Queen of Ruin (Grace and Fury)

by Tracy Banghart

  “I would have been happy with a boat full of prisoners and only a couple of guards,” Serina replied. “But we made it.”

  His teeth gleamed when he grinned. Serina returned his smile. Her shoulders relaxed, but her chest was still tight, her throat sore from the smoke and all the screaming. Her body swayed toward him, aching for a quiet moment, an embrace.

  “We still need to get off this island.” Serina forced herself to focus. There would be time for embraces, for quiet moments, when they reached Azura. “And we have injuries to tend to. We’ll prepare today and leave tomorrow at first light.”

  Anika stared out at the silvery water, wonder in her voice as she said, “We’re leaving Mount Ruin.”

  Serina raised her chin. “Yes.” Something suspiciously like joy stole through her. “We’re leaving Mount Ruin.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  NOMI

  NOMI FOUND RENZO’S schoolbooks underneath the pile of clothes he’d salvaged from the house. She ran her hands across the leather covers and opened his small composition book to read his slanted handwriting.

  “Two more months and I could have applied to university,” Renzo said, glancing at the books. He sighed.

  “I’m sorry.” Nomi cradled the composition book to her chest. “I shouldn’t have involved you in all of this. If I hadn’t—” Her voice broke. The image of their parents’ bodies was constant and unrelenting in her mind. She would never be free of it, or the murderous rage she felt toward Asa.

  She’d made a lot of mistakes—trusting him, writing to Renzo—but it was Asa who’d committed murder. It was Asa who’d ordered her parents killed.

  It was Asa who deserved to die.

  “How long will it take for us to get to Azura?” Renzo asked, sliding down to the floor to sit on his collection of blankets beneath the window. “Will Serina arrive first, do you think?”

  “I hope she’s already there, and safe,” Nomi said. She sat down too, near him. She couldn’t stop staring at him, couldn’t stop assuring herself that he was here. He was alive.

  “You could be in Azura in a fortnight if you take the small sailboat,” Malachi said. “If you buy passage on a merchant vessel, four days. Maybe five.” He stood near the window, staring out into the street.

  Nomi wished she could see his expression. He’d been quiet ever since they’d found her parents. Perhaps it was his way of giving Nomi and Renzo space to reconnect. But she had the odd feeling it was more than that. Because he wasn’t just quiet. He was restless too, moving around the small room as if it caged him. He’d already disappeared for an hour, to sell the stolen horse since they’d be taking the train back to Porto Rosa.

  “We don’t have enough money to buy passage with a merchant. And I don’t—” Nomi stopped. She wasn’t sure what she meant to say, what she was thinking. Only that going to Azura felt like running away, and she wanted to stay and fight.

  “We have money.” Renzo dug into his pocket and held up a silk pouch that jingled invitingly. “It’s the money Father got for your selection as Grace.” He handed it to her. “He didn’t spend it, not a silver.”

  Nomi’s heart seized. “But why not?”

  Renzo shrugged. “I don’t know. Father spoke of Mama retiring, of buying a little house outside the city walls if Serina became a Grace. But when he heard it was you, he put the money in his desk and never spoke of it.”

  Nomi stood up, the weight of the purse heavy in her hand. Her father had lashed her often enough as a child when she’d railed and rebelled. He’d taught her, whether she liked it or not, how to hide her defiance. Was he ashamed that she’d been chosen instead of Serina? Or had he guessed how unhappy she would be?

  Why hadn’t he spent the money?

  He was dead now, and she would never know. She slammed the flat of her hand against the floor.

  “Nomi?” Malachi put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” she said, shrugging him off. “No, I’m not,” she amended, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “Promise me that you’ll make your brother pay.”

  He didn’t blink or back away. “I swear, Nomi.”

  But the words didn’t fully satisfy her. She wanted to make Asa pay.

  It wasn’t until hours later, when they’d eaten a small supper and decided that they would leave the next morning, that a dangerous idea took root. As Nomi drowsed, propped up against the wall, she scratched her leg and her fingers snagged against the rough handle of the knife Serina had given her. It was an answer to the question she’d been asking herself since she saw her parents’ broken bodies.

