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If her life depended on it—and maybe it did—Alessa couldn’t have recited the dinner menu when the tables were cleared, but her stomach wasn’t empty, so she must’ve eaten something.

Now she was supposed tosaysomething. If only she could split her mind in two and let one half obsess about her predicament while the other kept chugging along.

Liveried servers circulated with trays of a bitter digestivo in tiny crystal goblets. It scorched a trail down her throat but did nothing to settle her stomach.

Not all Finestra/Fonte pairings were romantic, so it wasn’t like she needed to find someone who wasperfectfor her. Many took lovers or life partners after Divorando, and it didn’t diminish the divine bond. After all, hearts were meant to love in more than one way. Her daydreams might feature a Fonte who was a partner ineverysense of the word, but in real life, she’d settle for a friend.

Or anyone, really, at this point.

Everyone turned to watch as she stood, and she realized she was still holding her napkin, twisting it until it curled on itself. She bent her legs slightly until her hands were below the level of the table and dropped it. Saved by a tablecloth.

“Um. Hello,” Alessa said. Oratory genius. “I’m delighted to welcome you to our glorious Cittadella, the pinnacle of Saverio’s stronghold and home of our armory, where we keep our greatest weapons.” Oh drat,shewas supposed to be the greatest weapon. “That is, our greatest weapon aside from thepeopleof Saverio. Like me.” This was falling apart. “And our Fontes! Our miraculous Fontes, blessed by Dea to serve and protect. And by protecting, serve.”Why did anyone let her speak? “So, with no further ado”—and no more talking—“we will now be treated to demonstrations by those noble Fontes.” She nodded, smiled, nodded again, and sat with a thump.

Tomo, bless him, began to clap, and it only took a thousand years before others joined in a wan round of applause.

The Fontes stood from their respective tables and made their way toward her, reluctant boats being towed against the current.

Let the games begin.

Seven

A conti vecchi contese nuove.

Old reckonings, new disputes.

“Our first performer tonight will be Josef Benheim,” Tomo said, kicking off another round of applause.

Lanky and long-limbed, with deep brown skin and serious eyes, Josef had always been a solemn boy. Nicknamed “little man” by their teachers, his rare smiles had become even more rare since he’d lost his sister. Or, rather, since Alessatookhis sister from him.

Josef’s entrance was hindered by Nina Faughn clinging to his hand. They were the closest to Alessa’s age, so she knew them better than the other Fontes. It looked as though their longtime friendship had taken a new direction in recent months.

After extricating himself from Nina’s grasp, Josef strode to the center of the performance space. The light glittered on the silver trim of his royal blue tunic as he bowed, his attire a subtletribute to Ilsi, who’d worn the same colors the day Alessa had selected her. Josef wasn’t spiteful, so she knew it wasn’t meant as a jab, but pain lanced through her anyway.

Like Tomo, Josef’s power was to create cold, or rather, to remove heat, as Tomo always made a point to remind her.Cold is merely a lack of heat, therefore one can remove heat but not create cold.Unsmiling, Josef froze the contents of a few waiting glasses. In addition to supplying his family’s year-round gelateria, Joseph’s gift made his family the primary supplier for the iceboxes of Saverio, and their home was one of the finest on the island. Not that his family only used his gift for their own enrichment—that would be shameful—but distributing ice to the poor wasn’t what gilded their home in luxury and thus didn’t come up in conversation quite as often. Of all the Fonte powers, his was fairly straightforward—aim, freeze, watch scarabeo fall and shatter—but it had a narrow range, and that could mean a long, drawn-out battle.

After Josef, Nina minced across the floor in a simple white gown. Her pale skin was nearly translucent beneath a constellation of freckles, but her cheeks went pink at the first polite smattering of applause. She’d come with props—a collection of small objects like spoons and rocks—and used them to demonstrate how she could warp matter, turning solids malleable and changing their shapes. It was a crowd-pleaser, but the more people clapped, the redder she grew, until her face clashed with her strawberry-blonde hair.

The next performer missed his cue.

Tomo checked his notes and scanned the shadows for whoever was up next, and Alessa let her gaze wander to the dark walkways above the glittering party.

Her eyes narrowed at a flash of movement. Soldiers wore blue, and servants wore black, so no one in white should be on the third floor, especially at this time of night.

“Kaleb Toporovsky?” Tomo called out, louder this time, and Alessa pulled her attention back to the matter at hand.

Visibly peeved, Kaleb looked up from his conversation with a handsome boy at the nearest table.

Alessa wrinkled her nose.

Auburn-haired and blue-eyed, with perfectly tanned skin, Kaleb was almost absurdly handsome—if you were into arrogant pricks—but she’d been thirteen to his fifteen the first time they’d met, and while eighteen and twenty didn’t feel nearly as far apart, she could never shake the feeling that Kaleb saw her as an annoying child he was forced to interact with. Granted, he looked at most people like that, so it might not be personal.

Kaleb took his time getting to the front of the stage. “Finestra, Fonte… new Finestra,” he drawled. “An honor, I’m sure.”

An honor for him? Or was he saying they were honored to have him? She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but couldn’t.

Bolts of lightning danced above his palm as he plowed through a dry explanation of his powers, seeming annoyed that his gift made him eligible for anything but lazing about town. And yet, judging from his finery, he didn’t turn down the perks of being god-touched.

Next up were Kamaria and Shomari, copper-skinned twins wearing matching expressions of grim determination. Shomari’s eyes were flat when they met Alessa’s, while Kamaria’s glittered with something Alessa couldn’t interpret. Despite them being the only other set of boy/girl twins she’d ever met, she didn’t reallyknow them. They’d gone to school together before she became Finestra, but Shomari and Kamaria were a year older, popular, and Fontes, while Alessa had been nobody back then. She’d admired them from afar but never tried to talk to them. And now theyhadto talk to her, which didn’t count.