Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(10)

Serina had seen, though. She knew her sister had learned more than how to be a handmaiden. But Nomi had never learned how to be a Grace. It went deeper than the dancing and embroidery and harp playing. Nomi had never learned the temperament of submission.

Not as Serina had.

He should have chosen me.

Serina grabbed three uniforms for herself and stacked several pairs of shoes on top. Back in the bedroom, she hung the dresses carefully in their armoire, laying a flowing flowered dress out on the foot of Nomi’s bed. Then she shook her sister’s shoulder.

Nomi woke slowly, and as she sat up, Serina could see the dried tears that stained her cheeks. She knew Nomi had been awake most of the night; Serina had heard her shifting and sighing. A part of her wanted to hug her sister, to hold her close and tell her everything would be okay. But she was still too angry, her pride too raw.

“We need to clean you up,” Serina said briskly. She headed for their small lavatory, returning with a warm, damp cloth to clean her sister’s face.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Nomi said. It wasn’t a question, but her wide eyes tracked Serina’s face, begging her to contradict it.

Serina shook her head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Nomi’s eyes reddened, as if she were about to cry again.

Serina prodded her toward the washroom. “You have breakfast on the terrace in fifteen minutes, and then a dress fitting.”

“I need a minute,” Nomi said, rubbing her forehead. “I—I don’t think I can eat.”

“It’s not optional.” Serina thrust the floral dress into her sister’s hands.

Nomi had always been the one to help Serina into nice dresses, do her makeup, fix her hair. Everything felt alien now. Serina couldn’t give herself time to think about it.

Nomi stared at the dress. “I can’t wear this. It’s practically transparent.”

“It’s not. It’s tasteful.” Serina put her hands to her hips. “You’re not a servant anymore. You have to dress to entice. You have to—”

“I don’t want to entice,” Nomi countered. “I would never wear this dress.”

“Maybe not, but I would,” Serina stated flatly.

A charged moment passed, and then with a huff, Nomi did as she was told. It was a little big, but Serina wound a length of ribbon around Nomi’s waist, up under her breasts, and tied it behind her neck. The makeshift halter accentuated her sister’s curves.

“I can hardly breathe,” Nomi complained.

“I haven’t taken a full breath in years,” Serina snapped. “You’ll get used to it.” She donned her own dress, plain brown with a white apron. The fabric was scratchy and the color hideous.

When she sat Nomi down before the vanity and opened the cosmetics bag, Nomi reached for a stick of kohl. “I’ll do it,” she said. “You don’t know how.” For years, Nomi had been the one to do Serina’s makeup.

“You’ll have to teach me.” Serina couldn’t help studying her sister’s reflection in comparison to her own, wondering what had tipped the scales in Nomi’s favor. Her sister’s clear amber eyes held more fire than Serina’s darker brown ones, but Serina’s skin was flawless, her hair shining and thick. Nomi’s cheeks had a ruddy tinge, and her lips were pressed tightly together, thinning them. She looked tired and anxious, and so very young.

“Play up your eyes,” Serina ordered. “They’re your strongest feature.” She sat down on the end of the bed. She was probably supposed to make up the sheets, tidy the room, but she watched Nomi do her makeup instead.

When Nomi finished, she made a face at Serina in the mirror. “I look ridiculous in this much makeup.”

“You look fine.” Serina got up and brushed out Nomi’s hair. The ends were dry, and the rest needed a tonic to brighten it. But it was thick, like Serina’s. She helped Nomi curl it into a demure bun at the nape of her neck. Then Nomi insisted on braiding Serina’s hair.

Now they looked their parts: Serina the handmaiden, Nomi the Grace.

They wore matching, miserable frowns.

“Go,” Serina said. “I have to clean up.”

Nomi didn’t move. “Serina? I am so, so sorry.”

Serina’s heart cracked at the fear in Nomi’s eyes. She knew she should say something reassuring, that she should stop being so cold. But she was dealing with their new reality too.

With a sigh, she said, “I know.”

Nomi’s gaze fixed on something over Serina’s shoulder in the mirror. She turned, blanching. Serina followed her gaze and saw it. The book, sitting on the bedside table, where anyone could see it.

Serina shot Nomi a look as she hurried over and snatched it up. “You need to hide this. Or dump it out the window. It’s dangerous, Nomi.”

Serina held out the book, but when she saw the cover, she hesitated. Why did it look so familiar? She sank to the bed and ran a hand across the letters. Nomi sat down beside her. “It’s the book of legends. Same as Renzo’s. I saw it and I couldn’t help myself. Everything is so different here, and seeing it… I felt like I’d found a piece of home.”

Despite herself, Serina softened. She remembered those secret nights when Nomi and Renzo had read to her, their voices bright as candle flames, wards against the dark. Serina opened the book and found the first story. “‘The Lovebirds,’ right? It was always my favorite.”