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Alessa plucked at the sheets on the side of the bed. “They’re moving him to an empty crypt while the Consiglio deliberates.”

Kaleb shuddered. “How very gothic. Pour me a glass, will you?”

Alessa reached for the pitcher of water beside his bed, but hesitated before handing it to him.

“Oh, stop. I’m not scared of you,” Kaleb said. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided who’s going to take your place, yet.”

“Why choose?” Kaleb asked. “Bring them all.”

“That would be a sight, wouldn’t it? A whole passel of Fontes on the Peak. We’d run out of room.”

“Nah, one group hug and you’d vanquish the scarabeo with a bigger version of that snowflake tornado you nearly killed me with. Other than backfiring onme,it was pretty awesome.”

Backfiring. Something prodded the back of her mind, disconnected thoughts trying to fit together, but they were interrupted by Tomo and Renata before she’d finished assembling the entire picture.

“It was unanimous,” Tomo said, grave faced. “We persuaded them to wait until after Divorando, but they intend to hold a trial.”

Alessa leapt to her feet. “You said—”

“I said we’dtry.And we will. This isn’t over.”

A week earlier, Alessa would have been mortified to weep in front of Kaleb, Tomo, and Renata, but no one seemed disgusted or disappointed, not even Kaleb with his aversion to crying.

Kaleb struggled to sit up. “After all he did for us, they’re going to leave him moldering in a crypt through Divorando, with no way to escape if things go south? And then what? A public stoning?”

“Hopefully not, but for now, we have no choice.” Renata looked at Alessa. “He’ll be given food and water through the bars, but the guards won’t have keys. We made it clear we won’t tolerate any mysterious disappearances or ‘accidental’ deaths. Justice will be served.”

Justice. There was no justice in putting someone on trial for what they were, not what they’d done.

Alessa tried to hold on to the smallest bit of hope. For now,Dante was safe. But he’d be alone through the siege, surrounded by marble tombs and people who hated him.

“Go ahead,” Renata said, taking Alessa by the shoulders. “Cry. Rage. You deserve to. You’re angry, and you should be, but you get to choose whether it will make you bitter or make you better.”

The siren call was strong, but Renata was right. Railing at unfairness wouldn’t help anyone.

“Your people have never truly listened to you before, but they will now.” Renata squeezed Alessa’s shoulders. “Win the battle, and we can find a way to save him. But first, you must win. Don’t waste his sacrifice. Take the power it gives you anduse it. He’s not the only one who needs saving.”

Forty-Three

Belle parole non pascono i gatti.

Fine words don’t feed cats.

DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 11

As the sun went down, Alessa stood before another gathered crowd in the piazza. The hush of anticipation was so profound, the acoustics so perfect, she didn’t have to yell.

“Today is a day of mercy,” Alessa began. “The Consiglio has decreed that the ghiotte will be given a trial after Divorando, and I—” She took a deep breath. “I have agreed. As Dea bid us, Saveriansmustbe a people of mercy, forgiveness, and welcome, who protect each other from the forces of evil and chaos.”

Her gaze fell on a sharp face beneath slicked-back silver hair.

“There is no divine grace like forgiveness, is there, Padre Ivini?” she asked.

Ivini nodded, his keen eyes assessing. “Your benevolence toward the wicked is like seeing the face of Dea.”

Her smile was so saccharine she hoped it gave him a toothache. “It is, isn’t it?”