hadn’t revealed that the book was Nomi’s, or that Nomi could read. Ines had already caught Serina in a compromising position. All it would do was bring them both down.
If I’d hidden the book right away—
If Nomi hadn’t stolen it in the first place—
The pointless ifs circled through her mind, dogging her as she paced the small room.
“Serina Tessaro.” A tall man in green unlocked her door. “The Superior will see you now.”
Her heart stuttered and lurched.
She followed the man into a part of the palace far from the Graces’ chambers, but even so, Serina couldn’t help glancing through doorways and around corners for Nomi.
At last, the servant slowed. She expected a receiving room, something imposing. But instead, he led her into a small room lined with bookcases.
The library.
The Superior sat in a leather chair near the window. His face had a grayish tinge, and he was so thin, his bones looked as if they were trying to tear through his skin. But his eyes burned.
“Serina Tessaro,” he said, his voice an icy wind. Gooseflesh rose along her arms. “My Head Grace says you can read.”
Serina dropped her gaze to the tiled floor. She couldn’t move, couldn’t respond. Could barely breathe. He’d said nothing threatening—yet—but he watched her like a falcon would. Like she was prey.
“Who taught you?” he asked, a little fire creeping into the ice.
“No one,” Serina whispered.
The Superior shifted, and Serina heard the pop and crackle of his bones grinding against each other. She swallowed down bile. “Your father? A cousin?”
Oh, Nomi. What have you done?
Serina shook her head miserably. She had to say something. She had to lie. She c
ouldn’t let him punish her family. “I—I taught myself,” she stuttered. “I stole books.”
For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound a faint crash of waves from outside the open window.
Leather creaked as the Superior sat back. “Like you stole mine.”
Serina hung her head, terrified. In this moment, every breath the Superior took felt like an arrow, and she was the target.
“And your sister? Does she share… your proclivities? Sisters often share, I’m told.”
Mutely, Serina shook her head. Part of her wanted to say yes, to let Nomi face the consequences of her choices. But she couldn’t do that to her sister. It’d only mean they’d both be punished. “She can’t read, Your Eminence. She didn’t even know I could until today. Please… please. She had no part in this.”
“Hm.” For a few minutes, the Superior said nothing.
Serina couldn’t bear to look up, couldn’t take the even hiss of his breath, in and out. In and out. She prayed.
A flogging, please, a flogging.
But before the Superior even announced her sentence, instinct told her it would be so much worse.
SIX
NOMI
NOMI PICKED UP her bag and threw it furiously across the room. The sickening thud of it hitting the wall made her cry harder, consumed by fear for herself and her sister. Her empty stomach churned. She climbed onto the bed, into the indentation still left in the cloud-light bedding by Serina’s body. She curled up, squeezed her eyes shut tight, and tried to block out every shred of harsh morning light, every thought. Every regret.
But instead, her sister’s voice came back to her. Long before our ancestors’ ancestors were born, there was no land here.
One night a year or two ago, Serina had told the story just for the joy of it. They’d been curled up in one of Mama’s quilts on the floor of their small bedroom. Renzo was supposed to be studying his sums, but he was listening too, leaning back on his elbows, legs stretched out so they touched the far wall.
“One evening,” Serina had recited from memory, her recent singing lessons coating her voice with honey, “as the sun eased toward the horizon and the moon rose from its slumber, two birds flew along the path made on the water by the setting sun. They dipped and sagged, their battered wings barely holding them aloft. Every now and then, one would falter and fall toward the water, all strength gone. The other would dive and catch the first on its back, carrying its partner for a time.
“The two birds traveled this way for many leagues, until the path of the sun had faded and the moon’s silver road appeared. The ocean shimmied and danced beneath the birds, intrigued by their obvious love for each other. The ocean had never loved anything so much, to burden its own back with another’s survival. It didn’t understand why the birds didn’t fend for themselves—the stronger leave the weaker and carry on.
“It took the ocean some time to understand that apart, the birds would never have made it so far,” Serina had continued, wrapping an arm around Nomi’s shoulders. “That their love, their sacrifice, gave them both strength. When at last, the two little birds, their bright red and green feathers tarnished from their long journey, could no longer hold themselves free of the endless water, the ocean took pity on them. Rewarding their steadfastness, it pushed land up from its depths—huge, lush hills with fresh, clean water, towering cypress trees, and all the fruits and berries and seeds they could ever desire. The lovebirds alighted in the shady, cool branches of an olive tree, their tired wings wrapping around each other, their beaks tucked into each other’s feathers. And at last, they were able to rest.”
Back then, it had only been a story, but now she felt it in her bones. Serina loved her that much—enough to sacrifice herself for her sister. Serina could have said it wasn’t her book. She could have said Nomi was the one who could read. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t have, or they’d have come for Nomi too.
She didn’t know what had happened to Serina or if her sister would be back. But Nomi knew Serina had protected her, as she always did. Nomi made the mistakes. Serina cleaned up the mess.
Nomi tightened her arms across her stomach, locked in misery and guilt.
