Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(25)

“I think they’re doing the black dress today,” Angeline said as she plodded along beside Nomi. “That one isn’t as structured. It shouldn’t be too much of a chore.”

“Thanks,” Nomi said. Her handmaiden knew how much she loathed the fittings.

“I think you should wear that one for the race,” Angeline said thoughtfully. “It will sparkle in the moonlight.”

“Have you ever seen it? The race, I mean?” Nomi asked.

“Papa let me watch from the upstairs window once. It was mad. A horse race through city streets… It’s so famous people come from all over the world to watch. And you’ll get one of the best views in all of Bellaqua. The Superior and his entourage always watch from the Bell Tower, near the finish line.”

They reached the door just as someone pushed it open from the inside. Nomi took a hasty step back to avoid a collision.

Maris stopped abruptly, nearly treading on Nomi’s toes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were right there.”

Nomi waved her off. “It’s fine. No harm done.”

Maris brushed her curtain of black hair behind her ear. She was the tallest of the new Graces by a good margin; Nomi suspected she was almost as tall as the Heir himself. At the moment, she seemed even more imposing, in a statuesque green gown covered in tiny, spiky silver studs.

“That dress looks lethal,” Nomi commented as Maris shifted and the silver hardware caught the light. Angeline stared at it with an appreciative look.

“Better suited for dinner parties than balls,” Maris agreed. “It’s my favorite. Gives me the illusion I can maintain some distance.”

The response surprised Nomi. Wasn’t trying to get closer to the Heir the whole point?

Maris’s handmaiden chose that moment to approach. “It’s time for your harp practice.”

Maris nodded and, with a little shrug at Nomi, followed the handmaiden down the hall.

“You’ve got a dance lesson after,” Angeline said. “I’ll come get you when it’s time.”

Nomi nodded her thanks, but her stomach churned. Dance lesson. This would be her first. At least it wouldn’t be with the Heir; he had not yet returned to the palazzo.

As soon as Nomi stepped into the dressmaker’s room, a handful of seamstresses swarmed her. Her clothes disappeared within moments. Nomi was placed on a raised dais in the center of the dim room, shivering in her shift, as the women whirled around her.

“Tsk, tsk. So thin,” the dressmaker muttered as she dropped the black gown over Nomi’s head. She sniffed down her nose at the way the drape of the dress enveloped Nomi’s slight frame. “This dress wasn’t designed for a handmaiden’s figure.”

Over the past few fittings, the seamstresses had made it clear that they didn’t approve of her lowly origins. But the woman was right about the gown.

It would have fit Serina perfectly.

“More pins!” the dressmaker yelled.

Nomi kept her spine rigid and her face blank. She’d have preferred to rip the dress off and throw it at the dressmaker’s feet, especially when the woman had “accidentally” pricked her with a pin. But Serina would have kept calm in this situation, and for her sake, Nomi was determined to do the same.

Another pin jabbed into Nomi’s thigh, drawing blood. She winced, but she didn’t give the seamstress the satisfaction of making a sound. The gown Serina had chosen for her was a deep silvery black, like a star-studded sky, and Nomi might have actually liked it, if the neckline didn’t dip nearly to her navel and the waist didn’t cinch so tight.

“There,” the dressmaker said. “That’ll do.” She stepped back and surveyed the hemming and tucking. Her narrowed eyes saw nothing but the form of the dress. Nomi could have as easily been a straw mannequin in the back of a shop.

Ines stepped into the room as Nomi undressed. “Wait, leave it on,” she said. “You’re due for your dance lesson. A long dress and some well-placed pins will help you learn.”

Nomi nodded calmly, but inside her heart was spitting flame.

Ines didn’t wait for Angeline, instead leading Nomi out of the Graces’ chambers herself. Nomi had almost unraveled the Graces’ labyrinth, but the rest of the palace was still a mystery—probably because she paid more attention to the servants than her surroundings. Despite what Rosario had said, she still fantasized that Serina was living in the palace in some punishing, menial role, and that someday, if Nomi were patient, their paths would cross. But so far, Nomi had seen no hint of her sister.

She followed Ines through corridor after corridor, her dress whispering against the tile. Eventually, they found themselves in a small music room.

The walls shone with rose-threaded wallpaper and were hung with a vast array of instruments. Skylights brightened the room. A piano sat in one corner with a woman in muted orange bent over its keys, coaxing out a melody. The furniture had been cleared, and in the center of the room, Cassia twirled in Asa’s arms. A dance instructor stood to one side, calling out frequent instructions.

Asa? They were practicing with Asa?

Nomi slammed to a stop in the doorway, shock running through her.

Asa caught sight of her and faltered. Cassia hissed when he tread on her foot. A blush crept up Nomi’s cheeks.