This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(91)

“I didn’t think he could even sit up,” Renata said as Dante descended the stairs to the courtyard. “How’d you get him into his armor?”

Dante flipped up the visor.

“Oh,” Renata said. “Brilliant.”

Dante flipped it back down as Captain Papatonis marched in to escort them to the piazza.

Alessa had to admit it was impressive—the thousands of armored soldiers in perfect lines, standing at attention in the piazza. And if she let out an ooh of admiration when they began their first series of drills, it was drowned out by the watching crowd’s awe.

As they moved into the second series, her gaze caught on a flutter of white. Icy fingers crawled up Alessa’s spine as Ivini led a line of robed figures into the piazza.

He’d never brought anything good into her life before, and she doubted he was here to make amends, but the Fratellanza made no move to disrupt anything, merely filling in the little bit of empty space on one side. She couldn’t exactly have him expelled because her neck prickled with warning.

Renata wasn’t pleased either and said something to Captain Papatonis that sent him toward Ivini, a cold look of determination on his face.

Alessa sent Ivini one last glare, poking him full of eye-daggers, then returned her attention to the troops. Ivini had tried his best and failed. He wasn’t worth another moment of her time.

The Captain rejoined them as the exercises concluded, and Alessa stepped forward to take her place for the Blessing. Dante stood slightly behind her on one side, Renata and Tomo on the other.

“Dea, blessed Goddess of Creation,” Alessa began. “We ask you to guide our weapons—”

With a hiss of metal, a guard in the front row drew his.

“Creature of Crollo!” he yelled and sprinted toward them.

Heart in her throat, Alessa fumbled for her ceremonial sword, but Dante drew first, stepping in front of her. To protect her.

“Get back, Finestra,” the Captain yelled, running forward to join Dante as a human shield.

Or so she thought.

But when Captain Papatonis raised his sword, it wasn’t to ward off the mutinous soldier. And Dante was bracing for an attack from the front, not behind.

Alessa screamed a warning, but it was too late.





Forty-One


Chi ha un cattivo nome è mezzo impiccato.

He who has a bad name is half hanged.

DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 11


The hilt of the Captain’s sword smashed into the base of Dante’s skull, and he crumpled to the ground.

Five years of training and every lick of sense flew out the window as Alessa tried to lunge for him, but Renata, who’d never, not once, touched her, held her back with a vise grip around her arm.

“At ease, Captain.” The ice in Renata’s voice stalled Alessa’s fight. “Explain yourself.”

“I assure you, I will,” Captain Papatonis said gravely.

Two soldiers hauled Dante upright by his arms, and the Captain roughly removed his helmet.

“That’s not her Fonte.” With a vicious yank of Dante’s hair, he forced his head up. “It’s an imposter.”

The crowd gasped, recoiling in horror, as if they were witnessing some grotesque specter and not a beautiful man who’d been felled by a cowardly attack from behind.

In that moment, Alessa hated them all.

Tomo laughed uncomfortably. “Oh, dear. Given the circumstances, we decided studying was a better use of Kaleb Toporovsky’s time, so we brought a stand-in, Captain. A harmless little maneuver.”

“You see, Captain? You’ve disarmed him and knocked him unconscious, when you simply could have asked us.” Renata raised her voice. “Dearest, why don’t you send Signor Toporovsky to the balcony?”

Tomo’s cane tapped a frantic beat on the stairs as he hurried away.

Alessa couldn’t breathe for the hundred years it took before Kaleb stepped onto the balcony. Tomo was probably bracing him up from behind, and there was a decent chance he was about to keel over, but Kaleb waved and blew kisses, grinning like the guest of honor at a birthday party. The air rushed back into Alessa’s lungs as thousands of troops and a thousand more civilians looked up to see their Fonte, alive.

“Begging your pardon, Signora,” said the Captain. “But that’s not the only problem.”

Dante opened his eyes with a low groan.

“Allow me.” Ivini stepped forward, half-turned so the crowd could hear his every word. “My apologies for the spectacle, but I had to act when a member of my flock informed me that evil had infiltrated the Cittadella.”

“No,” Alessa said. “That’s not—”

“Quiet,” Renata hissed. “For his sake and yours.”

Without warning, the Captain slashed Dante’s face with his dagger.

Alessa leapt, but Renata was faster. “Enough!”

Blood dripped down Dante’s cheek, puddling on the white stone, but he couldn’t hide his face with his arms pinned and a knife at his throat.

Dea, help me, Alessa begged silently. I don’t know what to do.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head in the tiniest no.

“As you’ll see, that thing,” Ivini continued, “is a ghiotte.”

Dante’s eyes bored into Ivini’s as the wicked gash across his cheek began to knit back together, and the crowd rumbled like the first warnings of a storm.