Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(47)

Maris leaned forward and put her head in her hands.

“Never mind. I’m sorry for asking,” Nomi said, contrite. She hadn’t meant to upset Maris.

“No,” Maris said, through her hands. “It’s just that… I’ve never been able to talk about it before. And it’s killing me.” She took a deep breath.

Nomi kept watching the doorway; she had a feeling this wasn’t a conversation Maris would want the Superior to have knowledge of.

In a rush, Maris said, “My father paid off the magistrate of our province to choose me.” Her face reddened. “He found me kissing… my, ah…” She couldn’t seem to continue.

Nomi asked softly, “You were in love with someone unsuitable?”

Maris lifted her head to stare out at the horizon. “Her name was Helena,” she said in a whisper.

Nomi bit back a gasp. A woman loving another woman was forbidden in Viridia.

“We had a plan.… She was going to be my handmaiden. We would have been together. But Father caught us. He threatened me,” Maris said louder, anger coating the words. “Make the Heir choose me as one of his Graces, without Helena as my handmaiden, or he’d inform the authorities and I would be sent away.” Her mouth snapped shut. She turned her head to meet Nomi’s eyes. “So I did.”

Nomi couldn’t look away. She couldn’t move. If Maris hadn’t been chosen, and her father had followed through on his threat—she would have been sent to prison, just like Serina.

The greater cruelty: Either way, Maris would forever be separated from the person she loved.

Nomi wondered what her own parents would have done if they’d found out that she could read. Would they have reported her, as Maris’s father had threatened? Would they have tried to protect her? Was Maris’s father a monster… or just a citizen of Viridia, doing what anyone in the country would do?

“What happened to Helena?” Nomi asked.

After a long moment, Maris answered. “I don’t know.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nomi said, at a loss. Did the Heir know two of his three Graces were unwilling? Would always be unwilling? Maybe that was why he’d chosen them, out of some sadistic desire to make them suffer. Maybe that was what pleased him.

“In all the stories, women give up everything,” Maris said, her voice tight. “We are always supposed to give. We are never supposed to fight. Why do you think that is?”

Nomi thought of Queen Vaccaro and her daughters, betrayed by their male advisors and erased from history.

She thought of the letter hidden in her room.

Voice low, knowing she was walking on a knife’s edge, she murmured, “Because they’re afraid of what will happen if we do.”





TWENTY-THREE



SERINA


JUST BEFORE LUNCH, a new boat of prisoners arrived on Mount Ruin.

Cave camp roiled. Whom would Oracle choose to fight?

Serina chewed on her tasteless bread, trying to imagine it was Nomi’s cinnamon-clove shortbread. Even with strict rationing and the boar meat, supplies were dwindling.

“If they choose me, I’ll die,” Jacana said softly, staring at her small, empty hands.

“You’re so fast, Jacana.” Serina squeezed her shoulder. Jacana had “earned” the nickname Mouse, but Serina refused to call her that. For all her slight frame and frightened eyes, the girl often proved quick and resourceful. She had more potential than she gave herself credit for. “I don’t think you need to worry, but if… if Oracle thinks you’re ready, trust her.”

Petrel’s cheerful face passed through Serina’s mind.

“Timely advice,” Gia said, her voice tight. She nodded toward Oracle, who was making her way over to them.

Jacana grasped at Serina’s hands. On her other side, Theodora hissed in a breath. Her long, loose arms wound around her knees, drawing herself together as if she could make herself small, less obvious.

Serina whispered, “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure them or herself. Her heart jumped to her throat and fluttered like a mad thing, desperate to escape.

She remembered how much she’d wished the Heir would single her out. Choose her. The glittering gowns, the golden filigree, the fine music… Now she prayed to be invisible.

Please not Jacana or Gia or—

“Serina, I’d like to speak with you outside.” Oracle towered over her.

No. The cave shrank around her. For an instant, she thought about refusing. But the eyes of the entire crew were on her. Jacana released her hands.

Serina stood up on watery legs. She followed Oracle down the length of the tunnel, through columns of sunlight and deep trenches of shadow, close and cold as a grave. By the time they reached the entrance, the back of Serina’s neck was sticky with sweat and her hands trembled.

Oracle stopped and squinted into the sun.

“I’m not ready,” Serina said before the other woman could speak. It was too surreal. This is a nightmare. “The crew needs the food, and I—”

Oracle broke in. “The first fight after a win, we always pick a freshie. It’s the safest time to test new fighters—the safest time to lose.” She looked toward the distant ocean. “I was going to choose you. You were the best of the freshies, but I didn’t think you’d win.”