Page 14 of Reverence

“It goes with the territory, Katarina, but I find the entire spectacle ridiculous. The veneration, the adulation.”

“You don’t love that part?”

Juliette opened her eyes to a curious pair observing her closely. Did she love that part? She loved to dance. The dance was the very essence of her. The applause and attention were par for the course. And yet… Did she really love them? Nobody had ever asked her before. What a strange night. What a strange woman.

“From afar,” was all she said, and Katarina nodded. Juliette looked at the pensive features for just a moment longer, recognizing belatedly that she wasn’t the only one finding a deep understanding in this moment. Did she want to be this transparent? After all, this woman was a stranger.

Yet when this stranger spoke next, Juliette realized that whatever efforts she might think to undertake in the future to keep more of herself closed off, they would probably be in vain.

“The papers will portray you as Parisian royalty, putting a nobody who dared to cross you in his place. They will relate how you vanquished a foe with the magnificence of a few words and the flaunting of your crown. They will be in awe and sing your praises. And you will hate that. Because you did neither of those things.”

Juliette blinked. “Oh?”

Katarina slowly intertwined their fingers for just a second, their palms coming flush against each other before she gently tugged her hand free.

“No. You did all of that to save me, Your Highness.”

The earlier premonition of nothing ever again being the same in her life returned tenfold, even as Katarina turned away from her and Juliette was left alone with her thoughts and the lights of the streets to keep her company on the very short drive. At least she would always have Paris.

6

OF FIRST IMPRESSIONS & MIDNIGHT CALLS

Neither Gabriel nor Francesca followed them up the four floors to the penthouse on the Rue de Rivoli. Juliette was grateful for it. Lalande had assured them that they would try to get at least some of Katarina’s things back from the hotel, since she had nothing with her but the evening gown and high heels she was wearing. By the end of the night, the shawl she had wrapped herself in looked more like a rag from all the twisting.

Juliette felt very much like that shawl. And above all, exhausted. Also, not a little awkward. There was a woman in her apartment. No one had been here since Helena had left, her boxes picked up by professional movers a few days later. There had been a lot of those boxes, and Juliette had always marveled at how many items a person could accumulate in only three years of cohabitation.

Cohabitation. The term sounded strange. A cold, detached, sterile word. Helena would probably like that. She loved to analyze their relationship in the cold, detached, and sterile light hanging over a therapy couch. Juliette initially laughed it off as a professional defect and then she stopped noticing it altogether, until she simply couldn’t ignore it anymore. Until every wordbetween them was cold and detached and sterile. Analyzed to death and spoken with clear precision.

When had they become that couple?

At the small cough behind her, Juliette closed her eyes, chasing away the remnants of memories. Helena and she had royally messed up a beautiful thing, and no amount of reminiscing was going to fix that, no matter how many times her ex called.

But that was in the past. In the right here and now, there was another woman in the apartment on Rue de Rivoli, and Katarina Vyatka felt entirely extraneous here. She made no attempt to move farther into the hallway from the front door, no sound other than the slight clearing of her throat, perhaps perturbed by Juliette’s woolgathering, however her presence seemed to change the entire place. The emptiness had suddenly vanished, replaced with a waiting of sorts, like the coiling of a spring, only not tight enough. Not yet. Fanciful as she might be, Juliette felt the palpable straining of the steel.

Trying not to ascribe nonsense meaning to her own melancholy mood, Juliette pointed to the spare bedroom.

“This will be your room for however long it takes Francesca to finalize the renovations. There’s a robe and some toiletries and necessities in the bathroom, and I’ll lend you a pair of pajamas. We’ll see what the situation is with your clothes tomorrow, and if need be I’ll find something for you. Knowing Francesca, she will have the apartment next door ready in no time, and then you will have more privacy.”

Katarina smiled, the stretch of lips crooked and a bit unnatural. “I don’t know what privacy is.”

Juliette’s eyebrows rose of their own accord before Katarina continued.

“Dorm rooms are funny that way. And after… I had to share.” There was so much more to those words, Juliette could tell.Innumerable saids and unsaids, at the same time.I had to share.NotI shared. Bolshoi had truly guarded their prized asset. And yet, here she was. Free from them.

“Well, you will only share with me for a bit. And I am rarely home. So it might not even feel like sharing.”

Katarina opened her mouth as if to ask something and then bit her lip, visibly reconsidering before taking a longer glance beyond the open door of Juliette’s spacious bedroom.

Ah, Katarina must’ve taken the statement of rarely being home as her seeing someone. Juliette tilted her head to the side, giving her new roommate a closer look. Francesca had all but thrown her sexuality in her face during their screaming match at Palais Garnier, so Katarina, no matter how sheltered and guarded she might be, was fully aware Juliette had relationships with women.

She wasn’t ashamed of who she was. Her profession and her status blessed her with not needing to hide herself too much. And London and Paris had been exceedingly accepting of whom she loved. Would this woman be the one exception? Would she judge?

Before Juliette could refute her perceived busy social agenda as nothing but work commitments, including working with the younger dancers at the Ballet Academy, Katarina found her voice again.

“I don’t wish to pry. And you owe me nothing. You’ve already done so much for me. For an unknown.”

Despite the words being in the realm of gratitude, the tone was acerbic as ever, as if Katarina knew she had to be thankful to Juliette yet couldn’t quite bring herself to fully express it. Or maybe she simply didn’t like her. Nobody had said you had to like those who saved you. Juliette bit the inside of her cheek. Yeah, nobody said that, but for some reason, Juliette wanted her to. Like her, that is. Just a little.

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