Page 73 of Reverence

Tears came then, laughter tuning into a cry on a dime, and in an instant Katarina was on her knees in front of her. Juliette bowled over, folding over her own chest, her own grief, and Katarina’s trembling hands, cold, always so cold, were on herneck, on her forehead, her lips at her ear, whispering something as utterly foolish as, “Please, my love, please…”

“How can I be your love? How can I be anything to you when you did this? All of this? Tell me? How many KGB files are there in Moscow with my name on them? How many of them have you studied to know your mark before defecting, Comrade Vyatka? I loved you, and you lied to me and you played me like a toy, and then exactly like a toy you broke me?—”

“And I ruined myself in the process!” Katarina finally found her voice, the hoarse whisper gone and the rusty shout escaping. So unexpected, so undignified, so unlike the Empress of Moscow Juliette knew. Their tear-filled eyes met, and Katarina looked away before continuing speaking, no longer bothering with how loud she sounded.

“I never lied to you. Yes, I defected to Paris because I knew Juliette Lucian-Sorel had been getting bad reviews for years and was vulnerable. And then I saw you… There wasn’t anything vulnerable about you. You were the best dancer I’d ever laid eyes on, you were the perfect ballerina, and I had no chance to ever upstage you. And I never wanted to.”

Juliette tugged her fingers out of the ice-cold ones gripping them like a vise.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Katarina’s hands, now empty, fell to her lap, and the feel of that skin on hers, the familiarity of it despite only knowing it for such a short time, infuriated Juliette all over again.

“You were the love of my life, Katarina. And then you were the ruin of it.”

Katarina glanced at the cane by the door, and Juliette sighed. She could throw many stones, many faults at Katarina’s feet, but this wasn’t one of them. Juliette pushed up, giving her all to not falter.

“No, you can flagellate yourself about a lot of things, but my career will not be on your conscience.” The lump in her throat was threatening to choke her, yet Juliette went on, determined to end this conversation that was draining the life out of her.

“My heart, my job in Paris, my trust, my ability to hold on to a normal relationship. Yes, for all of those, you are solely responsible, Your Majesty. But that cane? The fact that I never danced again?” Juliette threw her head back and laughed. The hysteria was not far off.

“You didn’t break my tibia, nor tore my knee, or my hamstring. And I guess I could’ve come back from one of those, maybe two, but not even the great Lucian-Sorel could overcome her tendons simply shredding underneath her no matter how many surgeries followed. And trust me, I had so many my knee has more scar tissue than skin these days.”

She was breathing far too fast, the vein in her neck fluttering so hard Juliette had to cover it with her fingers.

“Juliette—”

“No! Why did you come? To seek forgiveness? To buy an indulgence? Well, it’s free. I absolve you. You didn’t take ballet from me.” The sound of her exhalation echoed in the room and Katarina’s tears finally fell, off the butterfly lashes and down the gaunt cheeks.

Juliette was almost certain Katarina had no idea she was crying, so focused those eyes were on her. Still, Juliette wasn’t finished. And wasn’t it strange that in a day that started with her having no words, she couldn’t stop spewing them now when she perhaps should leave herself some of that armor of silence?

Katarina looked away, and Juliette realized that she couldn’t have that. Not while she had her here. In this space. In this sanctuary she had created for herself. In this nest Juliette had woven out of broken bones and broken promises.

She took a step, and they were inches apart. That feeling, Katarina’s body heat, was like a punch of whiskey to an empty stomach—painful, sly, teasing, pleasurable, and ultimately deadly. Orange blossoms enveloped her. The scent of home, the scent of her. Her own tears threatened.

Juliette lifted her hand and touched Katarina’s chin, raising it till they were eye to eye again. Katarina’s trademark gesture, Katarina’s trademark gaze. The years between them were erased and only pain remained. Hers. Katarina’s. And all the guilt. Well, some of it Juliette could heal.

“I ruined ballet for myself, Katarina. And now I get to create it and watch it but never dance it. I am at peace with it. I hope you can be too.” Juliette allowed herself one more indulgence, one more forbidden pleasure. Her fingers traveled down Katarina’s neck, where the aorta greeted her with a fluttering very much in sync to her own, and she smiled. God, they had destroyed each other ten times over and yet they were still here, one breath away, one whimper away from burning each other’s world all over again.

Katarina’s face showed nothing, the fingers at her throat seeming to not even register as the right corner of her mouth lifted in a sarcastic smirk.

“Peace?” Her tone, hoarse, measured, a touch insane, scraped Juliette raw. “The biggest talent to have ever danced will never step on the floorboards of a stage. The love of my life will never know how much I regret the circumstances of everything that happened between us. And the world keeps turning. I keep performing. And you keep seeing nameless, faceless people who will never love you the way you are loved. Here.”

Katarina’s closed fist connected with her chest, thethumplike a detonation making Juliette’s ears ring.

“You have no right to speak of these things.” Her own voice nothing but a snapped string, Juliette panted through an impending panic attack.

“No, Juliette. I’ll have my say. I have been silent for seven years and I’d still be silent if that gorgeous fool hadn’t gone and broken everyone’s heart by getting hit by a fucking truck. He survived the virus and a goddamn drunk driver took him. And he had the gall to send me a sermon on forgiveness and how short life is. And when I didn’t answer him, he went and died on me, on you, on that man who will never be the same, because Flanagan was right. Yes, damn him, life is short. So here I am, Juliette. Scream, yell, curse, but listen to me. And forgive me.”

Juliette gritted her teeth.

How dare she!

“Get out, Katarina. Not everything is about you. Not his life, not mine. I have lived without you for seven years. And you were just fine without me as well. Prima Assoluta, Étoile, success after success, rave reviews, performance after performance, Paris at your feet. Did I tick all the boxes? What else have you ever wanted?”

“You! Flay me for understanding too late that all I ever wanted was you. And before you say again that I was just fine, have you tried watching everything you’ve ever dreamt of be snatched away from you because you yourself are too weak to fight for it? I was scared, damn you!”

Katarina’s cheeks were finally burning, and Juliette was mesmerized by the fire.

---