Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(56)

With a clatter, the carriage rolled to a stop outside a glass-fronted shop. Malachi climbed down and reached up a hand to help each Grace. Nomi alighted on the cobbles and tilted, her shoe catching on the uneven ground. The Heir steadied her, pulling her a little closer than she liked.

He had none of the coiled energy or liquid grace of Asa. He was strong and solid and intensely focused. She wilted under the weight of his gaze.

How could she sneak off on her errand without him seeing, without him noticing? It would be impossible.

When they entered the perfumery, Nomi flinched at its luminous glow, brighter than the hazy morning outside. The large room was filled with small, mirrored tables arranged in precise rows. More mirrors hung from the walls, reflecting back at each other. It gave the space a surreal feel, as if one could step into the mirrored wall and continue forever.

On each table rested a small cut-crystal bottle, a bowl of coffee beans, and a jar of cotton puffs. Cassia looked around with her hands pressed to her chest and giggled with delight.

Nomi and Maris huddled together near the door.

“Perfume makes me sneeze,” Maris whispered.

“That could be useful as a deterrent,” Nomi replied under her breath.

Maris made an odd noise, part laugh and part snort.

Malachi glanced back at them. Nomi fought to contain the hysterical laughter bubbling up her throat.

At that moment, the perfumer emerged from a back room and strode quickly to the Heir’s side. The man was short and portly, with a tuft of white hair encircling the bald crown of his head and round spectacles resting on his nose. He bowed deeply. “Your Eminence, it is my honor that you have chosen to visit today.”

“Thank you, Signor. I’m sorry my father couldn’t accompany us, as was his wish,” the Heir replied.

Malachi turned to his Graces. “The signor has graciously agreed to share his space with us for a few hours. Please sample the perfumes and find one that suits you. When you’ve made your selection, inform me and it will be my pleasure to arrange a bottle for your personal use.”

Graciously agreed… Nomi stifled a laugh. As if the signor had a choice.

Nomi curtsied with the others. She was about to turn to Maris and ask where she wanted to begin, when the Heir stepped in front of her. He held out his hand, all polite gentleman, and gestured to the nearest table. “Shall we find a scent that suits you?”

Reluctantly, Nomi placed her hand in his. She glanced over her shoulder. Maris stared fixedly at the selections on a nearby table, while Cassia dabbed some perfume onto a cotton puff and sniffed delicately.

Malachi held out a damp bit of cotton. “What about this one?”

Nomi leaned a little closer to smell it and wrinkled her nose. “Definitely not. Smells like rotten peaches.”

The Heir raised a brow and held the puff to his face. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You say rotten, I would say… overripe.”

She forced a laugh. He moved on to the next table. She trailed behind, annoyed and bemused at the same time. She hadn’t expected him to sample the perfumes with her. She’d assumed he would stand off to the side and watch his Graces with that terrifyingly intense gaze of his.

Nomi smelled orange oil, which made her skin crawl at the memory of the Superior grabbing her on the boat. When Malachi offered it, she just shook her head. There was plumeria, which was sweet and simple but not popular with the Heir, and a bright, grassy scent that Nomi didn’t mind but didn’t love either.

Cassia giggled and preened her way through the shop in a veiled bid for attention, but Nomi found herself taking the task seriously. Maybe because focusing on the hints of spice and sandalwood distracted her from the letter hidden in her bodice. The hopeless task she nonetheless still hoped she could perform.

“This one is nice,” Malachi said, offering her another cotton.

This scent she couldn’t identify. It made her think of cold, snowy evenings in Lanos, with a hint of wood smoke and something crisp and bracing. Tears pricked her eyes.

“May I have this one, Your Eminence?” she asked softly. She dabbed a little on her wrists and breathed in the scent again. “It reminds me of home.”

Malachi bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you,” Nomi said, with a small curtsy. “And thank you for bringing us on this outing, Your Eminence. It was very generous of you.”

He shrugged. “I know what it’s like to be cooped up in the palazzo.”

“Don’t you mean caged?” Nomi said without thinking.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

Malachi’s attention sharpened. “Is that how you feel?”

“No, of course not,” Nomi covered quickly. “The palace is beautiful. A dream. It’s just been so long since I’ve left its walls and I’ve always wanted to see Bellaqua. It’s been a gift to see it today.”

And suddenly, Nomi knew how to get to Trevi.

“In fact, Your Eminence, I… I would like to give you a gift as well,” she said shyly. She glanced sidelong at him in time to see surprise flash across his face. “To show my appreciation. May I pick something out for you at the market?”

She held her breath. Would he find a trinket from market beneath him? Would he question her motives?

Please.

“You don’t owe me anything, Nomi,” he said, and for once his voice didn’t sound gruff or distant.