This Cursed Light, page 24
“If you did, I’d have to kiss her now.”
“I’m confident that’s not the right comparison.”
“Oh, gods, is Talia the equivalent? Do I have to kiss Talia?”
“Please don’t kiss Talia.”
“Would that make you jealous?”
Dante blinked. “Honestly, yes. But also, she’d probably slit your throat.”
* * *
Despite his ominous premonition, Dante didn’t register the footsteps coming down the hallway until it was too late.
“I knew it!” Talia scorched Dante with the kind of look that used to have him cupping his balls and keeping his back to the wall, braced for the inevitable knee to the groin or elbow to the kidney. This time he deserved it, so after pulling on his clothes and chasing her down the street, he kept his hands at his side.
All things considered, he got off easy.
Talia grabbed his collar, yanking his head down to hiss in his face. “She’s the Finestra!”
“I’m aware.” Dante pulled free, smoothing his shirt to avoid meeting her eyes.
“And you’re, what? Her guard dog? Her pet? Her whore?”
“Hey!” he snapped. “Watch it.”
Talia made a sound somewhere between a sob and a scream. “I told you to stay away from her!”
“No, you told me not to let anyone know about us, and you’re about to blow that secret wide open.”
“Unbelievable.” Talia reined in her temper just enough to lower her voice. “She’s the figurehead of the church! The one that declared us monsters. The entire reason we needed a refuge from their crusade. The church that hates us. That church.”
“She’s not like that.”
“It doesn’t matter what she’s like.” Talia made a sound of disgust. “She’s the leader of the whole damn thing. You can’t honestly think she sees you as her equal.”
He clenched his jaw. “You don’t know her.”
“I know you. Or at least I thought I did.” Talia closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie.” Dante pushed aside the memory of his powers blanking out. He hadn’t told her that, either, but it hadn’t happened again. He hadn’t let it happen again.
“Cut the bullshit.”
“Fine, I didn’t lie, but I let you believe something that wasn’t true.”
Talia looked more hurt than angry now, so his balls were safe for the moment, but he knew better than to try to escape while she was still riled up.
“Give me a chance to plead my case, at least?” he said. “I’ll buy you dinner.”
Talia was still grumbling an hour later, glaring at him from across a small round table in a closet-sized bàcaro. He’d burned through a few coins already in his crusade to mellow her mood with cicchetti.
“Any number of ghiotte would happily warm your bed, but you just had to plunder the Cittadella’s treasure room,” Talia said, spearing a meatball with a skewer. “Let me guess, she’s magic between the sheets, too?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh, gods, please don’t tell me you’ve convinced yourself you’re in love.”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t blink, either.
“Till death do you part?” Talia smiled grimly. “That’s what Papa thought, too.”
“I’m sorry about your mom, but—”
“Spare me the pity. She taught me a lesson. Family means the people who understand you, who have skin in the game.”
“And sometimes we choose them.”
Talia shook her head in disbelief. “She stole your powers and killed you. Family doesn’t do that.”
Dante rolled his eyes. “She didn’t kill me. She let me save her life. And she didn’t want me to. I saw it on her face when she realized what I was trying to do. Believe me. But she was the only one who could save everyone else, so she didn’t fight it.”
“Then she’s a fool.”
“No. She did her job. She let me save her so she could save everyone else. She was brave enough to live with the guilt of that. I don’t know if I could make that choice.”
“I still don’t understand why you’d help Saverio anyway,” Talia said. “Those people drove our people out and killed your parents. Why would you give your life to save those assholes?”
“I didn’t.” He held her gaze. “I did it to save her.”
Thirty-five
DAYS UNTIL THE ECLIPSE: 13
Alessa’s primary goal for the remainder of her time on Perduta was to dodge a confrontation with Talia. Her second goal was to avoid making a ninny of herself in front of the greatest fighters the world had ever seen.
The Saverians and ghiotte were finally training together, rather than in the general proximity of each other, and she waited for Dante’s signal, poised on the balls of her feet.
Adrick raised his fists with a sigh. “Just punch me in the face and get it over with.”
“You have to try.”
“Why? I’m shit at fighting. I’ll be dead before the eclipse is over.”
Alessa tapped his side with a gentle roundhouse, and Adrick pantomimed a dramatic death scene, sprawling on the stones with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Kaleb grappled with Blaise, losing fast. Sparks danced across Kaleb’s fingertips, but Alessa made a motion like cutting her throat that earned a deadly glare in response.
The non-ghiotte contingent had been strategizing and practicing with powers on their own, but they hadn’t been given the go-ahead to use their powers within sight of the ghiotte yet, and they certainly didn’t have permission to use them on the ghiotte.
On Alessa’s other side, Talia glared at Kamaria. “Stop smiling. You shouldn’t be happy that I’m about to kick your ass.”
“If I’m going to go down, I’ll do so with a smile on my face,” Kamaria said with a wink. “You want to go down scowling, that’s on you.”
Talia’s grin was feline and terrifying. “Sweetheart, I am not the one going down.”
“Great. I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.” Kamaria said with a smirk.
