Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(69)

Nomi took Maris’s arm. “Maybe one day, our lives can be about more than survival.” This was why she was risking so much. Because Serina didn’t deserve to be imprisoned… and neither did the rest of them. “We are not lesser beings, Maris,” she said, her voice shaking. “Someday, things will be different. I know it. I’m going to make it happen.”

Maris patted her hand. “I’ve stopped giving license to fantasies like that. My father used his cruelty skillfully.” But then her gaze sharpened, focusing in on something in Nomi’s face, on the force of her conviction. “You are speaking of fantasies, right?”

“Of course.” Nomi looked away. “It’s nothing. A hypothetical.”

Maris pulled her to a stop and turned to face her. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” Nomi said, but she’d never been good with masks. That was Serina’s weapon, not hers.

“No one here is worthy of trust,” Maris said softly. “The Superior’s Graces talk.… There are spies everywhere, people watching everything. Nothing is what you think here, Nomi.”

“What I think is that we deserve more than this,” she whispered. “We deserve to be free.”

Maris looked at her for a long time, the defeat in her eyes slowly bleeding into a desperate, unwilling hope. She shook her head, as if shaking off a dream. “Be careful. Please be careful.”

“Be careful with what?” A new voice intruded, loud and brash.

Nomi started, guilt written on her face clear as day. She turned to see Cassia stalk toward them, framed by the tall green hedges. How much had she heard?

The girl flicked her silver-blond hair over her shoulder. “Careful with what?” she asked again, raising a brow.

Maris recovered first. She arched a brow. “With the Heir, of course. Tomorrow night.”

Cassia licked her lips. “You don’t really think he’ll choose one of you to spend the night with, do you? I’ll be Head Grace, you wait.”

“What do you want?” Nomi asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

The girl shrugged, her flowing lavender dress rippling. “The Heir has asked to see all of us today. I’ve gone. Now it’s your turn, Nomi.”

This is it. The final preparation.

Nomi shuddered with nerves.

“Thank you,” she said. She glanced once more at Maris, willing her to have faith. And then she headed inside, trying to convince herself to do the same.





The Heir’s emissary led Nomi down the long tile corridor and opened the door carved with the leaping fish. With a small curtsy and a stomach swarming with butterflies, she entered the room. She gripped a small bag to her chest.

Malachi was waiting for her on the terrace. She moved to a spot along the railing next to him, not close enough to touch. She watched people move through the piazza, weaving between the stalls of the market. She pictured Renzo moving through the street, and couldn’t help but search for his dark mop of hair, his tall, lanky stride.

“You look beautiful,” Malachi said.

Nomi curtsied, her shimmering gray dress swishing. “Thank you, Your Eminence.” She reminded herself to be pleasant, to keep her anger to herself this time. She couldn’t risk Malachi asking her to leave before she’d placed the letter. She couldn’t make him suspicious.

Malachi turned and gestured to the closed door opposite his bedroom. “Please join me,” he said, and led the way.

Nomi gasped when he opened the door. He had his own library, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, windows overlooking Bellaqua, and several deep leather chairs. A low table of polished wood was set with a deck of cards, two frosted glasses of orange juice, and a plate of small, star-shaped cookies with pale yellow icing.

Nomi drifted to the nearest bookcase. It was filled with leather-bound volumes with titles like Festival of Corpses and The Foibles of Finnigan Hawk.

“Care for a game of Saints and Sailors?” Malachi asked mildly.

She whirled toward him, her cheeks reddening. “Oh, of course, Your Eminence. I would love to.”

Malachi laughed out loud. “You have never wanted anything less.”

Nomi bit her lip. She’d never heard him laugh before. It softened the harsh lines of his face and the dark glint of his eyes. He looked younger when he laughed.

“If I hadn’t suspected before, I certainly would have now,” he said almost gently. “Don’t let anyone see you around books. Your yearning gives you away.”

Nomi took a deep breath, panic unfurling in her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Malachi’s smile faded. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m sorry, I—I—” she stuttered. Asa’s warning echoed in her ears.

The Heir moved closer to her. “You lie because you are afraid. But I will not punish you for this, if you tell me the truth.”

“Like you punished my sister?” she asked, fire igniting in her chest.

“She was not my Grace,” he said, adding, “and that was my father’s decision. I had no say.”

“But wouldn’t you have done the same?” Nomi’s pulse pounded in her temples. She wanted to rip him apart. “You left that book to trap me. You wanted to—”