Page 17 of Of Might and Mettle

He took another drink of water. Her voice had shot up an octave, but he knew well enough not to ask. After all, he’d all but closed down any kind of conversation with her before.

But to his surprise, she went on. “I was born there,” she said. “Lived there until I was ten, when my parents died and my aunt and uncle didn’t want me anymore . . .” She met his gaze, shooting him a shaky grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “I guess they just didn’t understand.” She waved her hand, the tin fingers catching the light.

Antonio let out a breath. “Cristian did the same thing to me,” he said. “My older brother,” he clarified. “He’s part of the prince’s select guard, and we were close before . . . But now he treats me differently, when I thought at least that might be able to stay the same.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I guess that’s what happens when I get a medal I don’t deserve.”

“What do you mean?” She blinked at him, the genuine tone of her question unnerving him, worming into his defenses like a shaft of light penetrating a dark stormcloud.

His fingers went to the medal clasped below his cloak, and he unpinned it, holding it in his palm. “What does it mean to you?” He held it out. The four-pointed star glinted silver, the word Valor emblazoned at the top only mocking him. In English, it meant bravery. In Spanish, worth or valuable. Either way, that didn’t describe him. He would never be able to face danger in the same way, not if he was so easily unbalanced as to need a walking stick.

Maybe that’s why the king had given him a revolver—because the thought of him fighting with a sword was just begging to let the enemy through their defenses a second time.

He dared to meet Lorelle’s gaze again, and instead of finding pity or scorn, he found a glimmer of understanding. “It means you have mettle, too,” she said quietly. “You were willing to give your life for the kingdom. And you’ve learned to walk again. That’s a strength not many people have.”

He blinked, stunned. The admiration in her eyes warmed his heart, and when she laid a hand over his, he found that he could match her smile.

A growl cut through the air, and Peluche pounced on their joined hands, emerging with the spoils of his attack: Antonio’s medal. The little pup gnawed on one of the points of the star.

Lorelle laughed, and Antonio shook his head, though he didn’t try to hide the chuckle that worked its way out of him.

“Well, are we ready to move on?” Lorelle glanced up at the sky, at the sun now lower, so that their clearing was doused in shadows of late afternoon. He nodded and stood. Her comment might have been about the sky, but the meaning rang clear: Is it time to move forward? A careful question, one that seemed to hold more meaning behind her sea-green eyes, as it did also in his heart.

They resumed their trek through the forest, Lorelle and Peluche a few steps ahead as Antonio followed behind, a hand on his sword. But instead of grabbing his walking stick this time, he pushed forward on his own. This conversation had shown him one thing: he was not ready to move on, not until he could finally lay his failures to rest.

And for that, he would give up his life if he had to.

Chapter eleven

Out of Tune

Teresa settled in the plush armchair of a back row in the theater, smiling as the orchestra retuned its instruments before the rehearsal would resume again in full. The dancers had been at it for hours, and they’d dispersed for a break quickly, before the demanding directora could change her mind on the fifteen minutes she’d gifted them.

They disappeared into the wings, much like how Teresa was currently hiding from her own exacting demands of sitting around and reading. She was tired of learning of the world through pages only. And there was something about the ballet, about the beautiful wintry costumes of Elevsk, that made her feel like she was in a whole new world. That maybe, one day, she could travel beyond the borders of their little island.

Now the orchestra was retuning, and the soft timbre of the flutes against the deep rumble of the trombones made her smile as they all hit the same note. Those who were sharp and those who were flat adjusted, and when the conductor bid them play again, the note rang out in perfect unison. All the instruments, pieces of one body, coming together to produce something beautiful.

And yet, Teresa often felt like there was always some part of her that was out of tune, but never noticed by those with the untrained ear, like Mamá and Yair. And even Cerise, the one person she might consider to be a friend, couldn’t hear her on the days when her world was only ever so slightly sharp.

Even now, though she enjoyed the music, she knew she couldn’t stay too long. With the passing of the storm, her flare-up had lessened, and she needed to conserve her energy until her birthday. Then, since she’d be of age, she could finally have her own adventure instead of only reading about the world.

“Directora,” said a voice, “should I step in as Maria now?” One of the ballerinas playing a cardinal stepped forward, drawing a few gazes her way.

The director of the ballet company glanced around the stage. “Where is Lorelle?” she snapped.

“We can’t find her,” said a stagehand.

“She’s feeling sick,” answered a dancer from the audience many rows ahead of Teresa. “Give her time to recover. She must be with the royal physician. If you need a stand-in, maybe I can—”

“No, Isabel,” the director said sharply. “Recover. Vanesa,” she said, turning back to the girl dressed in red, “get the costume.”

A few minutes later, Vanesa emerged in the silk costume of Maria. The practice went on, this time with a dancer in place as Maria, instead of walking through the steps without the main dancer on stage, as they had been practicing for the last day and a half.

Teresa was so engrossed in watching the stage that she didn’t notice a figure slip into the seat beside her.

“Nadie sabía dónde estabas,” said her brother, whispering so as not to be heard over the music.

She shot him a sideways look, smiling. “But you knew where I was.”

Yair grinned back at her. “I heard the music and made an educated guess.”