Chapter 186

Morning tasted of cinnamon and warm bread.

The kitchens had been kinder than sleep, and Mirella had bullied me into one more spoon of honeyed oats “for the nerves,” which I ate obediently while Dante, Alessio and Malcor went over lists that looked like nets: names, hours, corners where rumor liked to coil.

Dante’s thumb traced small, absent circles over my wrist as he read.

Every few breaths his g