This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(79)

Kamaria was the most likely to volunteer, and if Alessa was choosing, she’d be her top choice. But the whiff of treason left by Shomari’s defection was a variable she couldn’t dismiss.

Kaleb wasn’t likely to volunteer. Nina was so fragile. Saida’s gift was tricky to use. Josef would be a strong battle partner, but in his time at the Cittadella, she’d barely seen him smile. It shouldn’t matter, but the thought of facing Divorando without a few laughs was rather depressing.

By the second hour, Alessa had an entire halo of lacy petals around the base of her topknot and had moved on to gathering a bouquet.

“How long is this going to take?” Dante grumbled. “You have pollen in your hair, by the way.”

Alessa brushed at it, but she couldn’t see the top of her head. “Emer and Ilsi were approved within a half hour, but it took an entire day before the Consiglio cleared Hugo. I thought for sure they were going to send him home and make me choose again.”

Dante stopped pacing. “You never talk about him.”

“He wasn’t the most interesting person. He was so bland that he might as well have been a bowl of vanilla pudding. I chose him because I was tired of killing people I liked.”

“Oh. Is today worse or better, then?”

“Both?” she admitted. “I like them. All of them. Even Kaleb. I have more control over my power now, but I’m still asking someone to face Armageddon.”

A line formed between Dante’s eyebrows as he walked over to tilt her chin—down, not up, alas—and blew on her hair, gently de-pollinating her.

“Did you know that Finestra is a base word for other words?” She couldn’t help herself. “Like defenestration.”

Dante stopped blowing. “Yes.” He sounded wary. Smart of him. “It means to throw someone out of a window.”

She snickered. “Or to break a window. It’s a metaphor for—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

She fluttered her eyelashes in mock innocence. “Deflowering a virgin.”

Dante couldn’t stop the laugh that burst free. “I want it on the record that I didn’t even touch your flowers.”

“There’s still time.”

“Is this a side effect of forced purity and years with nothing but novels for entertainment?” He tugged his ear. “All these pent-up naughty thoughts finally taking over?”

“Maybe,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Or maybe it reined me in, and I would have been even worse. Can you imagine?”

“Dea help me, I cannot,” Dante said, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead. It promptly slipped back, and Alessa reached to brush it away. His jaw went tight. “I need some exercise.”

With a sigh, Alessa trudged after him to the outdoor training yard around the side of the building. Dante started doing pull-ups, and she strolled closer for a better view.

“Can I help you?” Dante asked.

“I’m sure you could.”

With a huff, he dropped to the ground for push-ups.

“Ever since you called yourself stale bread, I’ve had a wicked craving.”

He paused, shook his head, then pushed back up.

“I adore bread. Especially baguettes. Long, thick, hot and slathered with—”

He hit the ground, shaking with laughter. “Enough. Mercy. You’re a champion of lewd baking metaphors.”

“I haven’t even begun. I grew up in a bakery, you know. Should I detail my obsession with pastries?”

He got to his feet and dusted his palms. “I am not a pastry.”

“Sure you are. One of those mystery pies that could be savory, but actually has a sweet filling under all those layers of crispy dough.”

He squinted at her. “Are you calling me doughy?”

“You started it.”

Someone coughed discreetly. A servant hovering nearby. “Excuse me, miss. Interviews are over and the Fontes are waiting for you.”



* * *



Alessa wasn’t sure what she expected when she entered the library, but she didn’t expect to find Nina sobbing and clinging to Josef, Saida with her head in her hands, Kamaria shouting at everyone to shut up, and Kaleb chugging the contents of a glass decanter that had been half full of vodka the last time Alessa checked.

“Hey!” Dante shouted. When they kept at it, he kicked the door shut with a loud bang that cut through the noise.

“What is going on?” Alessa said.

Everyone began yelling at once. Nina’s wails drowned out whatever Josef was trying to say in his calm, precise way, and Kaleb seemed to be yelling nonsense sounds from pure annoyance while Saida berated him for being immature at a “time like this.”

“Will you shut up already?” Kamaria hollered. “For Dea’s sake. Bunch of headless chickens.”

Alessa took advantage of the decreased volume to ask again.

Kamaria held up a hand to stop anyone from interrupting. “Everyone volunteered. Including me, obviously the best choice.” Alessa’s surge of relief didn’t last long. “But the esteemed old farts of the Consiglio aren’t too thrilled about my brother’s recent decisions—shut up, Kaleb!—so, despite the fact that I am obviously the best choice”—she shouted the last part in Kaleb’s direction—“they unanimously recommended Josef. So Kaleb’s sulking about his wounded pride, Saida’s convinced you need a more supportive Fonte, Nina’s flipping out about Josef being picked, and like I said, I’m obviously the correct choice no matter what a bunch of stuffy old people think, so they all need to cut it out already!”