This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(101)

Kaleb made a face. “Just let me do it already.”

Kamaria glared. “Do what?”

“Take his place. Obviously. We all know why she’s a mess. I’ll take a snooze behind bars, and you’ll be able to keep your mind on the fight.”

Alessa wrinkled her brow. “I don’t think the people of Saverio will trade their Fonte for a ghiotte.”

“They don’t have to know,” Kaleb said grimly. “One man in a crypt is as good as another if you’re afraid to get too close.”

“If people found out—”

“They lock the Fortezza until the battle is over, and anyone who tries to open the gates after midnight tonight gets kicked out. All I have to do is avoid turning around until the gates are shut, and it’s done. It’s a win-win, really. For everyone but me.”

“Why would you do that?”

Kaleb picked at his fingernails. “He’ll be a lot more useful than me on that peak. I can’t say I was looking forward to fighting, but it turns out I’m even less excited to sit around and hide under blankets like a worthless lump. So, give him a sword and shove me in with the dead. At least I’ll be helping in some way.”

“And how do you suggest we switch you without anyone noticing?” Kamaria asked.

Kaleb collapsed into his chair. “Do you expect me to do all the work here?”

“I have an idea.” Alessa lit up with hope. “I happen to have a brother who owes me a favor.”



* * *



“Well?” Kaleb asked, stepping out from behind Alessa’s screen. “How do I look?” In Dante’s clothing, with his hair darkened by grease, Kaleb could have tricked most people into thinking he was Dante. Not Alessa, though. Maybe, if she didn’t look straight at him. No, not even then. But his disguise would have to be good enough.

As far as Renata and Tomo knew, Alessa, Kaleb, Kamaria, and Josef were holed up in her suite, strategizing and exchanging last-minute advice. It wasn’t entirely false. They just had another victory to secure first.

Kaleb leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and glared at Josef and Kamaria. “Not bad, eh?”

“Spot on,” Alessa said. It felt wrong to laugh at a time like this, but they were all nervous, and laughter might be the best release.

Kamaria jabbed Kaleb in the side. “You just have to lie down and not move. This isn’t the time to get cocky.”

Kaleb looked down his nose at Kamaria and picked up a large, hunter green cloak with a magenta lining, swooping it over his shoulders. “Kammy, I was born cocky.”

“Gross.” Kamaria made a gagging face. In tan-colored pants tied at the waist with twine, her hair covered by a plaid cap, Kamaria looked like the world’s prettiest delivery boy. With any luck, no one would recognize her and wonder why so many Fontes were wandering around the crypts hours before the Cittadella was locked in preparation for Divorando.

“Can we please stay on task?” Alessa asked. “Josef, you’ll be waiting. Kamaria?”

“Ready.” Kamaria pulled a matchbox from her pocket and struck a match. With a flare, she made the flickering spot of fire hop from the match to a lantern waiting on the table nearby, growing and shrinking the flame until it was precisely as she wanted it. “This will be fun.”

“If we don’t get caught,” Alessa said.

“What are they going to do?” Kaleb said. “Banish us? Too late now. They lock up at midnight. No one in, no one out until the war is won. Or lost. Please don’t lose, though. I’m going to be so mad if I spend my last days in some nasty jail cell.”

Alessa blew out a breath. “I guess we’re ready, then.”

Kamaria gave Alessa a saucy wink and tipped her cap.

Below the Cittadella, the main tunnel rumbled with voices. The air was thick with shared breath and the constant noise of people. People, everywhere.

Alessa and Kaleb stopped frequently to accept words of encouragement and share sympathetic smiles with the Altarians, who were mixed in with Saverians.

On Alessa’s arm, Kaleb flashed grins and blew kisses, making a spectacle of waving his cloak around to be sure everyone saw him in it.

The gates were open for one more hour.

They turned the final corridor to the crypts, and found the entrance blocked by a crowd of civilians and a half dozen robed cult members, including Ivini.

One of the robed people was Adrick. Giving Alessa a pointed look, he raised a hand as though to scratch his ear, signing one-handed, “I tried.”

Alessa gritted her teeth. Adrick’s only job had been convincing Ivini to let him stand guard over the ghiotte for the night. He was supposed to be alone. Instead, it was a veritable party of everyone she didn’t want to see.

“Ah, Finestra, Fonte,” Ivini said, his eyes glittering at the sight of Alessa and Kaleb. “What brings you down here?”

Alessa smiled with benign grace. “One last visit to pray over the creature, Padre. By blessing him, I hope to mitigate the pall he casts over our Fortezza.”

“Wonderful,” Ivini breathed. “We came to do the same. You must have heard, as I did, that the brave soldiers who were guarding him had to report for battle duty, but no fear, we promised to take over. We’ll make sure the prisoner is watched properly.”