AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She didn’t check the windows, but she put on a vapid hostess smile and peeked inside the Fonte suite to be sure her new prospects weren’t making ropes out of bedsheets.
They stopped unpacking at the sight of her in the doorway, and no one seemed inclined to speak, so she mumbled something about staying close by and scurried toward the library, Dante following like a surly shadow.
Inside the vaulted room, she stopped, breathing deeply of leather, old paper, sandalwood, and a hint of something strangely enticing she’d never noticed before.
Her favorite room in the Cittadella, the library was also the closest thing she had to an escape, with books and maps of every kind. As far as she knew, it held a copy of every important book printed on Saverio, and many from before Dea created the sanctuary islands. Even better, the rows of shelves held plenty of less pompous books as well, and she’d already worked her way through hundreds of stories that her mother would certainly disapprove of.
Dante looked frozen in place. Unblinking, jaw hanging open, utterly gobsmacked.
She’d had a similar reaction the first time she saw the opulent room. The sheer magnitude of books and priceless art pieces were enough to leave anyone speechless, and this time of day, with everything speckled in rainbows from the sunlight streaming through the tall, stained-glass windows, it was downright magical.
She gave him a minute to take it all in, pretending to study an enormous map of Saverio on the nearest wall. Every town on the island was labeled, as well as the intricate system of underground tunnels, and it was so large the mapmaker had included every major street in the city. She raised her hand to trace the many beaches on the farthest shoreline, resting her finger on a tiny cove with no name. It had been named once, but the words were so faded they got lost in the background. Someday she’d visit them all.
Dante shook himself and sprung into motion, striding the length of the room to check behind the shelves for lurkers. No bogeymen leapt from the shadows, and when he was satisfied they were alone, he began peering at titles and pulling books off the shelves. Within minutes, he had a tall stack.
“What?” He glanced over as though he sensed her curious gaze. “Didn’t think I could read?”
She must have looked as surprised as she felt.
“No,” she answered. “I just didn’t peg you as someone whowould. What sort of books do you like?” A straightforward enough topic, even for someone who seemed allergic to speaking.
He shrugged and returned to the shelves.
“If you have no preference, how do you choose?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“You give insufficient answers.” She crossed her arms. “Fine. I don’t need to know anything about you.”
“No, you don’t.”
After carrying his book haul to an end table, Dante sprawled in a leather armchair. His pose was as relaxed as a sunbathing cat, but he flipped through book after book with feverish intensity, putting one down only to grab another, as if hunting for something.
“You won’t be here long enough to read all of those,” Alessa said, annoyed at her peevishness.
“Watch me.”
She was. Too closely.
Between the soft snick of turning pages, silence beat against her eardrums. She’d never realized quiet had weight to it, a pulse that somehow, paradoxically, made it difficult to hear anything else.
Occasionally, the Fontes’ voices sounded through the walls, making her twitch.
She wandered toward the door, ears pricked.
“Come la cosa indugia…” Dante muttered.
She finished it for him. “—piglia vizio. Iknow. But I wasn’t eavesdropping, just making sure they hadn’t left without me.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you were.”
Alessa perched on the armrest of the nearest chair, tapping her heels against the leather. Her soft dress shoes didn’t make much noise. She swung her feet harder, each impact making a soft thump.
Dante didn’t look up.
Hewouldavoid an argument the one time she wanted one.She reached for a small globe on the end table, spinning it with a flick of her finger. The continents were shaded gray, indicating their destruction, while the islands were painted in vivid color.
Altari’s reclusive population was content to be left alone on their snowy island, buying little and selling less. She could only imagine how they’d reacted to the recent flood of Fonte refugees. Ifshecould hop a ship and flee, she’d risk the long and treacherous voyage to Tanp, a tropical paradise on the far side of the world. Returning ship crews spoke of water clear as glass, and fruit that tasted like joy itself, but while many a captain returned with saplings, they never grew when replanted on Saverio.
