Page 26 of Of Might and Mettle

“I have a performance to prepare for,” she said. If she even had the role anymore. And yet, even as she stepped out of the house, her heart felt emptier than it ever had.

She was halfway down the street when Antonio’s creaking footsteps sounded behind her. Despite her anger, cold guilt flushed over her, and she slowed to let him catch up. And then he overtook her.

“Lorelle,” he gasped, “don’t make the same mistakes I have. I’ve felt distant from my family, too, but it’s not only on them. I pushed them away. I thought I was protecting the king, but I was only trying to protect myself. It wasn’t until I met you—” He cut off with a hiss as he clutched his leg, wincing, and leaned against a lamppost. His dark gaze met hers. “You need to stop. You’re going to push everyone away.”

Her face burned at his words. Guilt at having caused him pain threatened to spill words of apology from her lips . . . but she didn’t trust her voice, trust herself to speak, in case she said something worse in the anger boiling through her.

He let out a breath, looking as if he wanted to say more, but straightened. A moment later, he was collected again, though regret flickered in his gaze. “Let’s get you back to the palace,” he said and started down the street.

They reached the coach station, where they ordered an early-morning coach with a bleary-eyed attendant. They waited on the sidewalk until the telltale clop of hooves and a carriage approached. Antonio opened the door for her, and she stepped inside. He followed, settling on the seat across from her.

Peluche wormed his way out of her satchel, bounding across to Antonio as the carriage pulled them out of the main streets of Mar Verde.

The rush of the river reached Lorelle’s ears as they left the northern gates of the city. It was nowhere near as full as it had been when it had pushed them downstream. She remembered how she’d woken up on the riverbank, the gratitude flowing through her that she breathed another breath, but could muster none of that feeling now.

She had dared to believe she wasn’t alone. That it wasn’t just her and God taking it day by day.

But she’d been wrong.

She’d let herself get too comfortable with Antonio, believing that by his solidness he would also be steadfast and dependable. But he had a mission, and his future didn’t involve her.

She was alone.

Just her and Jesus. But today, that didn’t make her feel any better.

She looked out the window as the carriage wove up the inclining street, up to the palace gates, where they were admitted and brought to the front.

Antonio dismounted first when the carriage stopped, and when Lorelle went to step out, he had a hand extended to help her. Without thinking, she took it. She met his gaze, expecting pity or reproach, and almost lurched back into the carriage at the understanding that reflected back at her.

She stumbled as she stepped down, and Peluche nipped at her feet.

She pulled her hand away as the carriage left, leaving them in front of the castle. Insects chirped around them. A few lanterns were lit within the castle, and everyone but the watchtower guards was likely still sleeping.

Lorelle started toward the front doors of the castle, but Antonio’s voice stopped her.

“Lorelle, wait.”

She waited for the telltale creaking of his knee as he walked up to her, but it was silent. She turned to look back at him at the bottom of the steps.

“You got me back to the palace, Capitán. Your job is done. We don’t have to see each other.” She huffed, hoping to hide the shuddering breath that stole over her as hot tears pricked her eyes. “Don’t pretend like you don’t have more important things to do.”

“Lorelle, you are important.” He took a breath. “Look, I know I didn’t say anything right earlier, but just talk to me. You encouraged me even when I didn’t want to listen. Why can’t I do the same to help you?”

Her throat tightened, but fierce loneliness threatened to drown her. “Thank you for your service, Capitán Fuentes.”

Hurt and surprise flashed in his eyes, but then his expression hardened, and she almost cried right then and there. She knew the words she said cut deep. Placating words to cover what she really felt, how she really hurt. That maybe by pushing him away first, she wouldn’t have to feel what it was for him to leave her, too.

She turned and walked into the castle, and all was silent behind her. Even Peluche stayed with Antonio.

That was better anyway.

She couldn’t hold on to the pup any more than she could pretend she was normal off the stage.

She rushed to the courtyard. The familiar strains of music came from the theater, along with la directora’s voice cutting over it. Lorelle went to the washroom, where she scrubbed herself clean with freezing water. She dressed quickly in her same clothes, tying her hair up in a bun as best she could. Realizing she’d never given Antonio his gloves back, she stuffed them in her bag. She would give them back sometime, maybe. She slipped on a spare pair of gloves from her bag, cinching the ribbons tight at her elbows.

When she went out to the courtyard again, the noon sun beat down on her as she crossed the marble walkway to the theater. She’d grabbed the Maria costume from where she’d stashed it in her quarters, but she carried it at her side. No doubt, after missing rehearsal for so many days, la directora would have put Lorelle back as a cardinal and put another dancer in the position of Maria, if Isabel hadn’t recovered already.

Thankfully, when she entered the theater, the dancers were taking a break. Many sat in the audience seats, in their mice costumes, while other dancers blocked through their movements in small groups.