This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(103)

“He should have protected you.” Her father tugged at his short beard. “Not done … what he did.”

Dante stumbled, catching himself as though he’d almost passed out, and it sent a bolt of panic through Alessa. “I’m glad you object to your son trying to kill the Finestra, but I really must go.”

“We object to our son trying to hurt his sister.” Her mother tugged at a lock of gray-threaded hair come loose from her bun. “I was raised to believe it was my duty to forsake my child if he or she was chosen. But I had a duty to you as well. I knew—” She waved a hand. “I knew he visited, and I never asked. I was afraid of what I’d hear. And now…” She pressed a hand to her mouth, her breath hissing. “I should have asked. I should have come.”

“Did the ghiotte—did he harm you?” Papa asked.

“No,” Alessa said. She didn’t know if Dante was fully aware of her words, but she said them for him, too. “He protected me. Always.”

“When I think of how lonely you must have been to welcome him into your confidence—”

Adrick jogged up, alarm written across his face as he took in the family reunion. “I already apologized, Papa. Let her go. She’s got important stuff to do.”

Alessa shot Adrick a desperate look, her knees buckling under Dante’s weight.

“At least take these.” Her mother held out a bundle of envelopes bound with string.

“Okay, Mama, let them go.” Adrick took the parcel and bent to wedge it into the pocket of Dante’s cloak, blanching as he peeked beneath the hood.

Mama’s brow furrowed as Dante’s bowed head lolled forward.

They needed to get him inside. Now.

“Mama, Papa,” Alessa whispered, holding them with her gaze. “If you’ve ever believed me about anything, trust me on this. He’s Dea’s child, as much as you or I. Probably more. I know what the Verità says, but—”

“If you say it, we believe you,” Mama said.

Desperate relief flooded Alessa’s body. “Then help me.”

They might not have fully understood, but her parents weren’t fools.

“May I pray with you, Finestra?” her mother asked loudly. “My husband and son would like to pray with our good Fonte.”

Papa threw his beefy arms wide, and Alessa shoved Dante at him. A Finestra couldn’t touch anyone but their Fonte, but a Fonte wasn’t limited the same way.

With a jovial grin, Papa dragged Dante’s arm around his shoulders, while Adrick gave his arm a hearty squeeze, and together, they walked him toward the gate.

Josef and Kamaria slipped past, while Alessa pretended to listen to her mother’s rambling prayer.

When they were nearly to the gate, Mama’s prayer trailed off. Her eyes welled with tears. “Be safe, my sweet girl.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alessa hurried to catch up with Papa and Dante.

At the gate to the Cittadella, her father clapped Dante on the back, practically knocking him into Josef.

Kamaria’s gift again made every lantern in the corridor sputter out, drawing scattered screams from every direction as they tumbled inside. Adrick and Josef shared the load of getting Dante up the stairs, every step seeming higher than the last, until they reached the main floor and Adrick had to turn back. Alessa took over, and together they minced across the courtyard, their odd clothing and stilted movements drawing a confused stare from a passing guard.

Alessa grinned widely. “Too many toasts, but a little espresso will sort him right out!”

The guard shrugged.

Upstairs, Kamaria hobbled around, fetching soap and juice while Josef steadied Dante so Alessa could help him out of his filthy clothes.

Alessa looked up from trying to wrench off Dante’s shoes at a gasp from the doorway.

“I wasn’t looking, Josef, I wasn’t looking!” Nina covered her eyes.

Josef sighed and shook his head.

“Did I do all right?” Nina wiggled with pride. “I know my acting was a bit over the top, but I had to commit, or it would never be convincing. Josef, you were so dashing! The bars bent back in place beautifully, and I think the scream really helped.”

“It did,” Alessa said. “Thank you.”

Nina’s lip trembled. “Least I could do. I’m really—”

“You can apologize after the battle, okay?”

Tears glittered on Nina’s coppery lashes. “Or during?”

Alessa smiled. “Sure. We’re bound to have a few breaks, right?”

Kamaria deposited a tray of steaming bowls and mugs on the table, and swiped the pile of Dante’s filthy, torn clothing from the floor. “I’ll toss these.”

Alessa didn’t even bother taking off her own clothes when she and Josef got Dante down to the salt baths, wading into the water fully dressed. “I’ll yell if I need you.”

Josef nodded. “I’ll bring down the broth.”

One arm around his chest, Alessa cradled Dante in the water, using her other hand to wet his hair and stroke it back from his face.

Her heart tightened at the memory of when she was the injured one soaking while Dante lounged on the stairs, scoffing at her theories about ghiotte. She couldn’t remember what she’d said, but her words must have stung, adding another layer of cuts on top of a lifetime of scars. How many times had Dante bit his tongue while people like her discussed how evil he was, how selfish and horrible his parents had been?