Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(73)

“This is not your fault,” Serina said. With an effort, she kept her chin up. Despair slipped through her, insidious as venom. How long until Val set sail? Had it been two hours? Three?

The guards dragged Serina and Jacana toward the cave.

Oracle was standing in the clearing when they approached.

The guard at Serina’s side yelled, “Everyone to the amphitheater. Now!”

Oracle nodded silently.

Serina couldn’t bear to look at her. She didn’t fight the guard’s tight grip on her arm, even though it dug sore spots into her muscles. She tried to hold her head high as she hiked down the path toward the coast, her hands awkwardly shackled behind her. The rough ground was difficult to navigate in places, and she fell twice. One of the guards hauled her to her feet, sending fire through the wound in her shoulder. She couldn’t stifle her moan of pain.

He laughed.

Twilight was falling when they reached the ring. She was sure now. It had been more than three hours. Val was gone. And she was going to die.





THIRTY-SIX



NOMI


NOMI COULDN’T STOP thinking about what Malachi had said. He’d certainly played the part of the responsible older brother, disillusioned by but still protective of his younger brother. If she took him at his word, he was a rebel just like her. Pushing against his father’s wishes by choosing her, reveling in the knowledge that she could read. Admiring her nerve.

But Asa had said Malachi was manipulative. A liar. He’d spoken of his caprice and volatility.

Which brother was lying?

What if they both were?

She wanted to trust Asa. She’d pinned all her hopes on him releasing Serina. She’d pinned her heart to his. But every time she tried to envision the sweet, mischievous boy who wanted to make her queen, the laughing man from the night of the race rose instead, boasting of his great golden cup.

She couldn’t let Renzo risk himself, not when she didn’t know whom to trust. But if she didn’t, Serina would be lost to Mount Ruin. The only solution was to speak to her brother. They could evaluate the risk and decide what to do together.

“Sit still,” Angeline admonished. She was twisting Nomi’s hair into place, and Nomi kept moving her head and ruining it.

“I’m sorry,” Nomi said. “I’m trying.” But in truth, Nomi was desperate to flee this chair, these chambers, the palazzo itself. To knock on every door in Bellaqua until she found Renzo.

But instead she was trapped here, getting ready with Maris and Cassia in one of the dressing rooms. From the look of them, they were fighting nerves as well. Maris was staring dead-eyed into the mirror as her handmaiden braided her hair, and Cassia was arguing with her handmaiden over what earrings to wear.

Maris stood up abruptly, rattling the tubes and jars on her vanity. Her sleek black hair was brushed straight and shining, with two thin braids holding back the hair from her face. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes lined with silver shimmer. She tightened her robe around herself as she left the room.

A few minutes later, Angeline stepped back. She’d piled Nomi’s hair into an artful swirl on the top of her head. Her makeup was subtle and tinged with gold, to match her gown and the glittering mask Ines had given her.

“Ready?” Nomi asked. She glanced out the window at the horizon, gauging the time by the sun’s lowering arc.

Angeline nodded happily. “Time for your dress.”

They headed back to the bedroom. Angeline helped her into her gown. It had a massive belled skirt, heavy gold beading, and a corset tight enough to give Nomi curves. It was a dress that would have made Serina look like a queen. She ached for her sister. No matter what Nomi did tonight, it would feel like a betrayal.

It took Angeline twenty minutes to button up the back of the dress. Nomi could hardly move, let alone breathe, but when she looked in the mirror, her reflection glowed back at her, as beautiful and bright as a candle flame.

This was it. In a matter of hours, the fates of Serina, Renzo, and Nomi would be sealed.





The tiled patio was strung with millions of tiny, sparkling lights, strands and strands of them, all coming together at the top of a tall carved mahogany pole in the center. Beyond, the lawn sloped to the ocean. Only a white flash of waves showed through the darkness. The moon rose, bright and gleaming.

Near the arched doorways that led into the palazzo, the Superior and the Heir sat on huge, gold-filigreed chairs. The Superior had not deigned to wear a mask, but Malachi’s was ornate, twisted gold and wine-dark gems to match his burgundy velvet coat. Asa stood off to the side, looking restless in his midnight blue coat and silver mask. When Ines, masked in black, led the Superior’s Graces onto the patio, he stood up straighter.

Nomi, Cassia, and Maris waited with their handmaidens in one of the doorways. Nomi’s beaded dress jingled faintly; she couldn’t stand still. The Superior would announce them and then the audience would have ample opportunity to assess and admire the Heir’s first Graces before the dancing began. At all the events leading up to tonight, they’d been part of the crowd. There to mingle and practice how to look and act, but not fully on display.

Nomi stared at the gold, beaded brocade of her dress with a fixed attention. Renzo was somewhere out there. She was desperate to find him, but if she saw him now, she didn’t trust herself not to cry out. She had to get through the ceremony. Get through one second, and then the next. Then she could look for him and pull him aside privately.