This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(40)

Renata stepped down with a thump.

Alessa had assumed they’d draw straws to decide which of the Fontes would go first. Not Tomo. He hadn’t said anything about volunteering until they had a room full of witnesses, and now Alessa and Renata couldn’t argue without revealing their fear. They had no choice but to follow his lead.

Renata gave a jerky nod and turned to Alessa. “Strategy?”

Renata might never have truly understood Alessa before, but now someone she loved was threatened. Her fear was palpable.

Alessa recited from memory. “Steady hands, slow breathing, light touch, inner calm.”

“How?”

“Fingertips only.”

“When you sense the power?”

“Control and contain.”

Tomo extended his hands, palms up, as Alessa walked over to him.

Every eye in the room followed the movement as Alessa removed her gloves. Her palms were slick with sweat.

She lifted her gaze but didn’t quite meet Tomo’s eyes. She couldn’t. The thought of watching his light go dark— No. She wouldn’t even think it.

He was waiting.

Everyone was waiting.

With a deep breath, Alessa reached her fingertips toward his.





Twenty


Chi semina spine, non vada scalzo.

If you scatter thorns, don’t go barefoot.

DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 27


The wind whistled outside as night fell, but the air in Tomo’s room tasted as stale as the crypt.

Propped up in bed on a pile of pillows, his eyes were black pools of shadow against his ashen skin.

From his bedside, Renata turned as Alessa entered on whisper-soft feet. “He’s resting,” Renata said in warning.

“I won’t stay. I just needed to see…”

“Come in, child.” A wan smile spread across Tomo’s face and he released Renata’s hand. “Put on some tea, won’t you, love?”

Renata shot Alessa a sharp look as she left the room.

“Sit, sit. Leave your guilt outside,” Tomo said. “I’m a weak old man, and I was overdue for one of my spells. A bit too much excitement, that’s all.” He patted the bed beside him, but she perched in a brocade chair instead. He might want to show that he wasn’t afraid of her, but she was afraid of herself.

“You aren’t old, Tomo.”

He smiled. “Age is relative. When I was your age, I saw a man of forty as a day shy of a hundred.”

“I’m just thankful you’re okay. I thought—” She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory of the color leaching from his face. “You were very brave to volunteer.”

He tutted. “I only made it worse. Renata said you had to call off the remainder of the lesson.”

“Everyone was worried about you. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Get some rest. I can manage without you.”

His eyes drifted shut. “I know you can. You’re meant to bring people together, Alessa.”

With the echo of her name in her ears, Alessa slipped out of the room, wiping her eyes.

“Will he be okay?” Dante asked.

“I don’t know, but if the Fontes weren’t terrified before, they are now.”

“Did you even touch him? It happened so fast I couldn’t tell.”

“Barely. It doesn’t matter. Today was supposed to reassure them. Instead they saw the last Fonte suffer a heart spasm the moment we touched. I’ll be fortunate if they show up for tomorrow’s training at all.”

As they made their way upstairs, sobs, faint but unmistakable, echoed from the library. Alessa held up a hand to warn Dante.

“I’ll volunteer,” came Josef’s voice from inside. “You go home with your family.”

Alessa tried to retreat, inching backward, but ran into a Dante-shaped wall.

“And what about your family?” Nina asked. “Haven’t they lost enough?”

“I’m sure whoever she chooses will be … fine,” Josef said, his tone soothing.

“Fine? Ending up like Tomo, or worse?” Nina sniffed loudly. “Renata was a good Finestra and she still broke him. Can you imagine what this one will do?”

This one. Alessa hugged herself.

“I’m older and stronger than you. I can take it.”

“Kaleb should do it. No one would miss him.” From her tone, Nina knew Kaleb would never volunteer. He’d be gone before Alessa finished thanking those who did. “I’ll do it.” Nina’s voice trembled, and Alessa could easily picture her raising her pointed little chin, tears glistening on her copper-colored lashes. A portrait of a martyr.

Dante let out a sympathetic breath.

Alessa couldn’t fight the thread of envy that came with the guilt. Poor, delicate Nina, whose brave sacrifice made people want to protect her.

But not Alessa. People only helped her when she bribed them with coin or because the gods demanded they do so. Sympathy, kindness, love, and friendship—all those precious human experiences that made for a full life—those were for other people, not her.

She tried to hustle away as their footsteps neared, but there wasn’t time to make it to her suite before the couple stepped out of the room.