Page 19 of Reverence

One corner of the unsmiling mouth twitched. Juliette broke into a light sweat.

“Scared of blood, Monsieur Flanagan?” Katarina’s words were dry as a bone, and yet the glint in the hooded eyes spoke volumes.

Gabriel played along. “Terrified. And completely in awe of the blood-drawing prowess.”

The corner of the mouth that had twitched earlier was allowed to lift slightly more in an enigmatic half smile. “Then you have nothing to be afraid of, Monsieur Flanagan. Awe is an appropriate emotion.”

Jumping off the windowsill, Francesca winced visibly, cursed, then picked up her cane and thumped it on the floor once, the customary attention-grabbing gesture as effective as ever. “This is all very cute, but we have work to do.”

Juliette saw Katarina pull on her blouse, clearly needing to change, and wondered what she could change into, to begin with. The thought of lending her some spare leotards, which really were like second skin?—

“I need the three of you in my office. Vyatka, you missed the morning class and will need to catch up in the afternoon. Jett, you’ll figure out her clothes situation after we speak. Gabriel, grab some food for us from the cafeteria and then come upstairs. This is a longer discussion, and I don’t want any ears. I have a feeling that with the three of you, the gossip will spread anyway.”Francesca gave Gabriel a sharp glare before turning and heading in the direction of the exit and the staircase.

“Why does she think I will be the one to spill the beans on whatever harebrained scheme she is concocting this time?” Gabriel pouted and picked his bag off the floor.

“Maybe because it’s always you?” Juliette tried to act as naturally as possible, still not meeting Katarina’s eyes. Gabriel guffawed and threw his bag her way.

“Since I’m on lunch duty, you can carry my stuff, Jett.” Only a swift maneuver saved her face from being smashed by whatever heavy and smelly items he lugged around in that sack, and Juliette sighed before setting it on her shoulder.

“I see you are doing his work again.”

Juliette almost jumped, the voice and the comment so unexpected despite her being so focused on how she appeared to Katarina. Katarina, who seemed to be seeing right through her act.

“I’m not certain I get your meaning.”

“Even in your pas de deux, you carry his weight. He is one of the best male dancers I’ve ever seen, but he is just that—a male.”

There was so much rancor, so much bitterness, and yet the tone was neutrality itself, a mere observation.

Juliette wanted to ask questions. To prod just a bit. After all, the former Soviet prima had been rumored to have been engaged. There was some kind of affair attached to her name and that of the dancer who had defected a few years ago in London. Foltin.

Juliette had seen him a few times. He’d been much older than her, by a good twenty years, which put him about a decade ahead of Katarina herself. He was… not attractive. Something in him held that small note of sliminess that Juliette could not pinpoint. Still, they had exchanged only a sentence or two after his performance, and while she did not like him as a man, as adancer he had been in a class of his own. Gabriel was amazing. Foltin was better.

Moreover, last night when Francesca’s outburst had inadvertently outed both of them, Katarina had seemed… not shocked, exactly, but a shadow did pass in those cold blue depths and Juliette did not think it had been an approval.

And why was she thinking about Katarina and homosexuality to begin with? Juliette rolled her eyes at herself and marched forward, lengthening her stride.

An efficient maneuver with most people, it failed to reach its intended results, as Katarina matched her step in the wide corridors of the Palais Garnier, the faint orange blossom scent slipping under the ever-present and ever-familiar smells of rosin and sweat mixed with industrial cleaner. Somewhere close by, piano notes mingled with the rhythmic movements of a warm-up, the perfect backdrop for this stroll through the building.

Everything was safe and familiar and very much hers. Except for the orange blossom, and the occasional sensation of warmth whenever Juliette took a step that brought her just a few inches closer to her companion.

Her skin tingled on her left side, and she was reasonably certain her palms were perspiring. She was behaving like a fool. Another shake of her head, this time assuredly at herself, and Juliette felt she could speak without giving away whatever strangeness possessed her.

“Gabriel is the best of men.”

Katarina did not even attempt to hide her exaggerated eye roll. “Men have their uses.”

Juliette bristled, all sense of warmth and familiarity gone, the orange almost cloying now. Still, even as she was about to open her mouth, she admitted the day had not yet come when Juliette Lucian-Sorel would be the one staunchly defending themale cause. Katarina could have this round. Juliette waved her hand to indicate as much.

She got a purse of the full lips as a reply to her wave after what seemed an eternity. Or for the length of the entire second floor. By the time they took the turn toward the stairs leading up to the administrative offices, Juliette surmised that was all she was going to get.

A gaggle of ballet school students passed them by, most of them nodding or saying good morning to her. Juliette did her best to reply and call out a few names. The girls preened at being noticed and giggled as they skipped on their way, undoubtedly to join the corps de ballet for one of the bigger productions. The season was starting, and rehearsals were in full swing.

A perfectly raised eyebrow was all she got for her interaction with the juniors, and while she did not mind defending Gabriel—he was occasionally a scoundrel—Katarina’s reaction to the kids rankled.

“I teach evening classes, usually specialized lessons for the girls who want more instruction to catch up to the rest of the pack. I work with dancers who require correction of poses and movements that injure them.”

The words spilled out before she even realized she had been explaining herself. Katarina’s eyes widened a fraction at the last sentence. The silence that followed stretched and their footsteps echoed in the now-empty hallway.

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