Page 30 of Reverence

Well, turned out he did know something. She could hear his steps retreating. Belatedly, she realized she had allowed him to have the last word.

Juliette let her shoulders slump for a minute. Another long breath did nothing to calm her racing heart. Neither did the next one. Once her cheeks had lost their pallor, she dried off her hands and considered her course of action. She had indeedstormed out like a dramatic fool, and so she’d face more than Gabriel’s genuine concern. There would be gossip.

She’d have to either go through the main studio, currently occupied by Gabriel and Katarina, which felt akin to a walk-of-shame level of humiliation, or take the side stairs to get back to the main rehearsal classroom and retrieve her belongings. Juliette shivered. She’d have to hurry, heated muscles or not. The drafts of Garnier eventually got to you, one way or another. In the distance, the bells of the Church of the Madeleine rang three times. Well, she was late for her massage therapy. Thierry wouldn’t scold her, but his time was extremely valuable, and Juliette was one of the few who prided herself on never wasting it.

Running for the second time today, she pushed open the door to the emergency stairs. Dusty, a little too shadowy, and decidedly smelly, the stairs were seldom used. Which was a relief, because Juliette scrunched her nose as something probably not human made a scratching and then clunking noise ahead of her. Rats? Then behind her, the door opened and Michel stepped through it, cigarette and lighter in hand.

The series of events that followed felt like watching a car crash occur in slow motion. Juliette cursed, her words mere exhalations of air as she tried to keep it down, then took a few steps away from Michel, who was still focused on his cigarette, and then she felt the world spin, no longer in slow motion. In fact, it was all at double speed now. Double force, too, as her footing went and the stairs she was just thinking were rather disgustingly filthy smashed into her face.

The last thing she remembered was looking back to see if Michel had noticed her and the slippery and cold feeling of stepping on ice in pointe shoes. As her face met the floor, she thought about the damn ice and what a coincidence it must be, Katarina icing her calf through their earlier rehearsal. Katarina,who occasionally came down these stairs to smoke… Or avoid going through the busy corridors and studios of Palais Garnier… Just like Juliette had.

11

OF FALLS & ACRID TASTE OF BETRAYAL

Her face hurt, her right leg was bent at an uncomfortable angle, and fucking Michel Duval was touching her.

That last thought compelled Juliette to attempt to sit up, shrinking away from him. Michel was talking a mile a minute, and it took Juliette a while to realize that he was cursing and that there was quite a crowd around them.

A long-fingered hand reached forward from Juliette’s side, and once the object it was holding came into focus, she recoiled. A small bag of ice. A little melted, yet ice nonetheless.

Katarina Vyatka was offering her own ice pack. Juliette blinked a few times, her brain working overtime to try and catch up to what was actually happening around her. Clearly unaccustomed to waiting, Katarina unceremoniously pressed the offering on Juliette’s bent knee.

When their eyes met, Juliette laughed nervously, not knowing how to respond or where to even begin with this entire situation, and then hissed as her lip split further and she tasted her own blood.

“I don’t have another one for your face. And you being you, I figured you’d want the knee taken care of before the cheek.”

Katarina’s matter-of-fact, detached tone betrayed nothing. She had been right, of course. Juliette cared very little if her whole head was smashed. But her knees were supposed to work. She had a busy season ahead. And speaking of the busy season…

“Would you help me up, please?”

Katarina smirked wryly at Michel, whose mouth was hanging open, and offered Juliette her arm. Mindful of not yanking too strongly on the slim limb, Juliette pulled herself up slowly. When she was finally on her feet, a harried Gabriel swept her up.

“Darlin’! Look what you did to my favorite face!”

Cooing and gently rocking her, Gabriel parted the crowd like he was Moses, and in the blink of an eye they were out of the dusty staircase and in the just-as-crowded hallway of the second floor. It seemed the entire company was there, ogling Juliette and whispering theatrically about how some people needed to be held accountable for this.

A resounding clap of Francesca’s hands brought an end to it, however, and as Gabriel took the turn leading to the physiotherapists’ office, her booming voice was the only one Juliette could hear.

“You are not being paid to gossip, no matter how juicy this particular event is. Now, off you go! There’s a dress rehearsal in two days and a performance in four, so I better not see any of you wandering the hallways.”

Waving her cane vigorously, Francesca followed Gabriel, and a few seconds later, the two of them were crowding the placid Thierry.

“Is she okay?”

“Fix her!”

Gabriel’s question and Francesca’s order did not seem to faze the physiotherapist, but his hands were less steady when he finally reached for Juliette’s cheekbone.

“Jett, I thought you had grown out of your toddlerhood. After all, isn’t that when we all learn to navigate stairs?”

He tried for humor, but Juliette could tell his heart wasn’t in it and his eyes were concerned.

“I had help.”

Gabriel stepped forward and laid a hand on her uninjured leg.

“I heard the rumors as I was running to you. They’re saying it was ice. And I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t her?—”

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