  She tilted her head to look at the Heir. “Malachi, back on Mount Ruin, you spoke of secret passages. Ways the women could access the palazzo without detection. Will you use that route with Dante’s troops?”

  Malachi rubbed the back of his neck, his head cocked to the side. “I don’t know. It depends on how many join us, what Asa’s defenses look like when we get there. The passages are narrow and hard to access. Why?”

  “And if you must go alone?” she asked. “If Dante doesn’t get your message?”

  His attention sharpened. “Yes. Then I would definitely use the tunnels. There’s one that begins in a baker’s basement. My father showed it to me. There’s a relief of a fat man on the wall, and if you press his belly, the door opens. That passage goes directly to the palazzo’s sleeping quarters—the Graces, mine and Asa’s rooms, the Superior’s. Why, Nomi?”

  A passageway straight to the Superior.

  A fine tremble began in Nomi’s fingers.

  “Does Asa know about the tunnels? Surely he does,” she deflected, staring at her boots. She didn’t want Malachi to know why she was really asking about the passageways, and yet she found herself wondering at his answer all the same. “Your brother had me sneak out to meet him, but he never told me about any tunnels. I was wondering, you know… if there was a reason he didn’t tell me.”

  Probably he thought her getting caught not worth sharing the secret.

  “He didn’t tell you because he didn’t know,” Malachi said, surprising her. “My father only told me.”

  “What were the tunnels made for, then?” Nomi asked.

  “For escape,” Malachi said. “To protect the Superior. Just after the Floods—”

  “You mean the coup to overthrow the queen of Viridia,” she corrected. It was his own fault—he’d given her a book detailing the true history of Viridia… now she knew the Floods were not the natural disaster they’d been made out to be, but a deliberate effort to sabotage the country and the queen’s power. Her advisors had overthrown her, and the first Superior had taken her and her two daughters as his first Graces.

  The story still made Nomi feel sick.

  Malachi cleared his throat. Renzo looked up with a “What?” but they ignored him. “Yes, after the coup,” Malachi continued. “The palazzo was rebuilt, but the Superior and his advisors were worried about retaliation. He made sure there was an escape route.”

  “And he oppressed the women of Viridia in every way he could, so there never would be retaliation.” Nomi stood up and paced, her heart beating too fast.

  “What are you talking about?” Renzo asked, his gaze flicking between the two of them.

  “The history you were taught in school wasn’t entirely accurate,” Nomi said, but she didn’t explain further. She had too much to think about, too much rage pumping through her veins.

  By twilight, Nomi had made up her mind. Malachi was not the only one desperate for revenge. And she didn’t need to wait for a regiment to help her get it.

  “Dessert?” Renzo asked, holding out a pastry.

  She shook her head. In the guise of tidying up, she took stock of Renzo’s belongings as she folded them: three linen shirts, his wool jacket, one heavy cloak, two pairs of pants. His schoolbooks, notebook, and one graphite pencil. Three blankets, a single pillow, his boots. The money purse. She and Malachi had a bag, a flagon, her prison clothes, and a few silve
rs between them.

  Renzo insisted that she take the pillow when they settled down to sleep. Nomi chose a spot on the floor near her brother, and she hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek before they lay down.

  “It’s not long now, don’t worry,” he said, mistaking her clinginess for nerves. “Tomorrow, we’ll wait until everyone is at work and then head for the station. No one will bother us. Porto Rosa by midday, and on a merchant vessel by nightfall if we’re lucky.”

  “We should leave some money for Signor Stefano,” she said. “For Mama and Papa… and for his silence.”

  Renzo nodded. “We will.”

  Malachi fell asleep sitting up, his head back and his mouth open. Nomi curled up and buried her face in Renzo’s blanket, forcing her breath to slow. When Renzo started to snore, she crept to the stack of clothes and grabbed a few items.

