This Vicious Grace (The Last Finestra #1)(92)

“Using his wicked wiles, he secured a spot by our Finestra’s side, tainting her magic and weakening our Fontes.” Ivini motioned as though shielding his eyes against Dante’s wickedness. “A formal execution is too good for the creature, but my flock will dispose of it.”

“No,” Alessa gasped. “That’s not—We cannot—”

Tomo coughed, his look pleading with her. “Finestra, you are a compassionate soul, but perhaps we should let cooler heads prevail.”

Renata gripped her tighter. “Hold. Your. Tongue.”

There was nothing she could say. Nothing she could do. If she showed mercy—if anyone realized she’d known and allowed Dante to stay—or worse, that she’d welcomed him into her arms …

“There will be no killing here today.” Tomo’s calm demeanor was a splash of cool water on the fires raging all around. “The Blessing of the Troops should not be tainted by such ugliness.”

Ivini, the picture of indignant horror, seemed to realize his plan to become Saverio’s avenging angel, executioner of demons, was crumbling. “But Signor. He brought evil into this holy place. Tainted her purity with his sin. He deserves to be punished.”

“And I expect the Consiglio will agree, but that decision is up to them, not you,” Renata said.

Alessa shook with rage and fear. They were trying, but they could only do so much.

Ivini pivoted to don the role of guilt-stricken martyr. “La Finestra sul Divino. Your benevolence is inspiring. I beg you, let me transport the creature to the continent, then. Even if it means my own death. My final act of penance for how I have wronged my savior.” A gratified smile toyed at his lips as scattered voices from the crowd cried out in protest.

“We would not have you risk yourself, Padre,” Renata said with a benign smile. “We’ll let the Consiglio decide what the appropriate punishment should be. Now, Captain, take the prisoner inside and wait for further orders.”

Alessa tensed, half afraid, half hoping Dante would fight his way free from the guards.

His eyes were lifeless as they turned him toward the Cittadella.

A third soldier followed, prodding him in the back with her sword. “You try to run, we’ll kill you.”

Alessa’s heart squeezed. She had no leverage but to refuse to fight if they didn’t release him. And no one would believe her. If she didn’t fight, Dante would die along with everyone else.

All she could do was to make sure he wasn’t executed. At least, inside the Cittadella, he’d be protected until she figured out how to release him or convince the Consiglio to show mercy. When Divorando was over, he could flee to the continent, change his appearance, hide out for a few years until people forgot.

“Shall we finish?” Renata stepped into the space where Dante had been moments before.

“I’d like to say something to the Finestra first,” Ivini said.

“Haven’t you said enough?” Alessa said.

Renata squeezed, hard.

He’d won. What else could he want? To accuse her again? Demand Kaleb dance for them to prove he was truly alive?

Ivini’s face sagged with anguish, and he dropped to his knees. Behind him, robed figures followed suit, heads bowed. “Finestra. Can you ever forgive me for casting aspersions on you? Truly, I only hoped to serve Dea. It’s clear now that Crollo saw your incredible potential, the gift that is your strength, and he cowered in fear. Sending one of his minions to hobble you only proves your worthiness. I should have had faith. I should have known. I am so deeply sorry. If you banish me, I will go tonight.”

Renata spoke before Alessa could tell him to leap from the nearest cliff. “That won’t be necessary, Padre. After all, to err is human.”

“To forgive, divine,” Ivini breathed. “Finestra, can you ever forgive me?”

The answer was no. Definitely not. But Renata was clever, and she had a plan. Alessa didn’t know what it was, but she wouldn’t risk ruining it.

Alessa gave her nemesis the widest, most painful smile of her life. “Crollo has made fools of many better men than you. What kind of Finestra would I be to punish a holy man trying to protect his people?”

Damn him, Ivini wept.

Every fake tear that rolled down his face stoked her fury higher, but she had to credit his acting skills.

Ivini didn’t want forgiveness. He wanted power. He’d positioned himself against her when she was failing, kicked her when she was down, conspired against her and stolen her own guards’ loyalty. Now that she had a Fonte, alive, Ivini had found a scapegoat. And so, her greatest foe stepped into his new role as her staunch defender and humble supplicant. Whatever it took.

No more assassinations. No more poison. She had a way out, and Ivini realigned himself with a new cause to rally his sheep.

The drill sergeant shouted a command, and the troops snapped to attention with a deafening clamor. In perfect, regimented symmetry, Alessa’s army took a knee, fists thumping against their chests.

This time, everyone looked directly at her.

“Congratulations, Finestra.” Renata spoke for Alessa’s ears alone. “They love you. They’ll fight to the death for you. And that is how you win a war.”

At what cost?

“Win the battle, and all is forgiven. You’ve never been more powerful,” Renata said. “Your people will do anything you ask of them.”