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.
“You’re saying it’s an act?” she asked, suddenly on edge.
He didn’t reply.
“Maybe you’re jealous of the attention, Your Eminence?” Nomi asked, with a little more bite than she intended.
“Jealous?” He looked up in surprise. “No. Not of that.” He paused, and she waited, curious. “Of him riding in the Premio Belaria, yes. I was jealous of that. I wanted to race too, but my father wouldn’t let me.”
“And then he won.”
“Asa’s win is not something I envy.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. She drew a Saint. But she wasn’t paying much attention to the game. Tension ran along her shoulders and down her spine. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to answer.
Malachi’s hands tightened on his cards. “The night of the race, I went to wish Asa luck in the stables, and I overheard him ordering a groom to sabotage the other riders. More died that year than usual.… A lot of broken saddles.”
Nomi gasped. Asa couldn’t have done that.… Malachi must have misunderstood.
Malachi’s cheeks darkened. “Afterward Asa accused the groom of something—I can’t remember what—and had him put to death. I think he didn’t want anyone to question his victory.”
A chill moved through Nomi, raising gooseflesh along her arms. “That’s awful,” she said softly. She tried to resolve the brutal story with the gentle man she’d come to know. They couldn’t be reconciled. Was Malachi lying? Had he realized that Nomi had feelings for Asa and was trying to undermine them?
“I’m sorry,” he said, shooting her a wry smile. “I’ve never actually told anyone that.”
“Why didn’t you tell your father?” she asked. “Maybe—I mean, your brother should have been punished, right?”
Malachi shrugged. “I should have told, I suppose. But he’s my brother. I—Well, I didn’t. That’s all.”
“Are you and Asa very close?” Nomi stared at the cards in her hand until they blurred.
“No,” Malachi said shortly, and played an orgy card. “We were before, but I found it hard to respect him after that.”
A wave of fever heat passed through her, sending her blood rushing, making her light-headed.
“I can’t imagine feeling that way about my sister. I’m lost without her.” Nomi lowered her Saints to the table, winning the game. Tears burned her eyes, threatening to spill over. Everything she’d done, all her plotting with Asa, was to save Serina. If Malachi’s story was true, Asa had used that poor groom and then disposed of him without a thought. She couldn’t believe it was true. But if it was…
How could she trust him with Renzo’s life?
And if she couldn’t trust him with Renzo’s life, how would she save Serina’s?
She could bear the Heir’s presence no longer. His dark eyes, the sharp planes of his face, his strange fascination with her, the confusion she felt when she met his eyes. The things he said about his brother, about her.… It was all too much.
“I’m sorry, Your Eminence,” she said shakily. “I’m not feeling well. May I retire?”
“Of course,” Malachi replied. He stood up too, and reached for her. She backed away. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said, and then something else, but she didn’t hear.
She was already out the door.
THIRTY-FIVE
SERINA
SERINA SURFACED OUT of a nightmare, her fists up and her heart thumping in her ears. Someone had grabbed her arm.
“It’s just me,” Val said, releasing her. “We need to go.”
Serina regained her bearings slowly. The sun was high in the sky. She’d slept away the morning, curled into the shade of their small cave. He’d already slung the strap of his pack over his shoulder.
“Where are we going?” She pushed her tangled, dirty hair off her forehead, wincing at the pain in her shoulder.
Val glanced out toward the beach. “It’s only a matter of time before the guards find us, and I think you’re healthy enough to move now,” he said. “I’m taking you off this island.”
She gaped at him. “What?”
“I told you I was going to save my mother,” he said. “You don’t think I came to Mount Ruin without a plan?” His smile was crooked at the edges and didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She stood up slowly, her legs still weak. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?”
“The boat’s hidden at high tide. And”—he touched her cheek briefly—“you needed to rest a little more, regain a little more strength. I knew if I told you, you’d have wanted to leave right away.”
A boat? He really, truly had a way to escape? Serina’s pulse raced. After all her plotting—rafts, revolutions—was it really this simple? Nomi…
“If you’d told me we had to wait for low tide, I would have,” she said reproachfully.
“But would you have slept?” His look matched hers.
“Probably not,” she admitted. The electricity in her veins, the sudden urge to move, move, move, was hard to deny. She would have spent the day climbing out of her skin.
“We’ve got two hours before the cave is exposed,” Val explained. “It’ll take us almost that long to get there.” He turned north and held out his hand.
“Where do you plan to go?” she asked, without moving.
Val glanced back at her. “I thought we’d head for Bellaqua. Maybe try to rescue your sister?”
Serina didn’t know what to say. Her head suddenly felt too light, as if it might float off her shoulders and out to sea. “Is this a trap?”
Val smiled gently. “Not a trap. A way out.”
Serina took his hand. His fingers closed over hers, and her muscles melted like candle wax. She’d found her raft and her revolution, all in one. And perhaps more. His grin made her ache.
But she couldn’t bring herself to move.