  She snuck into the small washroom and changed into the pants and shirt she’d worn on Mount Ruin. Then Renzo’s heavy wool cloak. If she pulled up the hood it hid her hair and most of her face. She put a few of the coins from the silken money purse into her pocket, leaving the rest for Renzo. Silently, she slid her feet into her boots, adjusted the jagged blade Serina had given her, and picked up Renzo’s composition book.

  The moonlight through the uncovered window provided just enough light.

  Dear Renzo,

  The tattooed woman may become a ghost, but she exacts her revenge all the same. Take the train to Porto Rosa, the ship to Azura, and be safe. Give my love to Serina.

  I’m sorry for everything.

  Love,

  Nomi

  She placed the note on the floor by her brother’s head, where he would see it when he woke. Then she crept for the door.

  A hand gripped her arm. She swallowed back a scream.

  Malachi turned her to face him and whispered, “What has gotten into your head?”

  She raised her chin, her lip trembling, and hardened herself. “He killed my parents, Malachi.”

  His hand tightened on her arm. “He’ll kill you.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. “I’m the one who gave him this power. I will be the one to take it away. My parents deserve justice.”

  “No.” His expression cracked. “He’s my brother. He’s my responsibility.”

  Nomi couldn’t bear his protests. She felt like a jockey just before the Premio Belaria, full of anticipation and terror.

  His lips parted, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak this time. Driven by instinct, by grief and longing, she stretched up and pressed her lips to his. Tears leaked out of her closed eyes. He stiffened for an instant, and then he melted into her, his hands snaking up to tangle in her hair.

  This moment was all they had. It was all they would ever have. So Nomi let everything else go, just for the space of a breath. The distance of a kiss. She didn’t worry about what Malachi wanted from her. She wanted this from him. This one moment. This chance to sink into him, to bask in the warmth of his mouth, to let herself feel.

  When she pulled away, her face was wet with tears. “Go find Dante. Bring your regiment. Be there to finish the job if I fail.”

  His sharp face filled with pain. If she’d been a little less broken, it would have wrecked her completely. “Nomi—”

  “I have to do this, Malachi,” she whispered, her chest tight. “I can’t live with this fury inside. I have to let it out.”

  And then, before Malachi could argue, she slipped away.

  TWENTY-THREE

  SERINA

  SERINA HELPED HAUL the dead soldiers to the southern cliffs, where the sharks were plentiful. When the last soldier had disappeared into the sea, and while everyone gathered their belongings and Mirror and the other injured were tended to, Serina and Val explored the boat.

  The deck was long and wide, just large enough to fit everyone, Serina thought as she walked from end to end. She tried to imagine the crowd in the amphitheater transplanted here. A bit of a crush, but they could make it work.

  She followed Val into the small room at the bow of the ship. A giant wheel stood in the center, with various other mysterious gauges and instruments along the wall.

  “Do you think you can navigate this?” Serina asked, her stomach sinking. She had no idea what any of the equipment was for, beyond the wheel. A ladder led to the engine room beneath them.

  “Gia can,” he said. “She knows far more about boats and navigation than I do.”

  Serina pulled him to a stop before he could leave the wheelhouse. He paused, his gaze questioning, until she tipped up to kiss him. He slipped his arms around her, and they stood for a moment in the quiet privacy of the little room. Serina rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

  She traced her fingers down the muscles of his upper arm; the feel of his skin ignited little sparks in her fingertips. In her training to become a Grace, she had learned how to please men, how to be alluring. She’d never known—never imagined—how much pleasure she would find, when the man was someone she actually cared for. No one had told her she could feel attraction and pleasure too.

  Serina leaned up for another kiss, reluctant to leave this moment behind. Val’s mouth was so warm and gentle, and she loved the power it gave her, to nip at his lower lip, to tighten her arms and draw him closer.

  Her fingers curled into his soft, unruly hair. Her mouth opened, and a heat spread through her, as thrilling as it was unexpected.

  Val drew away, a strange look on his face. “Serina?”

