Grace and Fury

by Tracy Banghart

  Her panting breath screamed in her throat. She scrambled to her feet, backing away from him at the same time. The darkness was disorienting, giving his face a deathly, masklike quality.

  Like a snake hypnotizing his prey, his gaze held her. She paused for a split second.

  But it gave him an opening. He raised his firearm.

  She threw her knife as hard as she could.

  Miraculously, it buried itself to the hilt in his chest.

  But he still fired his weapon.

  A searing pain exploded in her arm as the force of the bullet drove her to the ground. Her head slammed against something hard and the world went black.

  THIRTY-TWO

  NOMI

  BEAUTIFULLY DRESSED WOMEN stood at intervals throughout the small ballroom in the Graces’ chambers, their arms raised above their heads in identical poses. Their faces tilted toward the ceiling, with matching expressions of serenity. Except Maris, whose eyes were dulled by grief. And Nomi, who wore a look of fury.

  She would never master the art of becoming a living statue, because she never wanted to. She wasn’t made of clay. Her bones and breath and blood were meant to move.

  At the far end of the room, Ines gracefully shifted to a new position. In silence, the rest of the Graces shifted too, matching Ines’s stance perfectly.

  Nomi’s muscles shook.

  For a week, she had done little but go to dress fittings and dance lessons and endless Grace training. The rest of the time she’d paced her room, driving Angeline to distraction. Asa had sent her no messages, and they’d had no opportunity to speak during the dance lessons. Malachi had appeared a few times to watch the training, throwing all three girls out of sorts, but he had never requested to see them alone.

  The moment they’d shared at the beach haunted her. His skin sliding against hers, the way he’d held her in the water, safe and yet at his mercy… the fact that he’d been the one to give her the book.… She knew it was a trap. It had to be. But he had called it a gift, and the look in his eyes had almost convinced her he meant it. But how could that be?

  And why was she thinking of him when Asa held all her hopes? He was the brother she wanted. He was the one she trusted, that she cared about. The one she was desperate to see.

  Maris had tried to speak to her, and Cassia sniped and tittered behind her back. But the haze wouldn’t dissipate. Every day that passed without word from Renzo, it was harder for Nomi to concentrate on life in the Graces’ chambers.

  Had Renzo understood her message? What if he’d decided not to come? What if Trevi had betrayed Asa, and Renzo was even now awaiting the Superior’s judgment?

  Her mind spiraled further and further into darkness.

  And at its center, Serina sat in her cell, thinking she would be there forever. Not knowing how hard Nomi was trying to save her. How desperately impatient she was to see her sister safe and well.

  If Renzo didn’t get that letter… if Renzo didn’t come…

  By the time Ines moved to the next statuesque pose, Nomi’s arms were on fire.

  “Why are we doing this?” she groused under her breath, dropping her arms to let the blood flow back into her fingers.

  “Nomi!” Ines called. “Arms up. No excuses.”

  With a badly concealed groan, Nomi bullied her shaking limbs into position.

  “It is a great honor to be chosen as a living statue for one of the Superior’s parties.” Cassia held the contorted pose as if made of stone. Not a single tremble.

  Nomi’s arm dropped again, her fingers having progressed past tingly and into numb. As she shook her hand back to life, she noticed the guard in the doorway slip into the hall. Seconds later, Marcos’s stocky form replaced him.

  Nomi’s eyes widened. Marcos regarded her calmly, but with intent. Did he want to speak with her? Was this it?

  She tried to squelch the thrill of hope that shivered up her spine. She’d seen Marcos half a dozen times over the past week. His presence could easily mean nothing.

  Still, Nomi’s heart jumped when Ines announced, at last, “That’s enough for today.”

  The rustle of fabric and murmur of voices slowly filled the room. Maris shook out her fingers. Cassia twisted at the waist a few times and rearranged her silky blond hair. Some of the other girls sagged, but Cassia’s whole body sang with energy.

