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DIVORANDO

Doom had a color. Not quite black, but a dark gray shot with blue that reeked of foreboding.

A distant shadow on the slate sea grew closer and larger, expanding to hide the horizon. Below Finestra’s Peak, the surface of the ocean was still, holding its breath.

The low, steady beat of the infantry’s drum line was meant to evoke an army of steady heartbeats thumping in time. No fear, no doubt, no individuals. A collective.

Alessa’s heart revolted, hammering so fast it seemed to lose its rhythm every few beats.

Windows were boarded and streets swept clean. Her army was a phalanx of gleaming armor, but the wall of metal could not entirely hide the people behind it. The grimy but determined faces of the slapdash militia peered through the gaps, searching for salvation.

Searching for her.

She could almost see herself through their eyes. A girl on a cliff, clad in only a thin shift, a breastplate, and a helmet, her arms and hands, legs and feet bare. Every limb had to be exposed and accessible for herFontes, not Fonte, to easily grasp even if they fell.

They, too, wore minimal armor. Only a tunic of delicate chainmail and a helmet, pants cut off mid-calf.

The Captain of the Guard and his finest fighters manned points around the peak, ready to die if needed to keep Alessa and the Fontes alive to fight. Dante stood between the Fontes and their ranks, a bit closer to Alessa than the rest of the guards because he was still, somewhat, pretending to be Kaleb.

Tomo, Renata, and the members of the Consiglio were barricaded behind the high walls of the Cittadella, coordinating communication between the various battalions stationed around the island to stop any scarabeo who made it past the first defenses, ready and waiting to coordinate the rescue of wounded.

Soon, the hillside would be littered with shredded bodies, the dirt stained with blood.

If she only watched the surface of the ocean, she might have thought a storm was rolling in. A shadow, stretching across the waves, a hum that became a rumble. But the cascade of terror washing over her was not from the weather.

Wings beat, the sound of a runaway cart on a track rolling ever faster down a steep hill. Her heart accelerated. With the ocean still, there was no crash or roar of the waves to muffle the drone of a million wings, the clicking of mandibles.

In every past Divorando, Finestra and Fonte had lived to walk away.

Would they today?

Would anyone?

She held out her hands to Josef and Kamaria.

It was absolutely ridiculous to feel embarrassed while waiting for death, but Alessa shuffled her feet and stared at the ground after letting go for the second time. It was hard to gauge distances over an ocean, and she kept acting too early. And every time she took their hands, holding her power in check, the entire army stomped their feet and banged their weapons together, making it even more awkward when another ten minutes passed without an attack.

As she dropped their hands and kicked her feet to stay limber, Dante broke from the line of Fontes and came over to her. He flipped up his face shield to reveal brown eyes beneath tousled dark hair and smiled his crooked grin.

This close, he blocked her view of everything beyond, and for several breaths, there was no army, no field of weapons and fighters. Only the ocean at her back, wind whipping loose tendrils of hair into her face. Only Dante, who moved carefully so no one would see him clasp her hand between them.

“You can do this.”

“I know.” Alessa managed to resist hurling herself into his arms.

She would, because she had to. And sometimes that was all there was—necessity. She loved her home. She loved the people of Saverio. She would protect them atanycost. It seemed so simple now. It hadn’t, not so long ago, but the past month had reminded her about love, and she’d never forget again.

Saverio did not have to love her, or protect her, or give her anything. She loved the island like a mother loved a child, without weighing the costs or benefits. The way she loved Dante. If hehadn’t come, or hadn’t loved her, she still would have loved him until her dying breath.

Love was not conditional. It simply was.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said and kissed her hand.

A shout rose from below, but the swarm was still a way off.

Confused, Alessa turned to see a man wading through the crowd. The soldiers let him pass.

They shouldn’t have.