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She turned to face him. “Nina swore she wouldn’t tell, and that man has no idea you’re here. Stay until Divorando, so I can drag you to the Fortezza myself and face battle knowing you’re safe and not doing something reckless like trying to protect the docks single-handedly.”

“Always with the hero stuff,” he murmured against her lips. “I keep telling you it’s not my thing.”

She slid her hands into his back pockets and pulled him closer. “You can lie to yourself, but you can’t fool me.”

At the sound of a harsh throat-clearing, they leapt apart again.

Poised at the top of the stairs, Renata’s face was studiously blank. “I forgot to mention, your armor is in your room.”

“Armor?” They were still two weeks away from battle.

“For the Blessing of the Troops.”

Of course. When the sun rose, she’d stand before the assembled army and most of Saverio to bestow Dea’s grace upon the army.Carnivale celebrations were over, she had wed Kaleb on the day of Rest and Repentance, and now the final stage of preparation began. Soldiers would bid farewell to their families, march to their posts, and camp out on every hillside, cliff, and stretch of shore around Saverio, weapons at the ready and eyes on the sky. Saverians with Fortezza passes would begin to move inside in shifts, and those who were marked would nail up every window, erect makeshift barricades, and pray with newfound desperation.

“If we’re lucky, it will be so blinding, no one will notice your Fonte isn’t with you.” Renata speared them with a loaded glance. “Until then, might I suggest you move this reunionbehinda closed door?”

Dying a thousand deaths by mortification, Alessa managed to nod regally. She’d never asked what the punishment was for a Finestra who violated the rules about touching someone who wasn’t a Fonte before Divorando, but not tattling was probably one of those unspoken courtesies each Finestra offered to the next.

Alessa followed Dante inside her suite as Renata’s prim footsteps ended with the slam of a door on the level below, and covered her face. “Please tell me that didn’t just happen.”

Dante was trying too hard not to laugh to answer.

“How can youlaugh? That was mortifying.”

“Consider it a rite of passage.” Dante kissed the margins of her face around her splayed fingers. “Youknowthose two were getting handsy beforetheirbig battle.”

“Whywould you put that image in my head?” Alessa wailed. “Besides, they were wed and blessed, so they were allowed.” She nudged him with an elbow. “I’mthe terrible person who left her unconscious partner’s bedside and got caught groping my bodyguard.”

“You callthatgroping?” Dante pried her hands away from her face. His smile died as they stared at each other, and she knew he was going to bring up leaving, to offer her what little safety he could with his absence in case Nina didn’t hold her tongue. As long as he was gone, Alessa would be able to dismiss any rumors as hysterical fabrication.

But once he was gone… he’d be gone.

Two suits of armor lay on her bed like stiff metal bodies. One, constructed for Alessa’s precise measurements; the other, one of the many usually mounted in the Fonte suite, chosen because it was the closest to Kaleb’s measurements.

“You and Kaleb are almost the same height, you know. Similar build, too. Under a suit of armor, no one would know the difference.”

Dante tucked her hair behind her ears. “I can’t be your Fonte. What would I do, heal myself until the scarabeo gave up and flew away?”

“I’m not asking you to stay for thebattle.” She kissed the hollow at the base of his neck. “Only for the Blessing of the Troops. It’s my last public event, and people will talk if my Fonte isn’t there.”

Alessa twined her fingers together behind Dante’s back.

“Please?” she said. “Stay a little longer and save me one last time?”

The metal was cold and unforgiving, even atop a thin, sleeveless tunic and leggings, as Dante eased a chain-mail tunic over her shoulders, then helped her don the breastplate, and strapped panels to her thighs and calves.

She’d wear gloves for the Blessing, but not for the real battle.

Her hands, feet, and legs would be bare beneath the armor when it came time to fight, so her Fonte could hold on, even if he or she became too injured to stand.

When she’d gotten her first armor tutorial, she’d asked why the Fonte and Finestra helmets left the back of their necks exposed, but Tomo had explained how looking up was essential in a war when your enemies attacked from above. And, hopefully, the Finestra and Fonte would do their jobs well enough that very few scarabeo got within range of them anyway. The troops, densely packed together on the hillside, were a much more tempting feeding ground than two lone figures atop a peak, protected by magic. She hoped.

“I didn’t think he could even sit up,” Renata said as Dante descended the stairs to the courtyard. “How’d you get him into his armor?”

Dante flipped up the visor.

“Oh,” Renata said. “Brilliant.”