Jacana had defied Oracle to bring Serina water. She’d spent hours trying to help Serina with her escape plans. She’d promised to try to convince the crew chief an uprising was a good idea.
Small, timid Jacana. When she was chosen to fight, she would lose.
Serina knew she couldn’t save everyone. But she couldn’t leave Jacana behind.
“We have to make a detour,” Serina said. “I made a promise to a friend that I would get off this island with her. We have to take her with us.”
Val’s brows drew together. “There are no detours. You can’t get anywhere near the Cave. It’s too dangerous.”
Serina let go of his hand. She didn’t want to anger him or risk her own escape. But she couldn’t betray Jacana, not after all they’d been through. “This whole place is dangerous. Jacana won’t survive a fight. If we don’t bring her with us, we’re the ones sentencing her to death.”
He raised his hands, palms up, his expression verging on frantic. “We can’t, Serina. I’m sorry. We have to go. Now. We’ve already waited too long.”
Her whole body yearned to follow him. “I can’t leave her here,” Serina replied, willing him to understand. “She’s the only one who helped me. She brought me water—”
> “I helped you,” he said, voice rising. “For a week I watched over you. I spooned food into your mouth, scared you’d never wake. I thought—” He reached for her arm again. “You’re not the only one Commander Ricci wants to kill, remember? We have to go.”
Serina yanked her arm away, more forcefully than she’d intended. Knocked off balance, he stumbled. She stared at him, wide eyed. But she couldn’t back down. “I want to go with you,” she said softly, but with a thread of steel. “So much I can hardly stand it. But I can’t leave Jacana. I’ve taken care of her since we arrived, and I can’t abandon her now. Please understand.”
Couldn’t he see how much this was killing her? She wanted to forget Jacana and disappear. But if Nomi had been sent to Mount Ruin instead, if someone had considered saving her, and hadn’t…
Val stared at her for a long time.
“Take the first path to the north beach, then head for the cliffs. I’ll get the boat out and wait for you there. Stay away from Beach Camp. Don’t let them see you.” He shifted his pack. “If you’re not there in three hours, I’ll have to leave. The other guards are looking for me.”
“I understand,” Serina said. “I’ll be there. I promise.”
He gave her a last look, as if memorizing her face. As if he didn’t expect to see her again. He turned and headed north without another word.
Serina collected her flagon of water. Then she shoved a handful of sand into her pocket. Jacana was either training or collecting food this time of day. Serina would need to get her attention and draw her away from the others. The sand could come in handy for that.
The hardest part would be finding her and staying unseen. Oracle sometimes posted sentries, but not usually in the middle of the day. It was a brazen time to try to steal their supplies or kidnap one of their fighters, both activities the other crews were known to engage in.
Serina scrambled up the beach to the rocky path. It didn’t take long to reach the patch of jungle that bordered the cave. She was grateful for the shade. The day was heating up quickly.
She rounded a bend, the foliage thick on all sides, and stopped dead. “Jacana!”
Her friend was right there, standing in the middle of the path.
Jacana’s eyes widened when she saw her. “Serina! Run!”
Before Serina could move, two guards materialized from the thick jungle foliage beside the path. They bolted for Serina. She hardly had time to turn around. With a shout, one of them grabbed her, hauling her to the ground. Her shoulder flamed. Serina whimpered.
For a moment, she tried to struggle, but the guard used all his weight to hold her down. “Hold still,” he growled.
The other guard locked shackles around her wrists with an ominous clank.
“That was easy,” he said, hauling Serina to her feet. He pushed her toward Jacana, who still stood frozen in the middle of the path, her face ashen and her eyes wide.
“What’s happening?” Serina asked, struggling against her bonds.
“They’ve been waiting for you for days,” Jacana said, her dirty face streaked with tears. “They’ve been using me and Gia as bait. I guess the Commander thought that you’d get hungry and seek out your friends.” Her shoulders sagged as they bound her in iron too. “I’m so sorry.”
“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 straig
hter.
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.
The Superior stood up, his skeletal body moving slowly but precisely. He did not wince or pause. The quiet harp music provided by his Graces ceased.
“Good evening, my illustrious guests,” the Superior began, extending his bony hands in an expansive gesture. “I am honored to have you here on this special occasion, the twentieth birthday of my son and heir.”
Nomi glanced at Asa. His silver mask hid his expression.
The Superior continued. “Malachi has distinguished himself as an intelligent and conscientious man, one who has the skills and steadiness to one day take my place as the Superior. In the meantime, I welcome his larger role in the running of this country. I believe Viridia will benefit from his insight.”
Beside Nomi, Cassia shifted restlessly. Maris didn’t move.
“And now,” the Superior added, swinging his arm toward the doorway, “my son shall formally accept his first Graces.”
Cassia led the way onto the dais. Nomi followed her, with Maris bringing up the rear. They stopped and faced the dance floor, and Nomi bit back a gasp.
There were so many people: Graces, courtiers, and dignitaries. Servants moved through the crowd, carrying trays laden with food. And everyone, even the servants, wore masks.
How could she possibly find Renzo?
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