“Nomi, no one should be imprisoned for reading. Not you or your sister.” Asa covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We are going to free her. Together, we are going to change everything.”
Nomi balanced on a precipice, as wind-blown and perilous as a real cliff. There was a difference between defiance and outright rebellion. Could she do this? Could she jump over the ledge?
Maybe not for herself. But for Serina, yes.
TWENTY-ONE
SERINA
RESOLVING TO LEAVE Mount Ruin was easy; actually escaping would be much more difficult.
“It’s steep here,” Jacana said, picking her way across a ribbon of lava rock.
Serina clambered as close to the cliff’s edge as she dared and studied the narrow curve of beach far below. “Too steep. The guards and other prisoners don’t come here, but it’d be almost impossible to get down there ourselves.”
“Maybe somewhere farther south?” Jacana sat down on the rock and dusted off her hands before wiping the sweat from her forehead. They’d been hiking all morning.
Serina was glad to have Jacana’s company. Every time they passed a tower or a guard on patrol, Serina’s muscles tensed and her stomach turned sour. She’d seen Bruno once, from a distance, but he hadn’t approached. Apparently Petrel’s warning had been effective.
Serina was haunted by the knowledge that if Petrel hadn’t appeared, she would have done whatever Bruno said. She’d been raised her whole life to be submissive. To defer to men. She’d only been learning to fight for a few weeks.
“The best wood is down south,” Serina said, pushing thoughts of Bruno—and Petrel—from her mind. “It would save us having to carry our supplies across the island.” She settled down beside Jacana. “But Va—” She cut herself off. She hadn’t told anyone about her conversation with Val, not even Jacana. “Uh, various people have told me the rocks are very dangerous down there. It would make getting the raft away from the island difficult.”
Jacana glanced over her shoulder at the guard tower in the distance. “I think it’s going to be difficult either way.”
Serina took a deep breath of humid, salt-soaked air. “It’s going to be almost impossible, and take time, but I know we can do this.”
Jacana pulled on the end of her braid. The crease between her brows deepened. “I’m more worried about building the raft. I’ve never built anything in my life. And we have no tools, no materials.…”
Serina rubbed her dirty, callused palms together. “Between my sweet manners and your thieving, we can get tools. And when we’re ready to start building, we’ll tell Gia. She lived her whole life on a boat. She’ll be able to help. If there’s room for two, there’ll be room for three.”
Jacana stared at the glittering ocean. “We’ll be caught. Or we’ll get out there, the raft will fall apart, and we’ll drown.”
“Maybe.” At Jacana’s look, Serina amended. “Probably.”
She climbed back to her feet. There was no denying it was a dangerous, foolish plan. Find a hiding spot on the beach and build a raft out of timber and vines? Absurd.
But Serina had been over and over it. There was no other possibility. Doing something, anything, was better than nothing. Nomi needed her, and the longer Serina stayed here, the more likely it was she’d have to fight. And if she fought, she’d die. No matter how she looked at it, a clock was counting down, with Nomi’s fate and her own sliding ever closer to disaster.
“At some point we’ll have to fight,” she said, her hands clenching into fists. “Would you rather die playing the Commander’s sick game or trying to escape?”
“I’d rather not die at all,” Jacana said faintly. Suddenly, her shoulders stiffened. “There’s a guard coming this way.”
Serina’s stomach dropped. She turned to look, but the man moving toward them didn’t keep his hand on his gun, didn’t gaze at them with suspicion. His dark hair clambered out from under his hat, and his bright, dark eyes watched them curiously.
“Got reports from the tower that we had some jumpers,” Val said. He raised a brow at Serina.
“We’re not here to jump,” she assured him. “We were, ah… looking for a place we could get in the water and cool off.”
Jacana sat on the rough rock, still as a statue. Frozen in fear, maybe. Serina understood. If it had been anyone other than Val…
He squinted in the bright, hot sun. “There are some beaches on the east side where you can get in the water without worrying about the undertow,” he offered. “But stay on the coast, away from Jungle Camp, and don’t go too far north, or you’ll run into Twig and her crew.”
