Tomo nodded. “We can’t walk the same path again and again and lament arriving at the same destination.”
“Padre Calabrese, esteemed councilors,” Renata said. “We are, as ever, thankful for your guidance and support.”
Tomo pressed a kiss to Renata’s hand and stood. “I’ll begin preparations immediately and instruct the escorts to wait on their doorsteps until they’re packed and ready. We’ll have everyone moved in this afternoon.”
“Excellent, dear.” Renata smiled up at him. “Finestra, shall we?”
Padre Calabrese seemed to realize a moment too late that the tide had turned on him. “Hold on. When will she make her final decision?”
Renata shrugged. “Carnevale. Side by side, our royal saviors will kick off the festivities from the Finestra’s balcony.”
Carnevale was perfect. Preparations for every Divorando involved gathering seeds, young plants, and animals. As long as someone, anyone, survived to open the gates afterward, Saverio would have a chance to rebuild and regrow. When those essentials were secured behind heavy locked doors on the lowest levels of the Fortezza, the people would have one night to cavort in the streets in the beautiful clothes they couldn’t pack, gorge themselves on delicacies too perishable for the Fortezza, and drink themselves silly on wine and spirits. Carnevale was a collective taunting of the scarabeo, who might take lives and strip the world bare, but would not get their wine or chocolate.
“Brilliant, my dear,” said Tomo. “Carnevale is a celebration of life’s fleeting joys, after all, and what’s more joyful than knowing your saviors will ensure there will be more joy to come? A quiet ceremony the following morning, on the Day of Rest and Repentance when there are no services, and the new Duo’s first public outing can be the Blessing of the Troops the next day. Perfection.”
Padre Calabrese blinked, but had no rebuttal.
Alessa dropped a low curtsy, her loose hair concealing the victorious smile spreading across her face. She’d won.
The temple doors had barely closed before Renata whirled on her. “Next time you decide to mutiny, Finestra, please remember to inform us ahead of time.”
Alessa deserved a medal for the shortest-lived victory in history.
She caught sight of a shadow on the floor in the corridor beyond and bit back her automatic apology. “I thought you wanted me to be a leader. Doesn’t leadership require making decisions?”
“It doesn’t mean keeping secrets from us.”
“Oh?” Alessa said, lowering her voice. If the Consiglio wasn’t debating the merits of killing her yet, she wouldn’t give them any ideas.
Tomo frowned. “What’s this about?”
“Do you believe in me, Renata?” Alessa tried to hold Renata’s gaze, but her eyes kept slipping to the door.
“Of course,” said Renata. “You’re the Finestra.”
“Am I? Or should we end my life and see if a better one rises?”
The older woman’s cool expression barely changed, but a subtle play of thoughts tightened the skin around her eyes. “I’ve already told you to disregard that ridiculous man.”
“And yet, you haven’t.”
Tomo sighed. “Renata. She heard us.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I heard you.” Alessa spoke directly to Renata. “I’ve heard the theories, too, and I don’t blame you for discussing them. Your duty is to prepare for what’s coming, and that means weighing every possibility, no matter how unpleasant. But next time, I should be a part of the conversation.”
“I wasn’t seriously considering it,” Renata said, each word sharp enough to draw blood, “but Tomo and I have a responsibility to Saverio.”
“I have a responsibility to this island, too. If you decide my death is the price we must pay—if you truly think it’s our best chance—I’ll accept your decision and do it myself. I will not, however, stand by and do nothing if I am attacked without warning.”
Alessa had never been more thankful for the pockets to hide her shaking hands. She’d never stood up to her mentors before, but it was time. No more waiting to kill or be killed.
Renata reached for Tomo’s arm, and they turned to leave, but the doorway was occupied.
Alessa nearly groaned aloud.
“Who are you?” Renata demanded of Dante.
“Someone who’s terrible at following directions,” Alessa muttered. She gathered a breath for strength. “He’s my new guard.”