Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(46)

Angeline shuffled into the room, her arms overflowing with a cloud of red fabric.

“What is that?” Nomi asked, looking askance at the pile.

Her handmaiden heaved it onto the bed. “Your gown for the party tonight. The dressmaker finally finished it. Yours was the last one she finished. She cut it close this time.”

Surprise, Nomi thought. Her relationship with the seamstresses remained strained.

“I forgot how massive it is.” She’d been unable to breathe during the fitting, and she remembered thinking the dress made her look like a stranger.

Unbidden, Nomi found herself wondering what Asa would think of its full skirt and structured, low-cut bodice.

“It’s red.” Angeline smiled. “Malachi’s favorite color.”

Nomi’s stomach twisted. She tried to return her handmaiden’s smile. “It’s lovely.”

Angeline continued her chatter. “You know his horse is a blood bay?”

Nomi looked at her blankly.

“Red,” Angeline clarified. “A great hulking beast with a long black mane. The other day I was cleaning the terrace and saw him riding. Gorgeous thing. The horse, I mean. I’ve always thought the Heir was quite terrifying, to be honest. Is he always so serious? But handsome, of course, don’t you think?”

“I—I don’t know,” Nomi replied. Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere but in that room. She had no desire to gossip about the Heir. What would Angeline think if Nomi confessed the Heir terrified her too?

“It’s hours ’til the party. I think I’ll work on my embroidery. Get a little air.” Nomi collected her materials and scurried into the hall. As she walked through the ornate sitting rooms, all oppressively silent, Nomi wished she could escape outside, take a walk somewhere, feel the air on her face. The best she could do was make her way to one of the terraces.

“Oh! Excuse me,” Nomi said, noticing Maris in a wicker chair by the railing. She was staring out at the ocean through the gaps of the twisting iron flowers.

Maris waved a hand at the chair beside her. “I don’t mind.”

Nomi settled onto the seat and pulled out her embroidery hoop.

One of the Superior’s men stepped into the doorway and stood for a few moments, watching them. Eventually he left, his white shoes silent on the tile. Nomi wondered if it was one of the men she’d dodged the night before. Returning to her room had been a little less nerve-racking than sneaking out; Asa had given her directions to the servants’ entrance, which wasn’t on the men’s rounds.

Maris’s gaze flicked to the empty doorway. “I hate the way they loom in corners, listening,” she murmured. “Yesterday the Superior disciplined Eva for something she said when one of his guards was watching.”

“Do you know what she said?” Nomi asked.

Maris shook her head. “I didn’t hear. But she was scared when Ines told her the Superior had summoned her. And Rosario told me that the Heir is taking us on an excursion tomorrow in place of the Superior and his Graces as punishment for Eva’s impertinence. Ines is to announce it at lunch.”

“So we’re to leave the palace?” Nomi asked. The thought of the Superior punishing Eva made her shiver, but she couldn’t deny she was eager to leave the walls of the palazzo. “Do you know where we’re going?”

Maris nodded. “A perfumery. That’s what Rosario said. I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s away from here.”

Nomi eyed Maris. It sounded like Nomi wasn’t the only one who felt trapped. With a sigh, she turned back to her stitches and tried not to stab her finger with the needle.

Maris gestured to Nomi’s embroidery. “That’s fine work. You’re talented.”

Nomi studied the frame in her hands, with its cityscape of Bellaqua half-complete. She’d been trying to finish Serina’s work, but her stitches were inelegant compared to her sister’s, and she couldn’t help thinking she was making it worse.

Up until last night, she’d felt like she was making everything worse. But now she had a plan. She ran her fingers over Serina’s delicate stitches. The absence of her sister was a hole in her chest, growing larger and larger the longer they spent apart. She had to save Serina. If she didn’t, there’d be nothing of her left.

“My sister did most of it,” Nomi said softly. “She’s the one with the skill. I’m fine with darning socks and sewing patches, but this is a challenge for me.” She made a noise in the back of her throat. “Like everything here.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to her?” Maris brushed her ink-black hair off her shoulder.

Nomi stabbed her needle through the fabric. “The Superior sent her away. Rosario was right.”

“Home?”

Nomi swallowed. “No.”

Maris turned her attention back to the ocean. “It’s hard to be separated from the people we love.”

“Is that why you’re not happy here?” Nomi asked softly. “Do you miss your family too?”

Maris’s face hardened. “I have no family. My mother is dead and my father is dead to me.”

Nomi glanced toward the doorway. Still empty. No looming shadows. “You said you would have been happy here, if not for your father. What did you mean?”