This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(72)

Saida slapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn’t stop a high-pitched squeak.

Kamaria rolled her eyes. “You’ve been living without parents for too long if you think anyone would believe that.”

“You were touching him,” Nina said. “And he was smiling.”

Well, that sounded worse than she probably meant it to.

Saida wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, but she was the only one amused. Nina looked like she’d been slapped, Josef wore the outrage of a temple monk who’d wandered into the women’s baths by accident, and Kaleb still looked furious.

“Why were you touching him?” Kaleb said. “And why did he like it?”

Alessa’s mouth worked, but no brilliance came to mind. “It was a grimace of pain.”

“That’s not what I saw,” Nina said.

“He’s a fighter. He’s tough.” A half-truth.

It didn’t seem to appease them. Time for something slightly closer to the truth.

“Dante’s been helping me practice with my power.”

“Why?” Kaleb demanded.

Dante cleared his throat. “Any sacrifice for the good of Saverio. Dea calls, I answer.”

Alessa subtly stepped on his foot.

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize you were devout.”

“More importantly, how?” Kamaria said, studying Dante in a way that made Alessa uncomfortable. “He doesn’t have a gift.”

“No, of course not.” Alessa knew she was protesting too vehemently, but she couldn’t rein it in. “But I can absorb other talents while he gives feedback on … pain levels. Like a, um, a pain gauge.”

Nina cocked her head. “I would have thought a Finestra’s touch would be even worse for a regular person. That’s a really generous sacrifice to make.”

“Decent of you.” Kaleb rested the sword on the ground. “But you’re still an ass.”

Dante muttered something in the old language, and Alessa smiled brightly. “Well, now that we’ve settled that, I hope we can all agree to keep this quiet. I mean, it’s a little unorthodox, but hey, anything that helps, right?”

She bit her cheek as she waited, but the grudging acceptance on their faces didn’t slide back into anger.

“We came to invite you to join our game.” Nina said, sounding more confrontational than usual.

“Oh,” Alessa said, momentarily thrown. “And you’ve changed your mind?”

Kamaria rolled her eyes. “No. I mean, who here hasn’t been caught while … eh, practicing … before, hmm?”

Alessa’s cheeks flamed. “I—Thank you. We’d love to.”



* * *



Josef was a brilliant card player, but a terrible loser. With a near-mystical ability to remember who held every card and strategize accordingly, he’d won the first three rounds, sitting straighter with every victory, unable to hide his utter delight, but he’d been sulking since Kaleb swiped his best card. Nina, on the other hand, was terrible at the game but cheered for everyone, regardless of which team they were on or whether their victory came at her expense.

Kaleb rolled the dice. “Stop being so happy every time I beat you, Nina. It really takes the fun out of it.”

Nina fluffed her skirts with an impish grin. “That’s why I do it.”

“I fold,” said Saida with a heavy sigh. “Josef stole all my best cards. Again.”

Alessa selected a card with Crollo on it from the top of the pile and added it to her hand, then looked over her shoulder at Dante, who’d opted out of the game, insisting he was on the job. He craned his neck to see her hand, scratched his nose with two fingers, and pointedly looked at Kaleb.

Alessa cleared her throat with a delicate cough. “I believe it is my turn, Kaleb. Not yours. And before I roll, I would like to steal a card.”

Kaleb grumbled as he flicked the card in question across the table. “You said you’d never played before. How are you so good already?”

Alessa bit her lip, placing a pair of Dea and Crollo cards on the table. “Blessed by the gods, I suppose.”

Dante shifted from one foot to the other.

Kaleb’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Are you two conspiring?”

Saida groaned. “You can’t accuse everyone of cheating because you’re losing, Kaleb.”

“I’m not accusing everyone, just the Finestra.”

“Maybe you should write down a recipe instead of being a poor loser. I’m still waiting on your contribution to my project.”

Kaleb made a face. “I told you, I don’t know how to bake. Desserts show up in my house and I don’t ask questions.”

A young woman in an apron rapped on the door. “Beg your pardon, but the lady’s timer went off.”

“Oh,” Saida said. “My rosogolla is finished cooling!”

Apparently, Saida had charmed her way into the kitchens earlier to make dessert. She returned a minute later with a large pan, and the room filled with the scent of milk and sugar as she began spooning fluffy white balls onto small plates. “I thought we could use a treat.”

Kaleb grumbled. “A clever distraction so you can peek at our cards.”