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Kaleb glared. “Whatever. We have real power.”

“You won’t last long enough to use it.”

Kaleb gestured to the wall. “Hence the weapons—”

Dante scanned Kaleb with a dismissive sniff. “A weapon’s only as good as the fighter holding it.”

“Dante,” Alessa warned. Bodyguards were supposed to fade into the background, not indulge in sword-measuring contests.

Kaleb’s hands clenched. “Whoever was chosen as Fonte should have had years to prepare, but we’re all playing catch-up because ofher.”

“Watch it,” Dante said, but Kaleb didn’t heed his steely glare.

“No uniform. You aren’t even a soldier. What do you know about anything?” Puffing himself up like an affronted goose, Kaleb strolled over until he was nose to nose with Dante.

Alessa only had time to sigh before Kaleb’s chin snapped up, Dante’s knife at his throat.

“I know how to find an opponent’s weakness.”

Kaleb’s eyes went wide with fear as Dante nudged his head higher.

“Enough,” Alessa said. She didn’t mind seeing Kaleb humbled, but she shouldn’t have let it get this far.

Dante didn’t move.

“Stand down.” Slowly, Dante lowered his knife, and Alessa hung her foil on the wall. “Thank you, Dante. Helpful, as always.”

Nina chewed on the end of her braid. “Do—do scarabeo evenhaveweaknesses?”

Dante flexed his fingers. “Everything has a weakness.”

Alessa walked over to one of the painted scarabeo on the wall, trying to remember the details of the corpses she’d dissected. “I never paid much attention to their individual vulnerabilities, but let’s find out.”

Alessa spotted the thin, worn book she was looking for on the highest shelf of the library, in the section devoted to scarabeo. Her fingertips barely brushed it, even when she hopped. She turned to locate one of the step stools scattered about and found Dante’s warmth right behind her, trapping her between him and the shelves. She inhaled sharply and pressed back into the books, sending a few tumbling off the far side.

Dante dropped the book into her hands, then stalked aroundthe other side to return the displaced tomes to their rightful places, scowling at her through the gaps. He’d let strangers batter him bloody, but looked mortally offended at the possibility of damaging some musty old books.

Gathering her scattered thoughts, Alessa flipped pages as she walked back toward the Fontes. Diagrams blurred into jerky motion, line-drawn scarabeo scuttling across the page so vividly that she shivered.

“There. See where their armor plates meet?” Using a table as a barrier between herself and the Fontes, she placed the book down, open to the page. They craned their necks to see, but made no move to approach, so she nudged it closer and pulled her hands away. “Dante, could you tell us which moves you would use to strike those areas of vulnerability?”

Dante emerged from the stacks. “I’m here to keep you alive, not play teacher.”

“Fighting off scarabeo wouldhelpkeep me alive.”

He shrugged. “My job’s over by then.”

She would have thrown the book at his head if she hadn’t needed it. She’d probably miss, but it would be worth it to watch his horror on behalf of the poor book.

Josef cleared his throat. “Sir, I apologize for Kaleb’s abysmal behavior, but the rest of us appreciate any advice you have.”

“I’m a street fighter, not a soldier.”

“The scarabeo aren’t soldiers, either,” Kamaria said. “I doubt they’ll follow the rules of engagement. We might as well learn something useful. And I wouldn’t mind watching you do that knife trick again.”

Neither would Alessa, but she suspected for different reasons. Dante was nice enough to look at under normal circumstances, andprimed to fight, he was glorious, but as far as she knew, Kamaria preferred girls.

“What weapons do you get to choose from?” Dante asked.