This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(29)

Rebellion might prove addictive.





Fourteen


Senza tentazioni, senza onore.

Without struggle, there is no glory.



Alessa pinned Dante with a dark glare as Tomo and Renata left.

Leaning against the archway, Dante raised a bright green apple to his lips, entirely nonplussed by the staring war she’d initiated.

“I told you to wait upstairs.”

He shrugged. “I was going to, but it turns out half this place wants you dead, so I figured you could use an escort.”

The only sound was an occasional crunch as he casually chomped away, impervious to her goal of burning holes in his face through force of will.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

Cocking her head to be sure her mentors were out of earshot, Alessa pushed loose dark waves of hair behind her shoulders. “Renata is debating whether to kill me.”

Dante froze, teeth sunk into the fruit’s white flesh. He finished the bite and swallowed. “And?”

“And? That’s all you have to say?”

“If I lay a hand on her, they’ll hang me.”

“Well, you’re safe, because I told her if my death becomes necessary, I’ll do it myself.”

He stared into the distance. “Huh. Then how would I get paid?”

“I cannot believe I am paying you for this.”

He tore another chunk from the apple, garbling his words. “If you wanted a yes ma’am, no ma’am kind of guard, you had plenty to choose from.”

“Oh, I certainly don’t expect that.” She rolled her eyes. “But a little sympathy wouldn’t kill you.”

“Not much can kill me,” he said with a flinty smile. “And sympathy wasn’t in the job description.”

“Neither was talking back.”

“I go above and beyond.” Dante shrugged. “Pick your next victim?”

“No.” She glowered, even though she’d had the same thought a hundred times. “As you suggested, I’m trying something new. Are you willing to stay on a bit longer?”

“How much longer?” Dante asked, squinting.

“I promised them a decision by Carnevale.”

He threw his head back with a sigh. “This Fortezza pass better be written in gold.”

“I’ll sign it in blood. Now, come on. Renata’s always tougher on me when she’s in a bad mood. I don’t need to be late, too.”

Outside the training room, Alessa kicked off her shoes and began removing her temple finery while Dante peered through the open doors. Most of the room’s surfaces were padded, and an array of weaponry, real and practice, hung from hooks and holsters on the far wall. Dante let out a soft sound of longing as he spotted the collection of ceremonial daggers.

Her temple dress slipped down to her waist easily enough, but she had to squirm to get it over her hips. As the fabric slipped down to pool at her feet, Dante turned back, his eyes lit with desire—for knives, not her—and her knees went wobbly.

Jerking his head up, Dante stared at the wall above her. “What kind of training?”

She shouldn’t have, but she blushed. Her thin, form-fitting training attire was crafted for freedom of movement, not modesty, but it covered everything it had to. “Fencing, I hope. I have a bo and sword, too, but they’re much heavier.”

At that, he looked at her with a curious half smile. “You know how to use a sword?”

In a perfect world, she’d whip a broadsword from its scabbard and prick his neck with a sardonic Of course, don’t you? but even if she had one within reach, her arms would likely give out. Instead, she propped her hands on her hips. “I’m no master swordsman, but I know how to swing it around a bit.”

Renata cleared her throat from inside the room. Her eyebrows flew up as Dante followed Alessa inside and found a corner to lurk in. Alessa had expected him to wait in the foyer, but she hadn’t told him to, and now that he’d invited himself in, she’d be damned if she let Renata catch her surprise.

Renata picked up a practice bo, and Alessa’s heart plummeted. Taller than she was, and almost too thick for her fingers to wrap around, there was a solid core beneath the cork coating. Practice weaponry might not inflict true damage, but it meant they were going to spar.

Renata wasn’t being intentionally cruel. She didn’t know about Alessa’s injuries, but that wouldn’t make the hits hurt any less. Ah, well. The scarabeo wouldn’t take pity on her, so there was no point asking Renata to.

Alessa raised the bo, vividly aware of her audience. This was her chance to show Dante that she was more than a weepy girl. She wasn’t good, really, but she had nowhere to go but up in his estimation. Not that she cared.

The lesson started with a warm-up, both women swinging and thrusting at open air. Each movement brought twinges of pain, but the steady flow warmed and stretched her tight muscles, so it wasn’t all bad.

Renata spun, swinging at the back of Alessa’s leg.

Her knee buckled, and she hit the mat with a yelp.

Spoke too soon. Still, she could get through this. She would. She had to.

Gritting her teeth, Alessa got a few hits in before Renata knocked her down again with a thump to the gut. Thankfully, the blow only knocked the wind out of her.