Page 22 of Of Might and Mettle

Now, she felt like she was rocking on the waves, a small raft in the midst of a hurricane, and she would soon be sinking, sinking, beyond any hope of swimming up to the light.

Antonio pressed a hand to her shoulder. “I can explain what we’re doing here if you need me to,” he said quietly.

Swallowing, she nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. Didn’t trust herself. Not to spew all the tangle of emotions coiling within her now that she was within these walls. Now she was once again on stage, once again on display, and oh, so very alone.

“You’re not alone,” Antonio said quietly. “You’ve got God. And me.”

She stole a glance at him, and found warmth in his smile that thawed the ice from her veins. He steeled his shoulders, and she mimicked his motion, taking a deep breath, preparing to step out on stage.

“Thank you, Antonio.”

He grinned. “Don’t thank me yet.” And he plopped Peluche onto her arm. “You’re on Peluche duty.”

She laughed. “You called him Peluche.” She shot him a wry grin. “I knew you liked the name.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed. “Just for today. Tomorrow he’s Brutus.”

“Nice try,” she said, chuckling.

Chapter thirteen

Homecoming

“¿Quiere más?” Señor Zacarías asked, not waiting until Antonio answered to pass the plate of yellow rice across the wooden table.

Antonio swallowed his last bite and fought a groan at how full he was. But he couldn’t refuse when his host asked if he wanted more. “Gracias,” he said, spooning as little as he could onto his plate. Across the table, Lorelle wiped her napkin across her mouth, though he was certain she was fighting a laugh.

Better to have her laughing than with that haunted expression she’d worn on her face when she’d first walked in.

“How long have you two known each other?” asked Clarisa, glancing between them over the rim of her cup. Her gaze lingered on Lorelle as if she would ask more, but hesitated.

“Just a few days,” answered Antonio. “I’m escorting her back to the castle for the ballet in three days. On Princess Teresa’s birthday.”

Clarisa gasped, and Zacarías sat forward. “That’s such an honor,” Clarisa said, looking at Lorelle, who only played with Peluche at her side, running her fingers through his fur. “We’re so proud of you.”

Lorelle tensed, and Peluche let out a whine. “Sorry,” she murmured to the pup.

The silence stretched.

“Would you like some coffee?” Clarisa stood, leaving no room for Antonio to say no as she bundled out of the dining space. Antonio almost called out for the woman to wait, that they really needed to get going and find an inn to stay at, but he couldn’t cut through whatever was happening here at the table. It was not his home. It was not his battle.

And yet why did his heart beat out of his chest like he was facing Sir Thomas?

“Where have you been staying on your journey?” Zacarías asked gruffly, eyes glinting as he met Antonio’s gaze. Now Antonio’s heart drummed in his ears like a war drum.

“At an inn along the way,” answered Lorelle for him. “Peluche and I stayed in a separate room.”

That seemed to dull the flare of protectiveness from the uncle’s gaze, but he still looked Antonio up and down as if he was trying to figure him out. Shame flushed Antonio. There wasn’t much to know about him: maybe he had a medal of valor, but it didn’t reflect the truth. He’d never be as strong as he once was.

If they hadn’t reached Lorelle’s family’s house, would he really have been able to protect her?

“Tonight, you are welcome to stay here in your room,” Zacarías said to Lorelle, though she wasn’t looking at him, again fixated on Peluche. He looked to Antonio. “While we may not have a room for you, Capitán,” he said, “you are welcome to stay downstairs.”

Antonio swallowed. “I can find an inn nearby. We have to leave early in the morning,” he said. “I don’t think it would be fair to wake you on our way out.”

“Nonsense,” said Clarisa, stepping into the room with cups of coffee balanced in her hands. She handed a cup to everyone at the table. “This is Lorelle’s home,” she said, “and friends of hers are always welcome.”

“Downstairs,” repeated Zacarías.