As they made their way upstairs, sobs, faint but unmistakable, echoed from the library. Alessa held up a hand to warn Dante.
“I’ll volunteer,” came Josef’s voice from inside. “You go home with your family.”
Alessa tried to retreat, inching backward, but ran into a Dante-shaped wall.
“And what about your family?” Nina asked. “Haven’t they lost enough?”
“I’m sure whoever she chooses will be … fine,” Josef said, his tone soothing.
“Fine? Ending up like Tomo, or worse?” Nina sniffed loudly. “Renata was a good Finestra and she still broke him. Can you imagine what this one will do?”
This one. Alessa hugged herself.
“I’m older and stronger than you. I can take it.”
“Kaleb should do it. No one would miss him.” From her tone, Nina knew Kaleb would never volunteer. He’d be gone before Alessa finished thanking those who did. “I’ll do it.” Nina’s voice trembled, and Alessa could easily picture her raising her pointed little chin, tears glistening on her copper-colored lashes. A portrait of a martyr.
Dante let out a sympathetic breath.
Alessa couldn’t fight the thread of envy that came with the guilt. Poor, delicate Nina, whose brave sacrifice made people want to protect her.
But not Alessa. People only helped her when she bribed them with coin or because the gods demanded they do so. Sympathy, kindness, love, and friendship—all those precious human experiences that made for a full life—those were for other people, not her.
She tried to hustle away as their footsteps neared, but there wasn’t time to make it to her suite before the couple stepped out of the room.
They faltered at the sight of Alessa and Dante.
“Oh, hello there,” Alessa said. “Didn’t realize the library was being used.”
Josef gripped Nina’s hand. “Finestra. How is Signor Miyamoto doing?”
“Good.” She nodded. “He’s good. Awake, feeling much better. He has these spells often, I’m afraid, and with the excitement…” She bit her lip. “Anyway, please tell the others he sends his best, but he won’t be able to attend our training in the morning. I’ve asked the kitchen staff to send something up so there’s no need to dress for dinner.”
Nina wouldn’t meet her eye, but Josef thanked Alessa, then cleared his throat. “We know it’s not your fault,” he said. “All of this. I just want you to know that we don’t blame you. I—I don’t blame you.”
Alessa swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
Josef bowed and ushered Nina toward the Fonte suite.
If she could have walked down the stairs and out the front gate, Alessa would have kept going until she reached the farthest edge of Saverio, but the library would have to do.
Josef didn’t blame her. For Tomo? Or for Ilsi? Either way, she blamed herself enough for the both of them.
Alessa stepped inside the dim library, lost in thought, and nearly collided with Kaleb.
He jumped back, the whites of his eyes stark in his face. “Shit, you had to listen to that, too?”
Alessa massaged her chest above her pounding heart. “Were you spying on them?”
“No. I was looking for something to drink.” Kaleb held up a crystal decanter he must have swiped from the credenza. “But the star-crossed lovers showed up, and I got stuck listening to their whining. Were you spying on them?”
“Of course not.” Alessa gritted her teeth. “I forbid you to mock them about this.”
“Oh, don’t get your gloves twisted.” Kaleb’s sneer didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll finish this bottle and burn it from my brain.”
He bumped Dante on his way out.
Alessa clenched her fists. “Do you think he’ll tease them?”
“Probably. He’s been a pain in the ass since he got here. Doubt he’ll change now.”
“Oh, right, I forgot.” Alessa rolled her eyes. “People can’t change.”
“I said people don’t change.”
“Same thing.”
“Not really.” Dante tapped the credenza. “You didn’t tell me there was a stash of the good stuff in here.”
“Most of it is ancient rather than aged.”
“Chi ha bisogno s’arrenda,” he said with a wink.
She shook her head with a faint smile, making a note to look that one up. Too restless to sit, she grasped the rungs of a rolling ladder mounted against a wall of bookshelves and began to climb.