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Parting her lips, she traced his lips with her tongue, and his control snapped. His hands were everywhere at once—cupping her face, running through her hair, gripping her waist. He pressed her against the door, pressed his mouth to hers, pressed his hips into her, as if trying to meld his storm of desperation with the tempest raging inside her.
They’d taken a risk, and it had paid off, but Dante’s ragged breath said he knew how close they’d come to losing it all.
“Knock, knock,” called Kaleb. The gate rattled. “Anybody home?”
Dante dropped his head to Alessa’s shoulder with a groan.
He didn’t say a word as she let the others in, but Kamariaeyed Alessa’s pink cheeks with a knowing look as they traipsed up the stairs, chattering and laughing. No one else noticed that Dante and Alessa were silent.
At the top, Alessa realized she had to say something. Tomorrow was the last day for all but one.
“I’m so glad I got to know you all,” she said with a smile. “The Consiglio will see you in the morning to interview you and make recommendations. I hope—” She swallowed. “I hope someone will volunteer, because I don’t want to leave such an important decision to a random drawing or have the Consiglio choose. But no matter what, I’m truly thankful for your hard work, and… and for your friendship. I can’t tell you how much it’s meant to me.”
Saida sniffed loudly, which set off a round of laughter, and they wished each other a good night.
When the door of her suite clicked closed, Alessa and Dante were alone. Her lips tingled, still swollen from his kiss, as their eyes met.
He pointed at her bed. “Go.”
She flushed, her heart pounding.
“Alone.” He sat on the couch. “You’re so close. Don’t let me distract you now.”
“I can’t change how I feel about you.”
“It doesn’t matter how wefeel. Some things aren’t possible.”
Tomorrow evening, she’d stand on the balcony with her chosen Fonte.
The next day, she’d be wed. And he’d be gone.
Thirty-Six
Al povero mancano tante cose, all’avaro tutte.
A poor man lacks many things, but a greedy man lacks them all.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 14
The following day dawned too beautiful to trust. No icy rain or brutal heat, no ominous clouds. In fact, no clouds at all. No breeze, for that matter, but the temperature was too perfect to complain about the stillness, and the world outside Alessa’s balcony rang with the sweet twittering of birds beneath an azure sky.
She’d slept alone, in her bed, heart aching to be near him, to cling to their last hours together, but Dante was more cool than usual.
She decided to work innuendo into as many sentences as possible, hoping the challenge of making him laugh would tamp down her anxiety and dread about saying goodbye.
The Fontes would be sequestered with the Consiglio for a grueling series of final interviews. Their strengths and weaknesseswould be weighed and measured, and they’d be ranked. After, she’d see who was left and who—if anyone—would volunteer.
She had nothing to do but worry until then. She’d worn her loose white Consiglio gown, in case they called her in, so at least she was comfortable while her insides twisted into knots.
Alessa opted to worry in the gardens, which worked out nicely as Dante had plenty of room to pace. She picked a tiny white flower from a nearby bush and pushed the stem into her high bun, then another.
Kamaria was the most likely to volunteer, and if Alessa was choosing, she’d be her top choice. But the whiff of treason left by Shomari’s defection was a variable she couldn’t dismiss.
Kaleb wasn’t likely to volunteer. Nina was so fragile. Saida’s gift was tricky to use. Josef would be a strong battle partner, but in his time at the Cittadella, she’d barely seen him smile. It shouldn’t matter, but the thought of facing Divorando without a few laughs was rather depressing.
By the second hour, Alessa had an entire halo of lacy petals around the base of her topknot and had moved on to gathering a bouquet.
“How long is this going to take?” Dante grumbled. “You have pollen in your hair, by the way.”