  Nomi rubbed at her aching neck with fingers still smarting painfully.

  She left the room with the others, and silent as a shadow, Marcos followed.

  He waited until they were alone in the empty corridor of bedrooms before slipping something into her hand.

  A letter.

  Nomi’s breath froze. N, in care of Trevi was written in Renzo’s hand.

  Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Renzo.

  “His Eminence asks that you meet him on the terrace. Tonight,” Marcos said quietly. When she nodded, he bowed and slipped away.

  Nomi hurried to her room. She didn’t know how long Angeline would be. She turned the letter over to break the seal, only to find it already broken.

  Had Asa read the letter?

  A whisper of apprehension swept through her, but she shook it off. She hadn’t asked him not to read it, and she was sure Renzo had followed her lead and concealed his identity.

  She opened the letter with shaking hands.

  Renzo had written her bits of the story about the moon and the man she fell in love with. But some of the details were wrong. She pieced together his message, her hands trembling so hard she could barely read the words.

  He was here, in Bellaqua. He would help. He just needed her to tell him what to do.

  And he had signed it with a simple R.

  Nomi sank onto the bed, the letter crumpled into her arms, and wept.

  In relief. In terror.

  The Heir’s birthday was in two days.

  Asa was waiting for her when she slipped onto the terrace. There were no words, at first. Only hungry hands and mouths and heat and silence. Nomi clung to him as if, somehow, he could ward off the memory of his brother.

  You are who I choose, she thought as he brushed feather-light kisses along her jaw.

  This is what I want, she thought as his hands tightened on her waist.

  And yet, Malachi wouldn’t leave her.

  Asa pulled back. “Nomi?”

  For a moment, she rested against his chest, her arms tight around him, and breathed.

  When she felt steadier, she put a little distance between them.

  “You saw my cousin’s message,” she said. “He’s staying at the Fiore. I’ll write to him and explain what we need—”

  Asa shook his head. “Father has me running errands all over the city for Malachi’s birthday. I can go to him myself and explain our plan.”

  The thought of Asa and Renzo face-to-face made her more nervous than it should have.

  “Tell me the plan again,” she said. She’d run it through her mind a thousand times, but she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

  Asa smoothed his hands down her arms, the thin silk of her dressing gown the only thing between his skin and hers. “After the ceremony, my father will retire to an antechamber off the ballroom to rest. The room is private, with easy access from the ballroom if you know where to look. That’s where the ruse should take place. We don’t want a guard seeing our man and interfering too soon. You and I have promised your cousin that he will come to no harm. We will keep that promise.”

  “And his exit?” Nomi asked. She wished she could go to Bellaqua with Asa and see Renzo herself. The knowledge that her brother was so close, just beyond the canal, was maddening. She missed him so much.

  Asa gestured toward the railing. “The ballroom opens onto a patio. He can just walk off into the night. No one will ever know he was there.”

  “What about a mask? And… and a weapon?” Nomi hated the thought of Renzo entering the palazzo with a weapon, but to make the illusion wor
k, he had to have something.

  Asa nodded. “I’ll make sure he has what he needs. I’ve got an invitation for him as well so he won’t be questioned when he arrives.” He kissed the top of her head. “And you, flower, are you ready for your next task?”

  “I’ve written the letter, but Malachi has not requested my presence in his chambers yet. I don’t know—”

  “He will,” Asa interrupted, with a smile. “He will want to meet with each of his Graces once more before the big day. I’ll suggest he invite you to his chambers for a game of Saints and Sailors. All you have to do is hide the letter somewhere in his room.”

  She nodded her head against his chest. She was so tired. It felt as if she hadn’t gotten a full night of sleep since she’d arrived at the palazzo.

  “I’m sorry you have to risk yourself,” Asa went on. “If my handwriting was less recognizable, I could do this part for us.”

  Nomi straightened so she could see his expression. “It’s our plan. We must both accept the risks.”