At some point, she fell back asleep, the sheet damp under her cheek from her tears, and dreamt of her sister’s arms holding her up.
When she awoke, someone was leaning over her.
“Serina?” she murmured hoarsely.
“It’s time to get up,” a gentle voice said. “You’ve slept all day.”
Nomi sat up quickly, reality crashing over her.
The girl stepped back to give her space. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She was about Nomi’s age, with a slight frame, lightly tanned skin, and a small, pointed face. Her tawny hair dangled in a braid down her back, and she stood with her hands clasped together at her waist. There was nothing remarkable about her, nothing of note, except that she wasn’t Serina.
“I’m Angeline, your new handmaiden,” the girl said, bowing slightly. “I’ve brought you some food. It’s well past luncheon.” She pointed to a plate of pastries on the dressing table. “The almond spirals are my favorite. Have you ever had one? They’re a Bellaquan specialty.”
Nomi looked around, disoriented by the late-afternoon sunlight slanting through the room. The clothes from her bag had been folded and neatly placed on an upholstered chair in the corner. A light breeze drifted in the open window. The steady crash of waves hummed in the background.
It all made her sick—the beautiful room, the comfortable bed, even the lovely weather. She felt Serina’s absence like the loss of a limb. How would she survive here without her?
“Where’s my sister?” she asked.
Angeline shook her head. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.…”
Nomi surged to her feet, determined to find Ines—or someone who would know—but the sudden movement sent a patina of color exploding before her eyes. She swayed.
“You should eat,” Angeline said. She tentatively put her hand on Nomi’s arm, drawing her toward the dressing table. “Ines said you missed breakfast as well. You must be famished.”
Nomi sank into the delicate wrought-iron chair. She wanted to reject the food, the pale pink juice in its chilled crystal glass, but she hadn’t eaten since the morning before. Nomi took a bite, the buttery cornetto melting on her tongue. Angeline retired to just outside the half-open bedroom door to give her privacy. For an instant, it felt as if the handmaiden were a guard, and Nomi’s room a prison.
The pastry turned to dust in her mouth, and she struggled to swallow it. She needed to find out where they’d taken Serina and what was going to happen to her. Nomi had never heard of a woman being caught reading before; she had no idea what the punishment was. But surely someone knew. Serina might be sent to a work camp, or ordered to a factory. Best case, they might let her continue working in the palace in a punishing, menial job. Then at least Nomi could be near her.
She stood slowly, to avoid another dizzy spell, and headed for the door. “Angeline,” she said. “I’d like to speak to Ines.”
Angeline lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m to take you to get cleaned up.”
Nomi opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She couldn’t very well storm down corridors demanding to know what had happened to Serina. It wouldn’t help her sister to draw attention to herself. She’d have to wait for the right moment.
“Fine,” she said.
Angeline led Nomi through several empty sitting areas and along a terrace, eventually entering a large room with a vaulted ceiling made of glass, girded with delicate swirls of metal that glinted in the late-afternoon sunlight. A large pool of gently steaming water was sunk into the slate-tiled floor. In the face of such luxury, all Nomi could think of was the small, stained tub in her home, with its creaky pipes and two minutes of hot water a day. Serina had always bathed first—those two minutes had been hers.
Nomi struggled not to cry.
After Angeline helped remove her wrinkled dress, Nomi lowered herself into the shallow pool, sighing as the warm water enveloped her. While the handmaiden assembled a dizzying array of soaps and lotions, Nomi dunked her hair under the water.
“Ah, our little recluse,” Cassia, the blond one, said when Nomi surfaced. “Missing meals and training on our first day? You’re not worried the Heir will hear of it?”
“No,” Nomi bit out. What did it matter if the Heir was displeased? She had bigger concerns. “My sister, Serina, was taken away this morning. Have you seen her? Or heard anything?”
Cassia affected a concerned frown, her gentian-blue eyes widening. “There were rumors of an… incident. Someone said she’d been removed from the palazzo.”
Removed.
Had they sent Serina back to Lanos? Nomi imagined her arriving home in disgrace. Their parents would shun her. Her prospects for marriage to a wealthy man would evaporate. She’d probably be contracted to the textile factory. Only Renzo would be there to comfort her, but even he would be powerless to help her.
“Who told you that?” Nomi asked.
Cassia shrugged, sending ripples along the surface of the glowing pool. “One of the Superior’s Graces. Rosario seems to know everyone’s secrets here.”
“Not everyone’s,” Maris muttered. The girl’s black hair was swept back, revealing broad cheekbones, ivory skin, and luminous brown eyes. When she noticed Nomi looking at her, she said, more clearly, “Rosario didn’t know if your sister was ill, or if she’d done something wrong. Is she okay?”
A sharp pain slashed through Nomi’s stomach. She wished she knew. But at least Maris’s concern sounded genuine, unlike Cassia’s. “Serina is not ill,” was all Nomi could say. Angeline silently soaped up her hair, her presence a reminder that, wherever Serina was, she wasn’t coming back. Not soon, anyway.
Grace and Fury Page 4
