Page 28 of Of Might and Mettle

If she went to Elevsk with Papá and Yair, perhaps she could do more than just see the snow-capped mountains and experience another world. Perhaps she could help them, be a voice for Monte Rico, and maybe a voice for Elevsk, too.

Teresa’s eyes snagged on a different movement onstage, a mistake in the careful choreography as the mice circled Maria and the wooden soldier.

Suddenly, a cardinal stumbled into Maria, causing them both to fall, and the music halted.

“Otra vez,” the directora called. The cardinal offered Maria a hand to get up, but she refused. But though Maria didn’t accept, the cardinal grabbed her arm to yank her up.

Her glove came off—along with her hand.

Teresa gasped.

Chapter sixteen

Exposed

The stage lights burned Lorelle’s skin. She could only watch, gasping shallow breaths, as Vanesa pinched the glove one finger at a time and held her tin hand aloft, as if it were a trophy.

“Look at this!” She sneered. “She’s a fraud.”

The tin caught the light, blinding her and blurring with the hot tears that burned her eyes. Even though Lorelle sat flat on the floor, the stage seemed to tilt below her like cresting ocean waves. And she was sinking.

Gasps echoed around her, and Lorelle couldn’t ignore the faces of her fellow dancers. Shock, surprise, disdain, and contempt swam in the sea of faces. A few lighthouses of pity beamed from the crowd, but no one stretched out a hand to help her up. Not one lifeline was extended to lift her from drowning as she was.

Vanesa leaned down, lowering her voice so it wasn’t heard above the whispers. “That’s what you get for interfering,” she snapped. She dropped Lorelle’s hand, where it resounded as it hit the ground.

Lorelle snatched it up.

“Directora!” Vanesa called, moving to the front of the stage. “What are you going to do about her?”

Lorelle stood unsteadily, testing her ankles. At least nothing was twisted, even if she had been shoved. Her fingers gripped her tin hand in a strong grasp. Lorelle took a breath and raised her chin. Even though her chin wobbled, she wouldn’t give Vanesa the satisfaction of gloating.

“Someone with those . . . rasgos,” la directora answered, “is not fit to be a part of the company.” Her gaze flickered to Lorelle, her eyes freezing and unrelenting.

And that was enough to break her. Tears overflowed, and she ran from the stage.

As Lorelle ran, she heard Vanesa’s crowing. “I should dance as Maria . . . I don’t know why you picked her in the first place. I knew there was something off about her . . .”

And then Vanesa’s voice was swallowed by the curtains as Lorelle pushed through the wings of the stage, forcing her way past clueless dancers and stagehands and exiting from the back of the theater.

As she stepped into the courtyard, misting rain hit her skin like a cold wave dousing her. She threw the tin hand on the marble walkway behind her, the metal clattering as it hit the ground, and she was sure the pinkie finger was truly broken now, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Her world was tilting on its axis. It felt as though the stage had been pulled out from beneath her. She wasn’t strong enough to stay afloat in the storm raging around her.

She rushed into the dancers’ quarters, lit only by a flickering gas lamp, and she hurried to her pack. Her fingers trembled as she hefted it over her shoulder. Had it always been this heavy?

She tried to grasp for the words that she knew God said of her, but the only one that hit her then was, My grace is sufficient for thee: For my strength is made perfect in weakness.

But right then, she felt too weak to even stand. And not a drop of divine strength flowed through her to carry her out the door into an uncertain future. But somehow, even if she didn’t see it or feel it, God would help her through this moment. Even if she had to wade through a difficult season in the next few months as she figured out what she would do. Without the company, with her secret exposed, she had little to go for her.

“Jesus,” she whispered, “I really need You right now.”

Footsteps sounded, and she tensed.

“If you’ve come to gloat, Vanesa, don’t bother,” she snapped. “I’ll leave you the costume. You already have one of the gloves.”

Metal caught the light as the figure stepped forward. But it wasn’t Vanesa holding her tin hand, but a young woman. She wore a plain pink dress, a red woven shawl draped across her shoulders. Red ringlets fell in fiery waves, catching the light and making her blue eyes all the brighter. And it was only when Lorelle spotted the crown on the young woman’s head that she realized she was facing Princess Teresa herself.

Lorelle fell to one knee and bowed her head. “Perdóname, princesa,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you. I’m leaving the castle now with all my things. I just need . . .” She raised her eyes to the tin hand clutched in the princess’s hands. “I just need my hand, and I won’t bother you anymore.”