Page 36 of Of Might and Mettle

“Or silence you.”

The guard’s words stopped her cold. She swallowed. “I know where my father is. Come.”

“You can’t be seen with me, princess,” he said, ducking further into the shadows. “It’s too risky for you when they know who I am.”

Fear pressed in. This guard would be faster if he could find Papá on his own, not following her wobbling footsteps. “My father will be meeting in the councilroom,” she said. “You can find him there now. There are servant’s passages that can take you—”

A hand caught her elbow, and a figure appeared between her and the guard. Teresa yelped and yanked her arm free, feeling the pain in her tender shoulder but creating distance anyway.

Cerise stood before her, concern etched into her features. “I’m sorry I scared you, princess,” she said. “But your mother is looking for you. The ballet is about to begin.”

Teresa swallowed down the sudden burst of panic. She caught the guard’s gaze behind Cerise, and he nodded solemnly. He would warn her father.

She could play her part as well to keep her kingdom safe. She would warn her mother, her family. And hopefully, this time, someone would listen.

Chapter twenty

The Faceless Crowd

Lorelle stood in the wings, waiting for her music cue to step out on stage. Isabel had helped her fix her hair and tie her shoes for the performance. La directora had tried to offer the role of Maria to other dancers, but none took it. Vanesa spoke up for it, but la directora only glared at her, as if she blamed her for embarrassing the company, and the role went uncontested back to Lorelle.

Isabel hugged her now. “You’ve earned this,” she whispered. “Don’t let that girl get to you.”

She wouldn’t, but she still didn’t understand why Vanesa would go to such lengths just to get the role, shoving her during rehearsal and exposing her secret. It couldn’t have been solely jealousy—Lorelle wasn’t a better dancer than Vanesa, just better at memorization—and she doubted Vanesa had done it out of murderous intent, but what else was there? Vanesa could be a bit petty, but Lorelle would have never thought her fellow dancer to be cruel. Maybe Vanesa was hoping for favor from the royal family. Wasn’t that what Lorelle herself was seeking? Favor from the princess?

She shook it away. She didn’t have time to worry about Vanesa’s motives. The princess had given her a chance to perform, one last chance to prove herself, and she would take it. She checked the ribbon at her elbow, making sure her right glove was on tight over her hand.

Peluche slumbered in a dark corner, nestled as he was in her satchel. He hadn’t left her side since he’d bounded into the theater that morning. The servants had all but decided to cast him outside of palace grounds before Lorelle had heard what was happening and claimed him. She didn’t want to think of what it meant that the pup was here. Could it be that Antonio had abandoned him? She hoped that he’d at least have told her if he no longer wanted Peluche . . . but something in her balked at the idea. That wasn’t the Antonio she’d come to know.

The music crescendoed, and her thoughts slipped away as she straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t Lorelle anymore, but Maria, on her way to greet the wooden soldier sent by the Toymaker.

In the audience, smiling faces greeted her entrance, and Lorelle’s heart soared with warmth that flowed through her. Smiles flashed while she danced her routine, and claps reached her over the music when the number ended, transitioning to the next. At least with the smiles and applause she could pretend she wasn’t so alone. But it wasn’t the same as before. When she looked out, she almost expected to see the steady gaze of a certain captain, but she caught on another familiar gaze and almost broke character.

Tía Clarisa and Tío Zacarías sat in the second row, just three seats from the center aisle, beaming at her. Tears brimmed her eyes, and her smile wobbled, but she blinked it back, remembering her role and flowing into the next dance as the wooden soldier emerged.

The flutes fluttered staccato notes as she gestured, pantomiming her desperate request for the soldier’s help against the mice. Trumpets sounded with the soldier’s brave response, waving his musket that the Toymaker had given him.

Then they went on to gather forces, to speak to the rest of the toys in the kingdom: the brass soldiers, jack-in-the-boxes, windup clockwork animals, plush stuffed bears and wolves, and even a few china dolls.

As Lorelle stepped off the blinding lights of the stage, she let the tears come in full force. Isabel was at her arm, steadying her.

“¿Qué pasó?” she asked, voice low in a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes flashing over Lorelle’s shoulder to other dancers flitting around them. “Who pushed you?”

Lorelle shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just, my family, my aunt and uncle—” Her throat tightened and she couldn’t speak any more.

Isabel nodded. “They’re here,” she said softly. “Are you glad?” Even though Isabel asked carefully, she looked as if she were ready to defend her should Lorelle say otherwise.

Oh, how a part of her wished she could go to them now. Even if she didn’t know what she would say, at least she knew they would wrap her up in a hug like when they’d taken her in.

But then they’d given her up to the academy. Turned her away. Her mouth went dry. “I—I don’t know,” she said.

La directora caught them. “What’s going on?” she snapped, her eyes flashing when she caught sight of Lorelle. Lorelle quickly dabbed at her eyes, hoping she hadn’t smudged any of the dark lines accentuating her eyes.

“Nothing.” Lorelle stepped back. “I need a moment to freshen up.”

She ducked away from both Isabel and la directora, backstage toward a few rooms where other dancers waited for their turns. A couple of corps mice girls waited here, playing some kind of card game. They glanced up when Lorelle passed and then did a double-take, but Lorelle didn’t stop. She didn’t want to hear what jeers came from their quiet whispers behind her.

“Permiso,” one voice called meekly. One of the mice girls, by the young tone of her voice.