“You aren’t ready for my moves,” Talia said. “Hope you stretched this morning.”
“Sweet of you to worry, but this isn’t my first time.”
It wasn’t unusual for Alessa to hear innuendo where there was none, but she genuinely couldn’t tell whether Kamaria and Talia were doing this on purpose or not.
Talia scoffed. “Big talk for Saverian royalty.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m a spoiled brat, and you’re the rebel bitch. Whatever roles you’re into.”
As long as it kept Talia distracted, Alessa wouldn’t complain.
It didn’t. Talia cornered her in the armory at the end of the day.
Extremely uninterested in a confrontation while surrounded by so many sharp objects, Alessa moved too fast in her haste to escape—never a good idea for the eternally clumsy. Her palm struck a battle-ax and split open like one of Ciro’s fish.
“That doesn’t look good.” Talia watched the blood leak between Alessa’s fingers. “How long will it take to get over that?”
Alessa fought a gag. “Do you really have no idea how regular healing works, or do you just enjoy treating us like a novelty show?”
“I actually have no idea.” Talia leaned in. “That’s pretty deep, though. At least a day, right?”
Alessa pressed harder, stomach churning. She wasn’t afraid of blood in general, but the spurting was revolting. “More like weeks, but I can heal myself if you get Dante.”
Talia stared harder. “You mean he can heal you.”
Alessa stopped walking when her vision went black. “Could you please get him before I pass out?”
“If you can use his powers, you can use mine.”
Alessa had never heard a more hostile offer in her life. “I assumed you’d rather I bleed to death.”
Talia shrugged. “You killed my best friend. Wouldn’t you? But as someone with a motive, I probably shouldn’t be the last person seen with you before you bleed out.”
“This feels like an important conversation, but if I don’t find Dante or some bandages, I’m not sure I’ll remain conscious long enough to finish it.”
Talia thrust out her hand like a dare. Alessa steeled herself. The last thing she needed was to lose control and wallop Talia with her powers. She’d probably retaliate by killing her out of reflex.
Talia inhaled sharply at Alessa’s first touch, but she didn’t pull away until the wound healed completely.
“Huh.” Talia dropped her hand like it was made of filth. “It’s almost like you’re one of us. But you aren’t.”
“You’ve made that very clear.”
Talia dropped the fake smirk. “Then let’s be honest. I don’t like you. Not for him.”
Alessa considered her words carefully. “Would you make it this hard if I were someone else, or is it just the Finestra thing?”
Talia almost smiled. “Why shouldn’t it be hard? It’s not all bathhouses and parties here, you know. In the winter, it gets cold. And we get hungry. You wouldn’t last a year before you started crying for your fancy island.”
“You don’t know me.”
Talia laughed. “No, but I know how this story goes. Cute guy, dangerous secrets. He’s a challenge. You work your way into his confidence and he falls for you, but deep down, you know relationships that starts under that kind of circumstance never last. And when the excitement is gone, you’ll realize everything you have to give up to keep him. My mom was just like you. Infatuated with her ghiotte husband until his little problem made life too hard, then she cut us loose.”
Alessa wavered. How many times had she told herself Dante would get used to public life, that he’d enjoy himself once he adjusted? He’d never been entirely comfortable in her world, and now she wasn’t welcome in his.
“Dante deserves the best.” Talia held her gaze so intently Alessa fought not to look away. She was good for Dante. But the best? She’d never felt like the best at anything in her life.
She realized too late that Talia was studying the play of emotions across her face.
Talia raised her sword and touched it to Alessa’s chest. “If you ever break his heart, I will break every bone in your body and your heart. And I don’t mean metaphorically.”
Thirty-six
DAYS UNTIL THE ECLIPSE: 10
By the middle of their second week on Perduta, Dante had successfully organized the ghiotte into specialized units, and his subordinates were finally stepping up without coming to him for everything.
The Saverians even held their own during training drills. They didn’t win matches, but they didn’t embarrass themselves, and they’d have their powers for the real battle. And, despite a few close calls, Dante kept Talia from “accidentally” murdering Alessa on the training field.
“I’m going to throttle my father if he tries another round of ‘Twenty Questions About Dante,” Talia said, dogging his footsteps as he mapped out the day’s training exercise. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
“Get in formation,” Dante said. With ten days remaining before the attack, he didn’t have time for social calls, no matter how insistent Talia—and Alessa, oddly enough—were about him meeting with Matteo.
Scanning a row of archers, Dante counted in his head. One group was short, and after his struggle to establish the importance of attendance and reliability, he couldn’t let them slip now.
Talia stepped in front of him. “Dinner. Tomorrow.”
He pointed at an empty spot. “Formation. Now.”
He found the missing archer sitting behind a half-built armory shelter. Tall but skinny, the kid couldn’t have been over thirteen, and his expression wavered between dread and belligerence as his general approached.
“What’s going on?” Dante said.
“Nothing,” the kid muttered.
“Your name’s Jakob, right? What’s the problem?”
The kid swallowed. “I don’t want to fight the gods.”
Dante nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
“Aren’t you going to call me a coward?”
