Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(60)

THIRTY



NOMI


NOMI COULDN’T SLEEP. Storms ravaged the palazzo until long after midnight, and she flinched with each clap of thunder and flash of lightning, feeling as if she were under attack. Eventually, when the sky finally cleared and dawn crept up her windowsill, she dragged herself out of bed and sat at her dressing table. She stared at her reflection, and it was as if she were looking at a completely different person. Her lips were tender and her cheeks flushed. She stared until her face blurred and her features didn’t make sense anymore. Even wrapped in a warm robe, she shivered.

The Heir had kissed her.

Her mind flashed back to the moment, over and over.

The lashing rain, the heat of his mouth, the way her body pressed against him as if it wanted him. But it didn’t.

I don’t.

Now, away from the rain and the heat and the anger, her stomach turned, thinking about it. Had she kissed him because she knew she had to? Because, with the Heir, it wasn’t a choice?

She wasn’t sure.

Either way, it felt like a betrayal to Asa.

And to herself.

Angeline bustled into the room, a scrap of material clutched to her chest. “Ines says the Heir has requested breakfast on the beach with his Graces. It’ll be nice to spend some time in the sun, right?”

With the Heir? Nomi’s stomach balked.

Angeline laid the fabric out on the bed—a black swimming robe. “It’s such a beautiful day. The sky is so clear. You’d never know we had storms yesterday.”

“Yes,” Nomi echoed faintly, staring fixedly at her reflection.

“Are you well?” Angeline asked. “You seem a bit preoccupied. Was yesterday’s outing taxing?”

Taxing? The Heir called me dangerous. And then he kissed me.

The words wanted to form on Nomi’s lips. She wanted to talk about it. But she wanted to talk to her sister. Nomi thought of her letter, traveling north to Lanos. She thought of Asa, preparing to launch a false case against his brother.

The Heir is right. I am dangerous.

After she’d donned her swimming robe, Nomi joined the others in the receiving room. Ines led them down through the palazzo and onto the beach. Bleary-eyed and reluctant, Nomi followed Cassia and Maris out into the glaring sunlight.

A wrought-iron table had been set up a few yards from the water, on a black-and-white-checked carpet. Heavy white drapes were staked out above it to provide shade. Next to the table, a row of chaises were lined up like soldiers in the sun.

The Heir sat alone at the table. Cassia stepped forward quickly to snag the seat next to him, while Maris and Nomi slowly picked their way to the table; Nomi’s strappy sandals wobbled and filled with sand. She kept her head down. Her skull felt too full, tight and near to bursting with all that had happened the night before.

Would Malachi expect more of the same?

Of course. You’re his Grace.

She was his. The thought filled her mind, inescapable. It wouldn’t matter that she had feelings for Asa. That she didn’t want Malachi to touch her.

She’d comforted herself that Cassia had caught his eye. She’d counted on him responding to the girl’s enthusiasm. But what if Malachi chose Nomi to grace his bed the night of his birthday? What if her behavior last night had ignited his interest in her?

“What happened to you and Malachi yesterday?” Maris asked quietly. “You both disappeared so abruptly. Cassia was livid.”

Nomi might have told Maris everything, but not here. Not with Cassia and Malachi so close. So instead, she said as casually as she could, “He helped me get out of the rain. Took pity on me for being so frightened.”

It wasn’t pity, she knew. It was his volatility. Ignoring her for weeks, then seeking her out. Kissing her in the middle of an argument—in the middle of a storm.

“He went tearing after you,” Maris said. “I wish he’d have done the same for us. We got soaked walking up those stairs, and I thought for certain I’d slip and break an ankle.”

Nomi smiled wanly. She, too, wished Malachi had gone after the other girls. That he’d never cornered her under the overhang. That he’d never kissed her. That she’d never kissed him back.

By the time the two girls settled themselves at the table, Cassia had already helped herself to several tiny sandwich rounds. For today’s outing, she’d piled her shimmering hair on top of her head and secured it with a jaunty pink bow. She wore a flattering, low-cut pink swimming robe. The garment was designed like Nomi’s, with stretchy fabric that crossed over the bust and billowed into a short skirt, except Nomi’s was black.

Maris had tied her dark hair back in a thick braid and her willowy body into a shimmering gold swimming robe.

“Good morning,” the Heir said to the group.

He wore navy swim trunks, leaving the golden skin of his chest and arms bare. His satisfied smile made him look like his father.

He was staring straight at Nomi.

She dropped her gaze to her plate as heat rose to her cheeks.

Beside her, Maris ate a sandwich, her head turned to watch the waves. Nomi drizzled honey over a small round of flatbread and tried to eat it, but her stomach wouldn’t settle. Not with the Heir sitting across from her. Not with the memory of last night playing through her mind. She wished Asa were here. He’d distract his brother, send her a secret smile, remind her what they were fighting for.