  She laughed a little. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I think I’m a little giddy. We’re going to escape, Val. This is really happening.”

  He grinned, a larger, happier smile than she’d ever seen. It lit him up, erasing the weight that usually hung behind his eyes.

  He kissed her again, and she lost in herself in the swirl of their tongues and hands and heat.

  But they hadn’t escaped yet, and there were a lot of women waiting for their freedom.

  Serina drew away reluctantly. As they left the wheelhouse, hand in hand, she asked, “What happens when we get to Azura? With you and me, I mean?”

  It was a question she hadn’t had the courage to ask before, out of a superstitious fear that naming a future would put it out of reach. But they’d won. She could let herself imagine the possibilities.

  Val squeezed her hand. “Whatever we want.” He shot her a quick, almost shy look and cleared his throat. “In Azura, you can work, own your own belongings and property.… You will be able to choose the life and, um, the companion you want. If you want one.”

  “It sounds like a fairy tale, not a real place.” Serina had never really thought about what she wanted, beyond what she was expected to want: to become a Grace. And when she’d arrived here, all she’d wanted was to survive long enough to see Nomi again.

  She smiled up at Val. She wanted him. She wanted to learn to read, like Nomi. And she wanted her family to be safe. Beyond that… beyond that she didn’t know. But she loved that she’d have the opportunity to figure it out. For herself. The bubble of joy grew inside her, full of light and air, until she felt as if she might float away.

  By dawn, they were ready to leave Mount Ruin.

  “All right, is that everyone?” Serina shouted. She helped the last couple of women onto the boat, then looked behind her at the empty path snaking up the hill toward the prison compound. Mount Ruin was really a ruin now, blackened and smoking, full of nothing but ghosts. She waited for a moment, but of course no one else hiked down the path. They’d counted and recounted… carried the injured down first, assigned buddies. Anika had even done a final sweep of the north side of the island—the parts still accessible, anyway—to make sure no one was left behind.

  Serina climbed onto the boat, closed the gate in the railing, and shouted at Val that they were ready to go. Val was belowdecks feeding coal into the engine. Gia and another girl, Bellweather, who was also from a boat vil
lage, were navigating.

  Ember stood at the stern of the ship, her arms on the gunwale, staring back at the island. Serina guessed she was thinking about Oracle. She wished she could offer some comfort, but she found it was hard for her to leave too. As relieved as she was, she did feel as if she was abandoning the women who’d died here—Oracle, Petrel, Jacana, Doll, Val’s mother, and all the others. Too many others. Maybe one day the volcano would erupt again, and all the women who’d been committed to it would become part of whatever the island became next.

  “How are you doing?” Serina asked Maris, who was standing nearby, her hands curled around the railing.

  “The memories of my voyage here are a little too fresh,” she said with a small grimace. “But at least we’re going in the opposite direction.”

  “And there are no chains,” Serina said, smiling. “This victory is yours, Maris. You helped us when we needed it most. Thank you.”

  Maris raised her chin. When she’d come down from the cliffs, her hands had shaken so badly she could barely hold her firearm. But she’d shown no inclination to hide or wallow.

  Helena put her arm around Maris and leaned her head on her shoulder. Together they watched Mount Ruin shrink behind them.

  Serina moved down the deck, checking next on Mirror and the other injured girls.

  “How’s your arm?” she asked, nodding toward the more official bandage that was now wrapped around Mirror’s bicep.

  She made a face. “Hurts a lot. But it’s stopped bleeding. One of the girls from Hotel Misery stitched me up. She wasn’t sure… Well, it was deep. We’ll see how it heals.”

  Serina put a hand gently on her shoulder, careful not to jostle her. “There’ll be proper doctors in Azura. They will make sure it heals as it should.”

  Anika stood at the opposite rail, her back to Mount Ruin. Serina wove through the press of bodies to reach her. Anika didn’t acknowledge her.

  “I know it feels like we’re going in the wrong direction,” Serina said. “But you’ll get back to your family, Anika. I believe that, I truly do.”