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“They make you memorize that speech?”
“No.”
Yes.
Alessa flicked the water, creating angry ripples. “If our soldiers could drink from the fountain, thousands more might survive every Divorando. It’s appalling that anyone could be so selfish.”
“Peopleare selfish,” Dante said. “Everyone just pretends to care about others, hoping they don’t get found out.”
“How delightfully cynical. All the more reason to have the ghiotte as a cautionary tale.”
He scoffed. “Against what? Healing?”
“Selfishness. I always assumed the Finestra was naturally selfless. But I’m not.” She couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice. “I think that’s why it keeps happening. I’m being punished.”
Dante seemed to have used up his capacity for conversation.
Alessa stared at the water, wishing she could pull the confession back and wipe it from his memory. What was it about speaking to someone you couldn’t see that made one want to overshare?
Right when she thought the conversation was dead and buried, he spoke. “If you even try, you’re better than most.”
Her lips twitched into a grateful smile. “Why, Dante, are you being nice to me?”
“Not intentionally.” A long silence. “You staying in there all day?”
“Do you have somewhere to be?”
She was tempted to stay in longer, simply to aggravate him, but if she stayed another minute, he might have to fish her out after all. Besides, the Fontes would arrive soon. By evening, they’d be alone together for the first time. Well, their first time alone withher. For all she knew, they met weekly to discuss how much they loathed her.
Alessa stood, watching the water drip down her legs before reaching for a fluffy robe. Bundling up, with a few pats to be extra sure everything was covered, she walked over to where Dante reclined on the stairs, hands behind his head.
He looked up at her through a fringe of dark lashes. “You didn’t drown.”
“Maybe next time.”
Sixteen
Tristo è quel barbiere che ha un sol pettine.
Do not risk all your eggs in one basket.
An hour later, Alessa paced before her favorite bench in the farthest corner of the gardens. Hidden by the tangled branches of a lemon tree, she couldn’t see the Cittadella, only leaves and flowers. Sometimes, tucked away there, in a world so green and lush it felt like paradise, serenaded by bees and birdsong, she could almost forget her captivity. Not today.
She must have looked like a chicken trying to fly, hands fluttering by her sides, but she didn’t care. She’d killed three Fontes—three—and her brilliant plan to avoid killing another was to bring themallto the Cittadella? The phrase “all your eggs in one basket” wasn’t ominous enough for the occasion.
“Looking for something, Finestra?” Dante said from his position propping up a nearby tree.
Courage. Conviction.
She should have arranged to greet the Fontes one at a time,each a separate drop of poison on her tongue, rather than swallowing the whole bottle at once.
Dante stepped back from the tree and turned to eye it, drawing one of his knives.
Alessa’s heart hitched, even though he wasn’t aiming at her when he threw. It stuck in the smooth bark, vibrating.
“I feel ridiculous calling you ‘Finestra.’ Window.”
“Don’t you know? I am awindowto thedivine.” She laughed darkly. “I offer humanity a glimpse of perfection and shine holy light down upon all. You should really be taking advantage of my proximity and basking in it.”