Serina brushed her hands on her pants and said casually, “We were hoping to find a place with some shade, a few good sturdy trees, you know. And private… don’t need the guards gawking.”
Val rubbed the back of his neck, which was burnt brown by the sun. “Some trees, private…” he said, considering. “Yeah, the east side’s your best bet. There are a few beaches like that. You might have to dodge some of the other girls.”
“Thank you.” Serina smiled, eager to check it out. She looked over at Jacana, who was still frozen. “Up for a little more hiking?”
Jacana nodded and slowly got to her feet, still eyeing Val warily.
With a last friendly glance at Serina, he said, “More patrolling to do. You girls be careful. There’s a lot of rough ground to cover. Probably take you a few hours.” And then he headed south, along the cliffs.
Serina set out toward the center of the island.
“You trust that guard?” Jacana asked, coming up beside her.
Serina thought about that. Did she trust Val? “I trust him not to willingly hurt me,” she said at last. “And I trust what he said about the east beach.” She picked her way across thick tree roots curling over a thin ribbon of lava rock. “But I wouldn’t trust him with my life,” she added. “He’s still a guard, bound by Commander Ricci’s orders.”
Jacana picked up her pace, practically leaping over the uneven ground. Like she was running from something. “I’ve heard stories about the guards. When I saw him coming toward us, I just froze.”
Unwanted memories of Bruno rose in Serina’s mind. Striving to ease Jacana’s, Serina told the girl what Petrel had said. “Being in Oracle’s crew gives us protection. We’re safe, Jacana.”
The girl laughed unexpectedly. “Safe? I felt safer in an abandoned warehouse in Sola with the authorities breaking down the door, and I knew I had stolen goods inside. This island, every bit of it, is worse than the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.”
They hiked up into the hills, into the shade of the scrubby forest. Serina looked around at the lush greenery that had somehow missed the volcano’s wrath. Here, among the trees, she could almost imagine she was out for a pleasant walk. “Do you know that before I came here, I’d never been on a walk by myself? Or even with my sister, or a friend. Maybe—”
“Maybe it’s not so bad? The guards, the fights, the starving, the volcano.” Jacana dragged a hand through her messy hair and shook her head. “There is no maybe. It is bad. It is hell.”
Serina had never heard her sound so bitter. Gently, she said, “I was going to say maybe that’s part of the nightmare, having just enough freedom thrown at you to tempt you, knowing it’s an illusion. Knowing that Mount Ruin will kill you, somehow, no matter what you do.”
Jacana paused for a moment to catch her breath, her hand on a wind-bent tree. “Unless we build our raft.”
Serina smiled. “We will. We’re going to find a way off this island.”
Jacana didn’t look particularly hopeful, but she started walking again. As Serina wove through the forest, she kept her eyes peeled for fruit or anything else they could eat. They’d only had a few bites of bread for breakfast, and already she was so sluggish it felt as if she wore skirts of lead.
Serina and Jacana hiked through most of the afternoon, skirting Jungle Camp and stopping to drink some water from
a trickle of stream that ran uncomfortably close to a guard tower. When at last they made it to the east coast, it took them some time to find a place that would suit their purposes. But even so, Serina was encouraged. They were isolated here, a good hour from Jungle Camp and even farther from Hotel Misery down south. There was little reason for the other crews to venture this far.
At last, they found a spot boasting a soft, easily accessible beach with gentle waves, several cypress trees scrabbling up from the sandy shore, and a bit of a cave as the rocks pushed up into cliffs further down the beach.
Wood for their raft, a place to hide it, and calm waters for its launch.
It was perfect.
“Now all we need are some makeshift tools and the time to work.” Serina gave Jacana a quick hug. “We can do this.”
Jacana’s timid face eased into a grin. “Maybe we can.”
