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Kaleb wavered briefly, then ran out the door, calling out his thanks over his shoulder.

Dante gazed out at the purple sky. “They’re going to burn the city down if they set off any more of the big ones.”

“Way to focus on the positive.” Alessa came up behind him and took a chance, resting her forehead between his shoulder blades, her hands sliding around his waist.

Dante covered her hands with his and nodded to the wall, where a dozen glittering Carnevale masks hung. “What’s the point of the masks, anyway?”

“My mother said it was so people could kiss other people’s partners and pretend it was an accident.”

He laughed. “Pick one. I want to see how you look.”

“They’repriceless. They were ordination gifts from past Carnevale Masters.”

“Who better to wear one, then?” He stepped out of her arms and took down a red mask with curved black horns, dusted with gold. Turning back, he held it to his face. “How do I look?”

“Like a vengeful demon.”

He made his next selection—pale blue and silver, with edges curved like wings—and cradled it in his hands. “Then I guess you’re the blessed savior.”

Something hung in the air, a finality she couldn’t ignore. Tomorrow, he would leave. She hadn’t asked him again if he’d seek refuge in the Fortezza or not, afraid she already knew his answer.

Even if she did save Saverio, there was no promise they’d both be alive when it was over.

Dante’s eyes shone as he held out the mask. “What do you say, Finestra? One reckless night before you save the world?”

Thirty-Seven

Contro l’amore e la morte non vale essere forti.

Against love and death, there is no point fighting.

DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 14

Garlic and wine flavored the air thick enough to taste as Alessa and Dante wove their way down a wide street lined with bistros and bars. Crowds of people laughed and grinned beneath lopsided masks, embracing old friends and new. On one street corner, an opera singer belted an aria, while flamboyant salsa dancers spun nearby, and a mariachi band played an old favorite a block away. The cacophony should have clashed, but somehow it was the perfect blend of jubilant noise. Alessa basked in the ferocious joy and desperate love all around.

Dante strolled by her side in the same clothes he’d been in the first time she saw him—tawny, worn-in trousers and a slightly frayed white shirt—and she’d tried to match him as best she could, in a simple, rose-colored skirt, leather-soled slippers, and an ivory blouse with flowing sleeves. A pair of men in robes passedthem without a glance for the young couple in masks. There was no reason for anyone to suspect she was the stiff, buttoned-up Finestra who wore glittering finery at lavish galas.

Dante snagged a piece of chiacchiere from a passing tray, shouting his thanks to the bearer, who was already pressing his treats upon the next lucky recipient. Breaking it in half, Dante held it out so Alessa could take a bite.

Even before the tang of lemon zest and mandarinetto touched her tongue, her mouth watered. Her lips brushed his fingertips, tempting her to linger, but a puff of powdered sugar tickled her nose, and she pulled back to sneeze.

Adjusting her mask, she beckoned him to follow her to a picked-over chocolate stand across the street where three half-melted lumps were on their way to becoming puddles. She took them all.

“Silk isn’t cheap.” Dante pulled one of her gloves off and transferred the chocolates into her empty palm. “Which one’s mine?”

She popped one in her mouth. “Who said any are for you?”

With a mask over half his face, she could hardly be blamed that her gaze kept slipping to his mouth.

Dante pulled her back before she ran into a loudly intoxicated man, grasping her wrist to steady her—or so she thought—but instead, lips met her palm with a heat she felt in her toes. Then again, and both chocolates were gone. He grinned like the Wolf he used to be.

A pair of dancers clipped her before she could scold him for his thievery, and the impact sent her into his arms.

Eyes met, breath caught, she leaned in, ready to dance, to kiss, to—

Dante set her at arm’s length. “You okay?”

No, because you threw away a chance to kiss me and you’re leaving tomorrow so I can marry someone else, she wailed inside her head.