  “And it will be worth it, in the end,” he replied, the mischievous gleam back in his eyes. “We are going to remake this country.”

  “And save Serina,” she added.

  “And save Serina.” Asa caressed her cheek. “You’ll be free too. Of my brother, and all the obligations he has for you.”

  Nomi told herself that this was right. There was nothing else to say. But she couldn’t entirely dismiss her tiny, niggling doubts.

  “Asa, your brother put a book in my room. As a test to see if I could read.”

  Asa stilled, his whole body tensing. “Did you tell him you could?”

  “No,” she said. “Of course not.”

  “Good.” But he didn’t relax.

  “I thought you’d left it,” she said. “It was about the history of Viridia. About—about Viridia’s queens.”

  When he looked at her, the moonlight illuminated a sudden intensity in his eyes. The expression made him look like his brother. “Malachi is manipulating you, Nomi. He’s trying to get into your confidence so he can use the things you love against you.”

  Nomi’s breath froze in her throat.

  “Don’t trust him,” Asa continued urgently. “He’ll punish you, just like Father punished Serina. He’s done it before, Nomi.”

  “What do you—”

  “Don’t trust anyone with your secret,” Asa interrupted. “It’s not safe.”

  Nomi pressed her face to Asa’s chest. Shame slithered through her veins. She’d started to wonder if she was wrong about Malachi. But this sealed her opinion.

  And his fate.

  “Just imagine,” Asa murmured, his breath warm against her hair. “Soon it won’t matter that you can read. We can ensure all women can. There will be no Graces. Women will be free to make their own choices.”

  His words were a spell, binding Nomi to him, to his vision of a future she’d give anything to see. “That’s what I want, Nomi.” He kissed the top of her head again. “That, with you as my queen.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  SERINA

  SERINA DRIFTED IN and out with the waves.

  Sometimes, the waves were laced with fire, and she burned.

  A cool hand on her forehead. The warmth of sun against her cheek.

  Water dripped into her mouth.

  Velvet night, and Nomi’s face—no. Her sister was lost.

  When the fire faded, and the world began to make sense again, Serina found Val.

  “What, what are you—” The words scratched her throat. She blinked groggily, the darkness pressing close.

  He put the cool rim of a flagon to her lips. “Hello there,” he said. “You’ve been trying to become a dead girl on me for real. I’m relieved that you didn’t succeed.”

  Serina licked her cracked lips. “What happened?”

  She remembered a fight, a banishment. Bruno’s blank face in the darkness.

  A gunshot.

  “Bruno almost killed you,” Val said. His normally clean-shaven face was dark with stubble, and his curly hair had flattened on one side, as if he’d recently slept on it. Only he didn’t look like he’d slept much. Too pale, too many shadows under his eyes. “His bullet only grazed you, but you fell down and hit your head. You’ve been in and out for a few days. I wasn’t sure… well. I don’t have a lot of experience with head injuries. But the bullet wound is healing nicely.”

  Serina shifted and winced, putting a hand to her side. “It doesn’t feel nice.”

  Val smiled. “I’m sure it doesn’t. But you’re alive.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “You kept me safe.”

  In the firelight, his cheeks reddened.

  As her mind cleared, Serina took in her surroundings. Stone walls, a small fire, the faint sound of the surf. Her cave by the beach. She was lying on a thin pallet, covered with his uniform jacket as a blanket. He sat on another pallet next to her.

  He noticed her looking around. “I looked for you by the cliffs first, and then I remembered us talking about the east beach. My rounds only cover the west side of the island, so I couldn’t come right away without drawing suspicion. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  She shook her head and winced. A dull ache encircled her skull, and every time she moved, it sent off sparks through her brain. It was enough that he’d come. More than enough.

  She might have died if he hadn’t.

  He held up the flagon again and helped her take a couple of sips. “When you feel ready, I’ve got some bread. It’s stale.”

