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She nudged his shoulder. “Good enough for now. We’ll work on it.”
When Josef was gone, she crawled into bed beside Dante.
He groaned and opened one eye. “I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit.”
He wheezed a laugh. “Aw, luce mia. You do know how to make a man’s heart flutter.” He groaned. “Is this what it feels like to die? Should I tell you my name now?”
“You’re not dying. You’re malnourished and not healing at your usual rate. But youcantell me your name.”
“Ha,” he said with a wince. “Nice try. If I’mnotdying, you don’t get it until after you save the world.”
“Well, you’re too feeble to run away, so I’ll get it out of you eventually. Now, sleep.”
At some point, his breathing settled, and with it, her last reserves of energy abandoned her.
She clung to him through the night, legs threaded with his, face pressed to his shoulder, counting the hours in the metronome of his heartbeat.
She woke to Dante’s sleep-roughened voice. “Aren’t you supposed to spend this time in worship?”
Alessa threw the covers back, sighing in relief at his lack of bruises. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
He made a low sound of approval as she ran a hand down his chest. “Gotta remember what you’re fighting for, eh? Didn’t you say you’d kiss all my injuries?”
“You hada lotof injuries, but I’ll do my best.”
When hunger finally drove them from bed, Alessa and Dante raided the stash of food left by the kitchen staff before they’d retreated to the safety of the Fortezza. The morning slid by in a flurry of kissing, strategizing, eating—Dante insisted they “fuel for battle,” which apparently meant snacking every hour—and the occasional stretch of stillness when the full impact of what they were about to face knocked the breath from Alessa. In thosemoments, Dante seemed to sense the shift in her mood before she did, and he’d pull her onto his lap to quiet her fluttering fingers with a squeeze of his hands, holding her until it passed.
During one bout of nervous shivers, he pulled a cloak from the back of the couch and draped it over them.
“What’s this?” He pulled out a bundle of papers, and she took it, untying the string in silence.
“Letters,” she said. “From my mother.” She flipped through the stack, noting the dates written on the top of each, but not reading any further.
“You going to read them?”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed just knowing she wrote them at all.”
Dante gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll give you a minute to think about it.”
He left to take a shower, and she dared to open the first letter, dated on her fourteenth birthday, weeks after she’d left home for the Cittadella.
My dear girl,
I know I’m not supposed to, but I can’t help missing you more than words can say. They held a parade for you today. Adrick says you looked beautiful, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. How could I, when it would break my heart even more to see you and have to pretend you aren’t my daughter?
“Knock, knock. Had enough prayer yet?”
Alessa scrubbed her face of tears and tucked the letter into Dante’s book of proverbs, holding it close as she went to open the door.
“Everyone dressed and decent after all that praying?” Kamaria peeked through a gap in her fingers. “Can’t have my virgin eyes sullied on the eve of battle.”
Nina blushed, and Josef looked scandalized.
“We didn’t want to interrupt your prayer—” Nina shot Kamaria a scolding look for her snorted laugh. “But we wanted to check on Dante, and the sun is setting, so thedayof prayer is technically over. Besides, we have nothing to do but rest, and it’s too early to sleep.”
“We could spend some more time worrying,” Kamaria said. “That’s still on my to-do list.”
