Page 25 of Of Might and Mettle

“You can’t trade your medal,” said Clarisa, pushing it back with shaking fingers.

“And I won’t,” he said. “I got a large reward when I got the medal. It’s more than I would be comfortable spending on myself. Let me put it to good use. Call the inventor, show them the medal, and they’ll know that I can cover the cost. I’ll bring the funds when I return from my mission.”

Zacarías nodded in understanding. “So I see your trip has not been solely for Lorelle’s benefit.”

No, but he would have done it again if she asked it of him.

Antonio stood, his metal knee creaking. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, throat tight as it reminded him of his own home. “We’ll leave early in the morning, so we hope to not disturb you—”

Clarisa waved away his protests. “I’m always up with the chickens,” she said. “What do you like for breakfast?”

Antonio couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, nor the burning of tears in his eyes. “Huevos fritos,” he managed to answer. A simple breakfast, but fried eggs always reminded him of home.

Zacarías stood, extending a hand. “Thank you, Capitán Fuentes,” he said, “for looking out for Lorelle.”

Antonio shook it, nodding.

Zacarías directed him to where he’d be sleeping in the back room—the furthest location from the stairs leading to the bedrooms on the second floor—and Clarisa came to see if he needed anything—water, food—before going to bed. What he really needed was the privacy of taking off his leg and tending to the blisters that he knew would be there, but he could do that later. Once he got back to the castle and warned the king of the threat he knew existed, even if he couldn’t say when it would take place.

Clarisa’s silhouette passed the door, and a sudden urge to speak took hold of Antonio.

“Señora,” Antonio said, and she paused. “There is one more thing. Maybe not for me, but for Lorelle. She’s not just performing in the ballet for the princess—she’s the principal dancer.”

Clarisa let out a shaky breath, as if she was fighting tears. “Gracias, Capitán,” said Clarisa quietly. “Buenas noches.”

Chapter fourteen

Charades

Lorelle dressed before dawn, the cool morning breeze all too refreshing for the churn of emotions that burned through her.

She’d explored her old room a little bit the previous night, after she’d stormed up there to escape the sensation of drowning. Her old clothes were gone, no doubt donated to another, much more loved child of a family, and all that was left were her first ballet slippers, the tattered fabric sewn together with a more skilled hand at sewing than Lorelle’s. Tía Clarisa must have stitched them back together, and with a bit more allowance than before, so that she wondered for a moment whether she might even be able to wear them.

She dressed in the same clothes as the day before and left the room. When she was at the top of the stairs, voices reached her ears, and she froze at Antonio’s laugh mingling with her uncle’s.

Her chest tightened at the laughter, and resentment dug an even deeper root into her chest.

She hadn’t known what she’d expected showing up on her family’s doorstep, but it wasn’t being replaced. That Antonio would find a way to fit into her family, like the last note in a suspended chord, while she had missed the beat entirely.

She went to the foyer. It looked so much different than it had the previous night, now under the clear predawn light. It was achingly familiar, and that stabbed a knife of pain through her.

Peluche’s growls came down the hall, and then he was at her feet, clawing at her legs in greeting. She scooped him up, despite his yelping protests, and hugged him tight.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, with the telltale creak of metal, and Antonio appeared in the foyer. Surprise lit his features at seeing her up. “Would you like breakfast?” he asked. “Your aunt made—”

“Let’s take it on the road,” she said quickly. “We need to get going.” Aside from the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be there another minute, she only had three days before the ballet performance for the princess’s birthday.

Confusion drew his eyebrows together, but he nodded, as if chastised by his superior for being distracted. He disappeared down the hall, and Lorelle was left with the feeling of a growing chasm between them.

But she’d heard him last night. Heard her aunt and uncle. How they were more familiar with him than with her. How was it that Antonio had been enveloped into her family faster than she had been as an orphan at eight years old? She’d barely started to process her parents’ deaths, explore her dream of dancing, and her aunt and uncle had sent her to an academy on the farthest side of the island.

Hot words burned on her tongue, but she swallowed them when Antonio emerged, followed by her aunt and uncle.

“Lorelle,” Tía said, “can we—”

“We have to go.” Lorelle opened the door.

Antonio’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Just wait,” he said. “They want to tell you something.”