Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(29)
And it’s Nomi’s fault.
Serina shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought. It felt like a betrayal.
“When you’ve recovered, walk,” Petrel suggested. “Stay away from the guard stations and the other crews. Everywhere else is okay. Walk as much as you can, run when you feel ready. Climb with your hands and feet bare… the volcanic rock will help you form calluses. You need to toughen up.”
Serina laughed. What an understatement.
Petrel smiled again. “What’s your name?”
“Let’s call her Softie,” one of the other fighters yelled from the front of the line.
Her companion laughed.
“No. How about Wallop, since we walloped her.”
Serina couldn’t bring herself, in that moment, to care what they chose for her name. She was soft. Defeated. Weak.
Ahead the line slowed to a stop. Oracle waited for them to catch up. She glanced around the small group, all sweat-stained and sagging in the heat, Serina the most disheveled of them all. In her whole life, she’d never spent a day without clean, brushed hair, nice clothes, and a perfect smile. What she must look like now, her mouth swollen, jaw bruised, and hair a wild tangle.
Oracle leveled her with a stare that seemed to see everything, seemed to understand all of Serina’s hopes, dreams, desires… and all her failures. As she spun away, Oracle shouted over her shoulder, “Call her Grace.”
FOURTEEN
NOMI
THE BOOK WAS burning a hole through Nomi’s bed. She could feel its sharp corners keeping her awake at night, tempting her as Angeline slept. In the dark, Nomi’s heartbeat spoke in black ink and silken paper, her mind filled with a craving that grew more painful the longer she resisted. She wanted so much to steal a moment, steal a glance, but she left it where it was. It wasn’t worth the risk. She never forgot Serina’s face as she pretended to read the book of legends, or the sound of her scream as they dragged her away.
Nomi shook her head a little, trying to put the book from her mind. The trouble was, if she wasn’t thinking about the book, she was thinking about Asa. Did he help with all of the dance lessons, or just when the Heir was away? Would he be at the big horse race coming up? When would she see him again? She was determined to find a way to speak to him about Serina. She couldn’t afford to waste any more chances.
At that moment, she and the other new Graces were ensconced in one of the more private sitting rooms, with dim light and ceramic bowls of warm water set in front of the upholstered chairs. The new Graces were supposed to be learning how to give foot massages by practicing on one another.
With a firm grip, Nomi slid her thumbs, slicked with oil, up the center of Cassia’s foot.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you might actually be getting better,” Cassia said, letting out a little sigh as she dropped her head back against the seat.
Nomi fought the urge to rake her fingernails down the girl’s foot. But she smiled wryly and said, “It’s about time I got something right,” as if she actually cared about such things.
Maris made a noise in the back of her throat. “I hate feet.” She was practicing on her handmaiden, who kept giggling because Maris wasn’t pressing hard enough. “I can’t believe we’re expected to do this. It’s disgusting.”
The handmaiden’s foot jerked as Maris hit another sensitive spot. “Sorry,” she muttered.
Cassia lowered her feet into the bowl of water. “I think it’s sensual.”
Nomi wiped off her hands, her own level of disgust somewhere in between the other girls’.
“My turn,” Cassia said. She patted Nomi on the head like a dog as she stood up. They switched places. Nomi sank into the soft chair and set her bare feet on the toweled footstool.
But before Cassia could start, Ines’s shadow filled the doorway. “The Heir has returned,” she announced. Nomi’s heart jolted.
“He’d like to see you, Cassia,” Ines added.
Nomi let out a breath. Thank the stars she wasn’t first this time.
Cassia swept toward the door, throwing a smug grin over her shoulder. Maris made a scoffing noise in her throat as Cassia left.
Nomi leaned forward to stretch out her spine before collapsing back into the cushioned chair. She closed her eyes and tried to block out thoughts of Serina, Asa, Malachi’s return… everything. She’d had so few opportunities growing up to just sit in a comfortable chair and breathe. Her parents both worked at the textile factory and Renzo was in school, so it had fallen to her to keep the house clean, go to the market for food, prepare their meals, and wash up afterward.
Maris’s handmaiden giggled again. Maris threw down her pumice stone in disgust. The man by the door shifted his weight.
“Are you okay?” Nomi asked quietly. She glanced at the pale, white-clad man at the door briefly, wondering what he thought of them.
Maris used a towel to mop up the oil on her hands. “I wish we could walk on the beach, or swim,” she grumbled. “I feel like I’m waiting for a storm that’s hovering just offshore, and it never gets any closer.”
Nomi smoothed her hands over the tops of her own feet, trying to rub the remnants of oil from her fingers. She said, “The Heir’s birthday is only a few weeks away. After that…”