TWENTY-TWO
NOMI
THE MORNING AFTER she met with Asa, Nomi bent over the scrap of paper on her dressing table and took up her stick of kohl. Asa had offered her writing materials, but she was afraid Angeline would find them. The deep black eyeliner stood out starkly on a blank page torn reluctantly from the back of the history book. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that he’d been the one to leave it for her. He hadn’t seemed surprised when she said she could find her own means of writing the letter.
It took her a long time to figure out how to code her message. Hopefully Renzo would understand the words woven into one of their favorite legends, of the brothers and the mysterious tattooed woman.
The story was about a kind brother who falls in love with a scullery maid with a secret: Her father, a pirate, has left her a fortune. She tattooed the treasure map into her skin so she would never forget its location, and plans to find it with the kind brother’s help. But the cruel younger brother thwarts their plans, killing them both when the woman refuses to reveal the map. He finds the map and treasure, but the ghosts of his brother and the mysterious woman appear, terrifying him so much his heart seizes and he dies, the treasure lost forever.
It was quite a bloodthirsty tale. Nomi’s version altered it to give Renzo clues.
The older brother was the cruel one.
The younger knew how to stop him.
The woman chose to help instead of refusing to share her secret.
And in Nomi’s version, the woman’s sister was in grave danger. Nomi was as explicit as she dared. She asked him to come to Bellaqua as soon as he could, and to send word when he arrived. She told him it was dangerous.
Even with a mask, even with a plan, it was dangerous.
She signed it with a simple N so Renzo’s best friend, Luca, wouldn’t know whom it was from. She ripped another page out of the book, folded it around the letter like an envelope, and wrote Luca’s address on it. She couldn’t get the letter out of the city, but Asa could. She knew Luca would pass the message to Renzo. He wouldn’t understand it, but he’d pass it along. She dripped some candle wax to seal it.
Tonight, at the boat party, Nomi would try to slip the letter to Asa. It would be difficult to steal a private moment, but they both decided it was less dangerous than attempting another clandestine meeting so soon.
A quiet knock galvanized her. “Just a minute!” she called. She rushed to hide the note deep under the mattress, with the book.
Angeline shuffled into the room, her arms overflowing with a cloud of red fabric.
“What is that?” Nomi asked, looking askance at the pile.
Her handmaiden heaved it onto the bed. “Your gown for the party tonight. The dressmaker finally finished it. Yours was the last one she finished. She cut it close this time.”
Surprise, Nomi thought. Her relationship with the seamstresses remained strained.
“I forgot how massive it is.” She’d been unable to breathe during the fitting, and she remembered thinking the dress made her look like a stranger.
Unbidden, Nomi found herself wondering what Asa would think of its full skirt and structured, low-cut bodice.
“It’s red.” Angeline smiled. “Malachi’s favorite color.”
Nomi’s stomach twisted. She tried to return her handmaiden’s smile. “It’s lovely.”
Angeline continued her chatter. “You know his horse is a blood bay?”
Nomi looked at her blankly.
“Red,” Angeline clarified. “A great hulking beast with a long black mane. The other day I was cleaning the terrace and saw him riding. Gorgeous thing. The horse, I mean. I’ve always thought the Heir was quite terrifying, to be honest. Is he always so serious? But handsome, of course, don’t you think?”
“I—I don’t know,” Nomi replied. Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere but in that room. She had no desire to gossip about the Heir. What would Angeline think if Nomi confessed the Heir terrified her too?
“It’s hours ’til the party. I think I’ll work on my embroidery. Get a little air.” Nomi collected her materials and scurried into the hall. As she walked through the ornate sitting rooms, all oppressively silent, Nomi wished she could escape outside, take a walk somewhere, feel the air on her face. The best she could do was make her way to one of the terraces.
“Oh! Excuse me,” Nomi said, noticing Maris in a wicker chair by the railing. She was staring out at the ocean through the gaps of the twisting iron flowers.
Maris waved a hand at the chair beside her. “I don’t mind.”
