Page 47 of This Vicious Grace


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As they waited for dessert to arrive, Dante stretched his legs, clasping his fingers behind his head. His easy movement cut through the tension like a fit of giggles during temple.

Alessa wasn’t the only one who shot him a sidelong glare.

Kaleb snapped his fingers at Dante. “Make yourself useful and bring us another bottle, will you?”

Alessa grimaced. “Please?”

Dante snatched a bottle from the sideboard and thumped it onto the table, rattling the dishes, and stalked back to his corner.

“Can’t find good help anywhere,” Kaleb muttered, poking at his plate of freshly made gnocchi dripping with garlic butter.

“He’s a guard, not a servant,” Alessa said.

“So, how’s this going to go?” Kaleb said. “You torture us until there’s only one left, and thewinner’sthe last one standing?”

Nina looked on the verge of tears and she didn’t seem to notice that her powers were causing the spoon in her grasp to bend in half. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Kaleb said. “Should I pretend we’re thrilled to be here? Overjoyed to become the next sacrificial lambs?”

“Enough, Kaleb.” Josef’s cheeks flushed darker. “You’re being blasphemous.”

“And a bigger ass than usual.” Kamaria mimed a stabbing motion with her butter knife.

“So.” Saida let out a gust of air. “I read this great book about the power of positive thinking, and I highly recommend it.”

Kaleb cut her off. “Positive thinking didn’t save Emer, Ilsi, or Hugo, and it won’t keep her from killing you, too.”

“I have no intention of killinganyone,” Alessa said. “My previous Fontes did not die with one brief touch. We… persisted, because they’d accepted their role and were committed to the task. I’m not asking that of you. I think—I mean, I’mconfident—with time and practice I can modify my strength.”

“See?” Saida smiled with ferocious optimism “She’s been working on it. Positive thinking and practice. It’ll all work out.”

“And if that cult comes for our heads before then?” Kaleb asked.

Alessa abandoned the last echo of her smile. “They won’t come for you—they’ll come for me. And if I thought it would save Saverio, I’d let them.” She paused to let her words sink in. “But there’s no proof for their theories.”

Nina’s head jerked between them. “What are you talking about?”

Kamaria pressed her temples. “Do they keep you locked in a tower, Nina? Some crackpots are saying she’s not a real Finestra, and the only way to raise the real one is to… you know.” She grimaced an apology toward Alessa.

“Are you talking about Padre Ivini?” Nina frowned. “He visited my youth group last week and he didn’t seem like a crackpot to me. Every individual communes with Dea in their own way and he is entitled to his interpretation, even if we disagree.”

“Not when his interpretation means assassinating Dea’s chosen savior,” Kamaria said.

“I’m sure he’s nevertoldanyone to do that.”

Josef coughed loudly, saving Nina from wedging her foot any farther into her mouth.

Alessa held in a groan. Somehow, in all the worst-case scenarios she’d imagined, she hadn’t expected her first meal with the Fontes to start with a casual chat about her death.

“Yes, well,” she said. “There’s no proof a Finestra dying would cause another to rise, so you’re stuck with me.”

Kaleb’s eyes narrowed. “No proof it wouldn’t.”

Kamaria tipped her glass to Kaleb. “If you’re trying to get eliminated by being insufferable, truly excellent work.”

“I aim to please,” Kaleb said, admiring a tiny spark he’d generated between his thumb and pointer finger. “How’s your brother, Kamaria? Oh, wait. He ran away, didn’t he? I knew my appetite was off. Must be the lingering stink of treason.”

Kamaria looked murderous.

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