Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(27)

It was a gift to spend one moment spinning like a child, pretending she was free.

Ines cleared her throat, loudly and pointedly. The piano music stopped. “That will do,” she announced.

With a chuckle, Asa sent Nomi into a last spin and ended the dance with a bow. He smiled, his cheeks as flushed as hers felt. They both were breathing quickly.

Nomi cast her gaze to the floor. Part of her hem had come unpinned and dragged over her silver shoes.

“I’m sorry. I seem to have forgotten myself,” Asa said, not sounding sorry at all. “Thank you for the practice.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence.” Nomi curtsied, her heart falling. Their dance was over, and with it, any opportunity to ask about Serina.

Nomi followed Angeline back to the Graces’ chambers in silence, wondering if she’d get another chance. Praying she would.

When Nomi reached her bedroom, Angeline made short work of the shimmery black dress, now a little bedraggled. “Don’t worry,” the handmaiden said cheerfully. “I’ll have it cleaned and sewn up straightaway so it’s ready for the Premio Belaria.”

Then she helped Nomi into a soft cream tunic and flowing pants.

“Thank you, Angeline,” Nomi said. “May I have a few minutes to myself, please?”

The girl bowed. “Of course. I’ll wait outside.”

As soon as she was alone, Nomi slumped into a chair, elbows on the dressing table, and put her head in her hands. Over and over, the dance lesson played through her mind. She should have found a way to ask Asa about Serina.

Nomi’s frustration bubbled to the surface. She’d hoped to rest for a bit, but she couldn’t lie down. Not while she was thinking of Serina. She stood, clumsily, and knocked a small pot of lip shimmer to the floor. She sighed and picked it up, opening the dressing table’s top drawer to put it away.

As she opened the drawer, she gasped. A book sat half-hidden under a silk scarf and two sticks of kohl.

Nomi slammed the drawer shut, looking around her room in wide-eyed panic. When she was sure no one was watching—the room’s curtains had been drawn and Angeline remained outside—she opened the drawer again slowly.

It was still there. Her fingers caressed the smooth leather, and a tremor passed through her as she drew it out.

A Brief History of Viridia.

Nomi wrapped her arms around herself. A book was a dangerous thing to have—Serina’s removal proved that. So where had it come from?

Before she could stop to think about what she was doing, Nomi stuffed the small volume between her mattress and frame, deep enough that it wouldn’t be disturbed when Angeline changed the sheet. Nomi’s heart pounded madly. She slid to the floor and leaned against the bed.

She felt suddenly like an acrobat balanced on a swaying rope, the world dangerously far below. Someone was playing with her, and she didn’t know the game.





THIRTEEN



SERINA


“ORACLE WANTS TO see the freshies. Come on.” Cliff crossed her arms over her chest and loomed. Serina finished the last bit of bread from her meager lunch and scrambled to her feet. Cliff seemed to be the official handler for new prisoners. She was always the one telling Serina and the others what to do.

Jacana, Gia, and Theodora climbed to their feet after Serina and followed Cliff out of the lava tube. Many of the other women were working—some were collecting oranges and lemons, while others scrounged through the small patch of woods. Cliff caught Serina studying one of the girls, her arms laden with citrus and other plants.

“We’d die without that little bit of extra food,” Cliff said. “There are also a few berries that won’t kill you, though they taste like acid, and boars that roam the island. Won’t be for too much longer, though,” she added, pushing the girls toward a path through the foliage. “They can’t breed and birth fast enough before we hunt them. Anyone with a chance at fresh meat takes it.”

“Do you fish?” Gia asked. It turned out the blond girl was from a boat family. She’d been caught dressing as a boy to sell her family’s fish in the market when her father had taken ill.

Cliff rubbed the sunburned skin at the back of her neck. “Beach Camp and Southern Cliffs do. Everywhere else, the currents keep fish from getting close enough to shore. Jungle Camp catches a few in a bit of fresh water near where they live, but it isn’t much. They’re as hungry as anyone else,” she ended grimly.

Serina’s brow furrowed. “What happens if a crew loses the fights time after time?”

“They find enough food on their own. Or they starve,” Cliff said with a tone of finality.

They emerged from the patch of trees to another lava field. A grunt and the smack of skin against skin drew Serina’s attention. A few yards to their right, on a wide stretch of grassy earth the lava had missed, several women faced off. Oracle and the woman with the red strip of hair down her shaved skull stood off to the side, watching.

Jacana shuffled to a halt. Serina froze too.

Cliff nodded toward the fighters. “This is where we train. Ember leads most of the training, but if Oracle gives you advice, listen.”

Serina gasped as one of the women punched the other in the stomach. Their whirls and dodges looked like a strange kind of dance; the heat and brilliance of the sun made their movements dizzying.