Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(70)

“It was a test, not a trap.” His dark eyes held an expression she didn’t understand.

Nomi couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “You gave me a book about women ruling this country. About a history none of us are ever taught. Why would you do that?”

“Ah,” he said, and his face relaxed. “I thought that might draw you out.”

Despair burned through her. She’d risen to the bait. Now he knew she’d read it. With a breath, she braced for his wrath.

She was not prepared for his smile.

“Why?” she asked. “Why would you want me to be able to read?”

His expression softened. “I thought, if you could read, that would confirm something I suspected about you.”

“What?” Her heart clamored in her chest.

“I thought you were daring. Persistent. Now I know I was right. Maybe you won’t believe me, but I admire your nerve.”

Nomi flushed, disbelief radiating through her. Asa had said his brother was incensed by her defiance, not attracted to it. “Are you going to tell your father?”

“Of course not,” Malachi said. “But I know now, and that knowledge gives me great pleasure.”

Nomi could think of nothing to say.

He cocked his head at the bag she held. “More gifts?”

Nomi shook her head. “Your book.”

“You could have given it to the Head Grace,” Malachi said. “She’s the one who left it for you to find.”

“Ines? Your mother?” The woman who’d warned Nomi to follow the rules? The woman who’d turned Serina in for the very same thing? The thought of going to her with the book nearly made Nomi laugh in disbelief.

Malachi looked away. “Yes, my… mother.”

The pause caught Nomi’s attention. She thought about what Cassia had said, about Graces not raising their own children. “You don’t think of her like that?”

“As my mother?” Malachi’s hands clenched once, briefly, before relaxing. “No, not really. But… but I do trust her. She would not tell my father about the book.”

The book in the bag Nomi still clutched to her chest. Heart in her throat, she asked, “May I return it to your shelves?”

He gave her a casual nod and sank into a chair by the table, with his back to her. For an instant, she stared at him, confused beyond all measure. He’d just confirmed she could read, and… that was it? Was he truly not going to call the guards?

Remembering herself, she seized her chance, scrambling to remove the book and the letter from her bag. She slid the book onto a shelf, and the letter between two books on the shelf above, the edge of the letter peeking out the tiniest bit. Not enough for Malachi to notice, hopefully, but enough for Asa to, when he brought the guards to search Malachi’s chambers.

Nomi took another deep breath as she turned away from the bookshelf. It was done.

He shuffled the cards. “So, a game?”

“Of course,” she said, forcing her muscles to relax even though she desperately wished for an excuse to leave, now that her task was complete. She sat down across from him as he dealt the cards, patterned side up. The other sides varied, with pictures of warty, crooked-nosed Sailors, red-lipped Sirens, uniformed Soldiers, and serene-faced Saints. The deck also had two cards where all the characters entwined suggestively. If one was played, the game reset. Cassia called them the “orgy” cards.

The objective was to end up with only Saint cards or Sailor cards. All Saints was better.

Nomi admired the cards in her hand. She’d never seen a set with such skilled illustrations. The images on the deck Renzo had were simplistic and crude. This set was beautifully detailed, the Siren’s eyes filled with murderous seduction, the Saint’s face beatific, his gaze turned upward.

The Saint didn’t look like he knew all the answers. He looked like he was still searching.

Nomi kept sneaking glances at the Heir. He’d gone to such lengths to confirm that she could read, just as a point of personal satisfaction? Was this part of his manipulation?

Her position felt more precarious than ever. There was so much she didn’t understand.

“I want to teach you to ride,” he said suddenly, shocking her again. Malachi played a Siren without looking at her, a red flush creeping up his throat.

“I don’t know, Your Eminence,” she said haltingly. “Those horses in the race, they were so large. I found them quite terrifying.”

His lip quirked. “There’s a vast difference between riding a pony through the gardens and racing in the Premio Belaria.”

“Of course,” she murmured, playing her own Siren.

“I saw you speaking to my brother that night.”

Nomi looked up sharply, but he was focused on his cards.

“Was he regaling you with tales of his miraculous win?”

“He did mention it,” she allowed.

He played a Soldier and drew a card. “He enjoys the attention. Any attention, really. I think that’s why he volunteers for the dance lessons.” He glanced up at her briefly, before focusing again on his cards. “He thrives when he gets to play the chivalrous hero.”

“Volunteer? He told me your father made him attend the lessons,” Nomi said slowly.

“Did he, now?” Malachi raised a brow.