Nomi settled onto the seat and pulled out her embroidery hoop.
One of the Superior’s men stepped into the doorway and stood for a few moments, watching them. Eventually he left, his white shoes silent on the tile. Nomi wondered if it was one of the men she’d dodged the night before. Returning to her room had been a little less nerve-racking than sneaking out; Asa had given her directions to the servants’ entrance, which wasn’t on the men’s rounds.
Maris’s gaze flicked to the empty doorway. “I hate the way they loom in corners, listening,” she murmured. “Yesterday the Superior disciplined Eva for something she said when one of his guards was watching.”
“Do you know what she said?” Nomi asked.
Maris shook her head. “I didn’t hear. But she was scared when Ines told her the Superior had summoned her. And Rosario told me that the Heir is taking us on an excursion tomorrow in place of the Superior and his Graces as punishment for Eva’s impertinence. Ines is to announce it at lunch.”
“So we’re to leave the palace?” Nomi asked. The thought of the Superior punishing Eva made her shiver, but she couldn’t deny she was eager to leave the walls of the palazzo. “Do you know where we’re going?”
Maris nodded. “A perfumery. That’s what Rosario said. I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s away from here.”
Nomi eyed Maris. It sounded like Nomi wasn’t the only one who felt trapped. With a sigh, she turned back to her stitches and tried not to stab her finger with the needle.
Maris gestured to Nomi’s embroidery. “That’s fine work. You’re talented.”
Nomi studied the frame in her hands, with its cityscape of Bellaqua half-complete. She’d been trying to finish Serina’s work, but her stitches were inelegant compared to her sister’s, and she couldn’t help thinking she was making it worse.
Up until last night, she’d felt like she was making everything worse. But now she had a plan. She ran her fingers over Serina’s delicate stitches. The absence of her sister was a hole in her chest, growing larger and larger the longer they spent apart. She had to save Serina. If she didn’t, there’d be nothing of her left.
“My sister did most of it,” Nomi said softly. “She’s the one with the skill. I’m fine with darning socks and sewing patches, but this is a challenge for me.” She made a noise in the back of her throat. “Like everything here.”
“Did you ever find out what happened to her?” Maris brushed her ink-black hair off her shoulder.
Nomi stabbed her needle through the fabric. “The
Superior sent her away. Rosario was right.”
“Home?”
Nomi swallowed. “No.”
Maris turned her attention back to the ocean. “It’s hard to be separated from the people we love.”
“Is that why you’re not happy here?” Nomi asked softly. “Do you miss your family too?”
Maris’s face hardened. “I have no family. My mother is dead and my father is dead to me.”
Nomi glanced toward the doorway. Still empty. No looming shadows. “You said you would have been happy here, if not for your father. What did you mean?”
Maris leaned forward and put her head in her hands.
“Never mind. I’m sorry for asking,” Nomi said, contrite. She hadn’t meant to upset Maris.
“No,” Maris said, through her hands. “It’s just that… I’ve never been able to talk about it before. And it’s killing me.” She took a deep breath.
Nomi kept watching the doorway; she had a feeling this wasn’t a conversation Maris would want the Superior to have knowledge of.
In a rush, Maris said, “My father paid off the magistrate of our province to choose me.” Her face reddened. “He found me kissing… my, ah…” She couldn’t seem to continue.
Nomi asked softly, “You were in love with someone unsuitable?”
Maris lifted her head to stare out at the horizon. “Her name was Helena,” she said in a whisper.
Nomi bit back a gasp. A woman loving another woman was forbidden in Viridia.
“We had a plan.… She was going to be my handmaiden. We would have been together. But Father caught us. He threatened me,” Maris said louder, anger coating the words. “Make the Heir choose me as one of his Graces, without Helena as my handmaiden, or he’d inform the authorities and I would be sent away.” Her mouth snapped shut. She turned her head to meet Nomi’s eyes. “So I did.”
Grace and Fury Page 14
