Page 16 of Of Might and Mettle

“What’s so funny?” A voice caught him by surprise, but the pup yipped happily and ran to Lorelle’s feet, which were . . . barefoot?

He tensed, guilt washing over him. “Do you have shoes?” he asked. Had he not paid enough attention to get her a pair in Rio Celeste? Had she been walking barefoot all this time? No doubt that wasn’t good for her—

“Of course,” she said with a laugh, holding her sandals by the straps. “I had to take them off to move unseen, which is a lot easier for me to do than you with your creaking knee.” She pulled fruits from her satchel and tossed them to him. Two bananas. “Can you peel mine? I can tell you what I saw in the boxes while we go on to the next town.”

He had broken the top of the banana peel before his brain caught up to what she was saying. His eyes widened. “You went in?”

She nodded from where she now sat on the grass, slipping her feet into her sandals. Now she worked the buckles with the quick fingers of her hand and stood, putting Antonio to shame with her quiet efficiency. “I got what we needed,” she said, “and then I heard the sailors talk about hiding the bottles at the bottom of the stack of boxes. That the inspector doesn’t tend to look at the last boxes so neatly as the first”—though Antonio doubted that would be the case here—“but I guess they’re just trying to avoid the taxes on the olive oil from the Empire.” She shot him a grin as she stood. “All this protocol for that?”

Antonio let out a breath as relief swept over him. Olive oil. Tax evasion. That was not at all what he had expected. He turned back to the warehouse, but Enrique didn’t emerge . . . and in any case, he would figure out what Lorelle had just discovered eventually. As soon as he ran through the protocols.

She scooped Peluche up from the grass. “Ready to go, Peluche?” The pup yipped in response. Then she looked to Antonio for direction.

“Yes, let’s move. The sun is just overhead. If we keep walking, we can make it to the capital by evening.” He shot a look over his shoulder, enough to meet her gaze with what he hoped was a stern expression. “And his name is Goliat.”

Lorelle laughed.

Chapter ten

One Step Forward . . .

They walked two hours before Antonio’s leg screamed for a break, even though he’d leaned on the walking stick far more than he would have ever dared—at least in front of witnesses. Not that the wolf pup counted; he only chased after the stick with each swing of it. If the pup was older, he might even be useful on patrols around the castle, where instead of walking sticks, the guards carried lances. In his first year in the guard, Antonio had been assigned the night patrols, but now he was the one receiving the reports and organizing the men. To varying degrees of respect, insubordination, and success.

Finding a clearing overshadowed by something more robust than a spindly palm tree, he lowered himself to the base of a large jacaranda. The purple-blue flowers fell about him as the wind stirred the fragrant branches.

But even though he sat to catch his breath and drink some water, Lorelle didn’t even move to take a seat on the mossy soil. Instead, she seemed to be stretching? He drummed his fingers against the ground, drawing Peluche’s attention, and snatched up the pup before he could start getting in her way as she methodically worked through what appeared to be warmups.

Instead of the weapon drills he was accustomed to with the rest of the guard, her drills embodied grace and poise. But both had their own sort of rhythm, and she began to hum as she worked through a few steps, as if following a dance to which only she knew the choreography.

She had taken off her sandals, but even so, her steps were silent as she leapt across the clearing, spinning and twirling like the delicate blue petals of the jacaranda tree twisting in the wind. With every kick and spin, the petals lifted from the ground around her, and with the sun serving as a spotlight into the clearing, she looked like someone transformed. Gone was the vulnerability in her gaze, replaced with a dazzling smile that held so much hope, triumph, and strength.

For a moment, he almost wished he could see her in her natural element on stage. But there, her hand would have been hidden, perhaps as part of her costume. Did she ever really feel at home among the rest of the dancers?

She finished her dance, and Antonio clapped.

Startled, her face pinking, she bowed to her one-man audience.

“Now that I see you at work,” he said, “I can see how you were silent in the warehouse. But I’m still not convinced you would go unnoticed, not with that kind of performance you just showed me.”

Her face seemed to redden further, and she went through their pack for food. “It’s easy when you’ve worked your whole life to fit the mold,” she said quietly, so softly that her words seemed just for him. “I haven’t had a choice.”

And when he met her gaze, he saw familiarity there. How hard had he worked the last two years to be back the way he was before? To show no weakness? To fit in not only with the guard but also with his new rank as captain?

She would have fought her own battle, similar in its own way. But instead of in recent history, she would have fought her whole life.

She handed him some alcapurrias de yuca, and he bit into the fried yuca fritter filled with meat. It was cold and a little rubbery, but filling, and he was glad she’d saved it for now, if only so he would have the strength to keep going to the capital. By his estimations, they were about halfway there.

If they’d taken the main routes, they might have been able to hire a coach to the next town quickly, but that would have meant explaining their situation to someone, and Antonio wouldn’t have a word of the danger out until he presented it directly to King Jairo. Besides, he still needed to learn more about the rumors of Sir Thomas, and he doubted anyone would listen to him if he only came with the rumors and not with evidence. A grappling hook was not enough to convince the king’s guard of the threat.

He’d seen the way the men sneered at him when he gave commands. They’d never done that before his amputation, before he’d been raised up as a “hero.” He was a case to be pitied—for why else had the king promoted him?

The king wouldn’t have, if he’d known of the nightmares and paranoia that seared Antonio’s mind.

They ate in silence, and Lorelle passed little pieces of the meat inside her alcapurria to Peluche, who settled in her lap. The pup was definitely bigger than before, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Have you been to the capital before?” he asked, breaking the silence with a question he thought might dissolve the tension in her shoulders. The capital, Mar Verde, was large and full of life, which he imagined Lorelle would enjoy if she’d been there before.

But instead of smiling, her lips pursed. “Sí.”