  She looked at him, her hazy mind filling with wonder. “You came prepared.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know what state you’d be in. Bedding, aid kit, food and water… it’s just the basics.”

  “Have you been here since the night when—when Bruno—” Her throat closed.

  He nodded. “I’d already decided I couldn’t wait any longer to come find you, when I heard Bruno talk about the east beach. I followed him at a safe distance so he wouldn’t notice. But I was too far away. I couldn’t get to you in time.” A darkness passed across his features.

  “What happened to Bruno?” she asked.

  With the back of his hand, Val checked her forehead, looking encouraged. But he didn’t answer.

  “I killed him,” Serina said, staring at him.

  “You did what you had to do. He was going to kill you.”

  “Is—is he still out there?” On the beach, rotting in the sun, her imagination supplied.

  Val shook his head. “He took a swim. The sharks were grateful.”

  “You’ve been here for days. What about Commander Ricci? Hasn’t he sent someone to look for you? You can’t just leave your post. Won’t he punish you?”

  Val shrugged. “It was a terrible job. Happy to be rid of it. And he can’t punish me if he can’t find me.”

  “Val!” she said, outraged.

  “I wasn’t going to let you die,” he said, looking at her as if this should be no great revelation.

  But it was. He had risked himself, abandoned his job for her?

  She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

  He filled the silence. “The Commander’s had us looking for you. I kept the others away from here as long as I could.”

  A clammy cold sank to her bones. “I thought no one cares about the strays.”

  “I think he wants to make an example of you. Ricci was furious when you submitted. He called the crew chiefs together and threatened them. He doesn’t want anything like that happening again.” He helped her sit up and handed her a small, round loaf of bread from his bag. “Time to eat something. You’re shaking.”

  Serina took a tentative bite. When the bread went down without incident, she devoured the strips of dried meat he handed her too. As she ate, some of the trembling receded.

  She wondered when Commander Ricci had spoken to the crew chiefs, if it was before or after she’d talked to Slash.

  Val put another stick on
the fire. The movement caught her attention. Serina watched him for a few moments, trying to puzzle him out. “Why are you doing this? Why did you stay?”

  He didn’t look at her. “I told you. I didn’t want you to die.”

  Serina wasn’t satisfied. “Enough that you were willing to risk your own life? You abandoned your post. Helped a prisoner. They’ll hunt you down. They won’t let this stand, Val. You’ve put a target on your own back. Why?”

  The more she thought about it, the more inconceivable it became.

  Val abandoned his fire and knelt before her. He reached for her hands. “Your life is worth those things to me, Serina. You may not believe that, but it’s the truth. I thought—” And for the first time she saw uncertainty in his eyes. “I thought there was something between us, something that maybe justified us fighting for each other.…”

  The kiss.

  The I think I might die, so why not? kiss.

  Serina knew how she was supposed to act when a man desired her—obedient, submissive, acquiescent. But she’d spent weeks fighting to unlearn all that she knew about the world. Oracle had told her strength was the currency here. Serina wanted to believe she’d found hers.

  “I am grateful you came to my rescue,” Serina said quietly, and forced herself to meet his eyes. “But I don’t know what’s between us yet, if anything. And I—I need time to figure it out.”

  She waited for his anger. Expected him to tell her she owed him. Wondered if he might force payment for his sacrifice.

  But he just squeezed her hands. “I understand.”

  The firelight illuminated his face quite clearly, and she could find no anger or even disappointment in his expression. He released her and went back to the fire, and she felt the irrational desire to follow him, wrap her arms around him, and lose herself in him after all.

  But she held her ground.

  “You’re so different,” she mused.

  “From other men?” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  Tongues of flame licked his small pile of wood and leaves. He stared at them intently. “My father was part of a trade delegation to Azura just before I was born. He said it opened his eyes to how backward and oppressive Viridia was. So he and my mother tried to do something about it. They started a secret school for girls in the basement of our house. I guess… I’m different because of what they taught me. How they raised me.”