Brow furrowing, the stranger studied her.
“What?” she demanded.
“You trying to burrow into the wall?”
Her cheeks burned. Fine, so she wasn’t brave, she wasn’t strong, and she wasn’t up to being a savior, but he didn’t have to look at her like he knew. “I was getting out of the way.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“It’s polite. A concept you’re clearly not familiar with. They’ve seen the damage I can do.” Bitterness singed the edges of her words. “I can’t blame anyone for keeping their distance.”
He gave her a level stare. “Then let them walk around you.”
She hadn’t even told him which way to go, but the aggravating stranger strode away, leaving Alessa alone in the hallway. She stood there, silent, in the half-light.
Let them walk around you.
As though it were that simple.
* * *
“Ah, Finestra.” Tomo stood, adjusting the hem of his emerald jacket as Alessa entered the military records room. “Our blessed vessel.”
Alessa forced a strained smile. The damned vessel again. Once, she’d been a person. Now she was a tunnel. A basin. A lens. Or whichever metaphor Tomo came up with to help her understand her role. But understanding wasn’t the problem. She simply had no idea how to do it.
He and Renata had years to practice together before their battle, while she’d give her right hand for a few months. Well, maybe not a hand. She’d need both to hold on to her Fonte and a weapon at the same time. Maybe a foot. Or an ear. She’d already nearly lost one that afternoon, and with the right hairstyle, no one would even know.
Renata looked up from the table scattered with books. “We’ve told her a thousand times, dear. I doubt another metaphor will make the difference.”
Tomo deflated. “The bridge to understanding is constructed of words.”
“Thank you for trying, Tomo,” Alessa said, easing into a chair. “You do have a beautiful way with words.”
Tomo rapped his pen on the table. “The only visual aid I can think of is a prism, and it fractures light, while a Finestra does the opposite, merging the colors…” He wandered off, muttering about wavelengths.
The book in front of Alessa might have held history’s greatest secrets, but it was written in the old language, so she’d never know. It was too heavy for her to slam shut, and her dramatic gesture became a wrestling match as the pages flipped back in the opposite direction.
Renata closed the ancient tome in front of her, sending up a puff of dust. “Pages of flowery prose, but no actual advice. Bunch of would-be poets. I swear, if I could meet the Finestre of old, I’d slap some sense into them.”
“Ooh, let me do it.” Alessa ventured a smile. “It would hurt more.”
Renata strode across the room, midnight blue skirts parting to reveal green tights. After Ilsi’s death, people had begun eying Alessa’s delicate lace gloves and sandaled feet like they were venomous snakes, so she’d covered up. Renata had added tights beneath her own skirts soon after, insisting she simply loved colors too much to settle on one.
“Tell me again,” Alessa said, trying to sound upbeat. “What should it feel like?”
Renata left a chair between them, dark eyebrows drawing together as she propped her chin in her hands. “To sustain a note, a singer gathers the precise amount of breath, then carefully modulates their volume.”
“But how do I know how much? Singers don’t learn to sing by being silent.”
Tomo dropped a prism on the table. “Oh, Renata, let me try. She needs to practice with someone, and I haven’t had an episode in months.”
Renata’s expression shuttered. “Absolutely not.”
Alessa traced invisible circles on the table. Sometimes their love shone so brightly it hurt to look at them.
“A Fonte exists to serve.” Tomo massaged Renata’s shoulders.
“To serve his Finestra. You’ve done your duty.” Renata squeezed her eyes shut. “We won’t take it off the table forever, but please, Tomo, not yet.”
Renata was right—Tomo had fulfilled his duty before Alessa was born, and years of training followed by a drawn-out battle had damaged his heart, often leaving him confined to bed for days. He deserved an easy retirement, not getting thrown back into the fray to train a new Finestra with a reputation for draining the life from everyone she touched.
“No,” Alessa said firmly. “I need you both alive. I can’t do this without you.”