Page 44 of Of Might and Mettle

“Can we start again?” Mamá’s voice trembled.

Teresa met Mamá’s tearful gaze. Some knot that had coiled in her chest unfurled now. The voice that pounded in her head—of fear—quieted some. Mamá was trying, in her own way, and Teresa couldn’t blame her for it. She nodded, offering a trembling smile. “Sí. I’d like that.”

Mamá took a shuddering breath, as if she had just lost a weight off her shoulders. She took Teresa’s hand as gently as she would tend to her flowers.

A knock sounded at the door. But to Teresa’s surprise, Mamá didn’t hurry to wipe away her tears. She wasn’t hiding the cracks in her facade. Not anymore.

“Come in,” Teresa said.

Yair stepped in. He waved a missive as he crossed the room to them. “Dear sister,” he said, offering a smile, “how would you like to take a trip to Elevsk sometime this year?”

His bright manner and smile left her speechless after the weight of her conversation with Mamá, but Mamá chuckled. Teresa found the words to speak. “Why?”

“Papá and I are working on trade agreements with them. And I figured it’d be a good way for you to see the original ballet. Maybe even snow.” He winked. “You did save our lives, after all.”

She grinned. “I did. And one trip isn’t enough to pay me back. But I want to do more than just sightsee.”

He extended a hand as if inviting her to dance, and she took him, letting him pull her to her feet. “Papá mentioned that, along with your hope for an adventure. The world may be too much for one year, but I can be in your debt until we complete it.” He grinned.

“Maybe I can go by myself,” she teased. “I’m not sure I could sit with you for three weeks on a boat. Or on a boat in general, but it might be better without your teasing.”

Yair shrugged. “If you go, it’s probably best to go in spring anyway.”

Mamá laid a hand on her shoulder. “What else, Teresa?”

Teresa’s throat tightened. It was enough of a blessing that Papá had called on the world-class inventor to come and make her braces. What else could she ask for?

For all the excitement of adventure, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. Just traveling around the island required certain measures in place—and to cross an ocean or enter a different climate entirely would bring unprecedented trials. But she wouldn’t let those thoughts dim the hope burning in her chest.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But when I figure it out, I want the freedom to choose.”

Chapter twenty-six

Home

Antonio had felt nervous standing on his mother’s doorstep, until she’d wrapped him in a hug tight enough to stop his heart beating. The last few days in the castle had been more chaotic than he remembered the last coup—though maybe that was because he was awake and dealing with the brunt of it this time, as King Jairo had placed him as lead investigator. But now that Sir Thomas was properly jailed and all the guards had been vetted, Antonio had gotten a few moments to spare. And he’d chosen to go home.

Now, he sat with Cristian on the terrace while Mamá was inside. Antonio had offered to help, but she had all but whipped him out of the kitchen with the wet dishtowel, saying something about how he would find a way to burn the rice if she left him alone with it. The delicious scent of pernil wafted out the open windows.

“Mmmm,” said Cristian, “I missed her cooking.”

“I need to come around more often,” Antonio answered. Even though the last few days had wrapped up well enough, a heavy burden weighed on his shoulders. There were still more loyalists. The Emperor would not stop. Monte Rico might have won today, but when would things escalate again?

“I’m sorry, hermano,” Cristian said, and Antonio’s gaze shot to him. “I didn’t listen to you. I should have—”

“It’s okay,” Antonio cut him off. “Enough of the ‘should have.’ Things worked out. That’s what matters.”

Cristian smiled. “Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to God.” Antonio let out a breath, pushing the errant worries from his mind. He was grateful that Sir Thomas had been captured and the kingdom retained its independence. He would do what he could to keep it that way in the years to come. Not by his strength, but by God’s might.

Peluche whined at the door, scratching to be let in at the smell of the roasting pork shoulder. Antonio chuckled. “Lorelle spoiled him,” he said. “He’ll be the best-fed wolf in all the island.”

“What’s his name again?” Cristian asked.

“That’s still up for debate.”

Cristian grinned. “Sure. I’m sure whatever name this Lorelle gives him will be permanent. I’d love to meet her sometime. I bet she’s a lot more fun than you most days. So serious.”