“No,” Dante said. “If I didn’t have to fight them, I wouldn’t want to, either.”
The kid scoffed. “Yeah, right. I heard what you said in the basilica. You almost died saving a whole island. I bet you’ve never even been scared.”
Dante blew out a breath. “I wish that was true, but I was scared that day. Hell, I’m scared now.”
The kid’s eyes widened. “Nuh-uh. You’re like a hero. Heroes don’t get scared.”
“You’ve got it backward. You can’t be a hero without being scared.” Dante crouched. “Courage doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid, it means you are and do it anyway. Think about it. What’s heroic about doing something that doesn’t scare you?”
Jakob mulled that over. “I guess so.…”
“If someone you love was in danger, and the only way to help them meant risking your life, what would you do?”
Jakob shrugged one shoulder. “I hope I’d do it.”
“That’s all you can do—hope that when the moment comes, you do the right thing. You don’t have to enter battle without fear. In fact, I’m more worried about those who do. They get reckless, make sloppy choices that endanger everyone around them. Fighters who want to stay alive—who want everyone to stay alive—those are who we need.”
The kid frowned in thought.
“See, that’s the difference between us and Crollo,” Dante said. “He doesn’t care who lives or dies next week. We do. We’re fighting to stay alive. That gives us the upper hand. Being afraid can make you a better fighter.”
“You really think so?”
“I have enough fighters who want to prove how tough they are. What I need are people willing to do the work that’s less flashy, the stuff that keeps everyone else alive—replenishing weapons, building barricades, seeing who needs backup and when. Can you help me with that?”
The kid nodded quickly. “My sister’s one of the fastest sprinters on the island. She’s little and not so strong compared to some of the guys, but you can hardly see her when she runs.”
“Perfect. Round up the fastest kids you can find and meet me here first thing tomorrow. Kira could use more messengers, and we could all use help replenishing ammunitions.”
Dante left Jakob with a proud smile on his face, and headed back to his post. Everyone was still in their places, but there was a shift in the air.
Leo strutted through the middle of his carefully arranged formation.
“I’ve decided to fight,” Leo said. “Your little army can take the day off.”
“You can’t dismiss my troops,” Dante said.
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t fight the invasion alone. You know that, right?” Dante waited … for nothing, apparently. “You can fight with us if you’re ready to be a part of a unit, but if not, I have to ask you to leave.”
Leo smirked. “I’ve beaten a dozen ghiotte bare-handed. I’ll take an army at my back—why not—but we both know wars aren’t won by the people huddling behind barricades.”
Dante’s expression tightened. “Those people huddling behind the barricades have shown up for training every day, brave enough to face a war with the gods. Where have you been?”
Leo’s expression grew dark. “I took it easy on you last time, but you’re getting on my nerves.”
Dante’s thumbs slipped off his daggers. He wasn’t doing this. Not today. “You’re an excellent fighter, Leo, and we could use your help, but if you’re not interested in being a team player, you’ll have to leave. I have to get back to work.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re turning down a challenge?”
Dante sighed. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Leo’s smirk faltered. “You can’t do that.”
Dante shrugged. “I just did. I don’t have time for pointless exhibitions, and fighting each other won’t help win this war.”
Kamaria snorted a laugh.
Leo leveled his gaze on her. “The lady wants a challenge. What’s your weapon of choice?”
Kamaria spread her arms and her hands burst into flames. “I am the weapon.”
“No magic!” Talia snapped.
“Why? Because you’re all too scared to fight us for real?” Kamaria’s flames grew brighter. “Let us use our powers, or send us home.”
“Oh, no; does it tickle?” Leo taunted her. “Cute party trick.”
“Kamaria,” Dante warned. Too late.
Her eyes narrowed, a whip of fire snapped through the air, and flames sizzled down Leo’s front.
He looked down, unconcerned, at the fire burning away his clothing like dry brush.
With slow movements, Leo patted at his hips and crotch to douse the flames before the final scraps went up in smoke.
His clothes in tatters, skin red and blistered—but healing fast—he tipped his head to one side. Then the other.
He raised his chin to stare directly at Kamaria. And began to laugh.
* * *
Excitement crackled through the ranks at the prospect of a true challenge, but warriors primed for battle were dangerous. Warriors accustomed to unnatural strength and healing abilities, even more so.
“The Saverians are not ghiotte.” Dante put as much gravity into his voice as he could. “Do not forget that. If you cause real damage to any one of them, you’ll answer to me. We can’t win a war by brute force alone, but we can hurt our own side, so be smart. Strategic. Precise. Careful. No casualties. Understood?”
“Thanks, Dante,” Kamaria said with an edge of irritation. “And we will also be sure not to cause too much damage with our super-powerful magical gifts.”
Talia snickered.
Kamaria’s expression turned arch. “Don’t get cocky, sweetheart. We repelled an entire swarm of bloodthirsty scarabei after they flew over you, remember?”
Talia pounced and knocked her to the ground. Straddling the taller girl, Talia held Kamaria’s neck with one hand, the other drawn back in a fist. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
