She took her time, starting in the back and working her way around to the front, where he watched her tug the long curls straight to be sure they were even. The heel of her palm rested on his cheek as she bent closer to get a better look.
His eyes flicked down to her loose neckline, and he swallowed. He probably had a view clear down to her navel with the loose blouse she’d chosen. He might insist on punishing them both by keeping his hands to himself, but she didn’t have to make it easy for him.
Pursing her lips, she leaned in for another snip. If the only part of him she could claim was his attention, she wasn’t about to let go.
He shifted in his seat. “Are you finished?”
“Not quite,” she said. “I enjoy having you at my mercy.”
Desperation flashed in his eyes. “Do you have to make this so hard?”
She bit her lip. “I’m trying to make it hard.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I can never decide if you’re trying to sound crude or if it’s unintentional.”
“Oh, it’s always intentional. That’s the only thing I learned from all those romantic novels that I actually get to put into practice.” She put down the shears. “There. You’re gorgeous, damn you.”
Golden brown eyes searched hers, but she didn’t look away.
“You know,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “the first time I saw you in that ring, I thought you were the most terrifyingly beautiful person I’d ever seen, and I didn’t even like you at that point. I wanted you long before I knew you were an option, and I know this isn’t the right time, but after Divorando—”
“After Divorando, you’ll have your pick.” He looked unhappy but resigned.
“And what if I picked you?” She held her breath.
“You won’t. You’ll find someone like your first Fonte, and that’s not me.”
“No. You’re nothing like Emer. He was sweet and kind and gentle and the girl who chose him wanted all those things. She never thought she’d go through what I have, but that girl didn’t stand a chance of surviving. Maybe she wouldn’t have fallen for someone like you, but I’m not her anymore—”
Boom.
Dante stood. “What was that?”
Alessa put the shears in her pocket. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound good.”
Dante grabbed the first soldier who ran past. “What’s happening?”
The soldier swallowed, throat bobbing. “A mob, at the gates. Demanding to see the Finestra.”
Thirty-Five
Le rose cascano, le spine restano.
The roses fall, and the thorns remain.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 15
“They couldn’t wait one more day?” Dante said.
The soldier flinched at his anger.
“Let him go, Dante. It’s not his fault.” With salt-stiffened hair and sand in every fold of her skirt, Alessa was a mess and in no state to speak to a crowd, but there wasn’t time to change.
The booms grew louder the closer they got to the front gates, but she didn’t stop until she reached the steps before the Cittadella.
“Where is her Fonte?” Padre Ivini, his silver hair slicked back, blue eyes gleaming with an unholy light, stood in the center of a roiling crowd in the piazza. “Why the secrecy?”
The crowd parted as people shied away from Alessa’s approach.
Ivini stopped. “Ah, Finestra.”
Adrick stood in the group behind Ivini in one of those ridiculous robes, and she shot him a venomous glare. Emotion passed across his features—anger, disappointment … relief?
“You dare question Dea’s choice?” Her voice shook with what she hoped came across as righteous anger.
“No, my lady,” Ivini said. “I know exactly what Crollo meant in choosing you. His final trick will doom us all if we let it stand. Admit it. Your touch cannot save, only kill.”
Panic rose in Alessa’s chest as the crowd rustled around them. “Guards, remove this man from the piazza at once.”
Captain Papatonis and his guards traded uncertain looks.
“The people are afraid, Finestra,” the Captain said. “No one has seen you perform. It might reassure them.”
Ivini smiled with satisfaction. “See? Call your Fonte out here and show us, then we’ll sleep peacefully in our beds.”
Easier said than done. It didn’t even matter that she hadn’t chosen one yet, because none of the candidates were there.
“The connection between a Finestra and Fonte is sacred.” Alessa fumbled for the tenets she’d read a thousand times. “You can’t honestly expect me to perform an act of divine intimacy in front of strangers?”