Peluche
Chapter six
Lorelle woke to the soft tink-tink of rain hitting metal.
She squinted, the gray dawn all too blinding even through the thick foliage, and let out a groan.
Water seeped into her dress from the cold, damp sand of the riverbank, and when she wiggled her toes to check whether she still had all her limbs, she could tell she had lost a shoe in the river.
Now came the hard part. Steeling her breath, she pulled her elbow back and propped herself up.
Air hissed through her teeth as pain shot through her skull, her world spinning in a whirl of grays and greens before she squeezed her eyes shut.
Her head pulsed with her rapid heartbeat, but at least it was still beating.
The breath hurt in her ragged lungs, but she could breathe.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered. Rain, cool from dripping palm leaves, fell on her face.
The tinkling sound came again, this time with a little growl and a slight tug of her right arm, and she glanced down to spy the little creature she had saved from the water.
Now its fur was mostly dry, fluffy and gray like snow-topped mountains, far too thick to be from the tropical heat of Monte Rico.
Its golden eyes flashed as it chomped down on Lorelle’s tin hand, gnawing at one of the fingers.
“No,” she scolded the puppy softly, pulling back her hand.
It weighed more than usual, and she removed it, opening it to empty the water that had filled its hollow interior.
The pinkie finger was bent a little, but with some finagling, she was able to bend it back into place, at least until she could get back to her tools and pull the spring back into its rightful position.
A spike of fear shot through her. Get back.
She needed to get back. She was the principal dancer, and if she didn’t make it, la directora wouldn’t hesitate to hand the position to someone else.
But someone had pushed her, hadn’t they?
Her shoulders prickled from where hands had shoved her over the wall.
She would need to investigate once she returned, but she could do nothing from the edge of a riverbank.
Gritting her teeth against the soreness of her muscles, she stood. Carefully stretching each limb, she breathed a sigh of relief when nothing felt broken or strained. Just sore. But that wasn’t uncommon for the twelve-hour days of practice.
She even spotted her sandal along the riverbank and slipped it on. Another unexpected blessing, but welcome, if she would have to walk back to the palace on foot.
The puppy resumed its playful growling. Lorelle found its form, almost white in the growing light of day, as the creature bounded over to the man laid out across the sandy riverbank.
Though he wore a cloak, it had shifted, revealing a medal of valor glinting on his chest. A soldier’s star.
It seemed the little dog noticed it at the same time, for it growled and went for the shiny silver star.
“No,” she said, reaching down for the pup. “Leave it alone.” She was stepping closer slowly, lest she wake the guard and startle him, when he groaned.
He swatted at the puppy with a hand. “Stop,” he said, voice gravelly. “Enough, basta.”
Taking her chance, Lorelle ducked closer and swiped up the puppy, holding it to her chest. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll make sure it leaves you alone.”
Cinnamon-brown eyes blinked up at her, alight with surprise. Then they squinted in pain when he tried to sit up and leaned against a jacaranda tree. The blue-purple flowers rained down on the slight movement of the wind, already warming up even though it was barely dawn.
“You’re the girl,” he said. “From the river.” He seemed to sigh in relief.
“Lorelle,” she said, offering a smile. “Thank you, for saving me.”
His eyes were fixed on her with curiosity, but he couldn’t know about her arm, could he? It had been too dark in the storm, and she’d quickly hidden her arm behind her back as soon as his gaze had turned on her.
“Never seen a ballerina before?” she quipped, hoping to break the tension.
“No!” He cleared his throat. “Not that.” He rapped his knuckles against his left knee, and it pinged hollow and metallic.
She blinked. At best, she’d expected him to say that she was different.
At worst, any number of insults that could be thrown her way.
But he didn’t look at her with pity or malice, but again with curiosity.
And, for the first time in many years, she didn’t feel so bereft of her gloves.
She dropped her arm to her side, her hand catching the light.
“Lost it two years ago,” he explained, voice tense. By his tone, it sounded as though he was loath to share the news, but felt compelled to.
She understood that herself all too keenly.
It was better to get it out there before the questions could start.
Before the judging eyes or the pitying looks or the awkward glances when they just didn’t know what to say to or do with her.
But he had a medal of valor. Could it be he had lost his leg in service to the kingdom?
There hadn’t been a war when Monte Rico had seceded, but maybe he had taken part in fighting against some greater scheme from the Empire.
She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t thank him for his service—at least, she didn’t think he would appreciate it—and she doubted he would take kindly to her sympathy, what with the frown that darkened his features.
“Where do you need to go from here?” he asked. Leveraging himself against the tree, he stood, at least six inches taller than Lorelle herself.
“The palace,” she said. “I have a performance next week for the princess’s birthday.” Anxiety shot through her. How far away was she from the palace?
He nodded, as if he was aware of the event. “We should head out now. It will be a few days of walking.” He started inspecting his weapons, a sword and . . . a revolver. A weapon given only to the most trusted of the king’s men. He clearly had other business—that she had derailed.
We? Lorelle cleared her throat. “I can get back myself,” she answered.
“I don’t need an escort—” She started to clarify how she could defend herself, and perhaps make it to the palace faster on her own, but stopped when the soldier’s gaze darkened.
“I mean, you don’t have to sacrifice more for me than you already have, sir. ”
“Antonio,” he said, then he offered a ghost of a smile. “Well, with what it took to save you,” he said, “I can’t have you falling back in the river now, can I?”
His almost grin invited a smile on her face, too. But she could see the shadows that lurked in his gaze, the haunted purple color beneath his eyes.
She nodded. “All right,” she said, “Peluche and I would be glad for the companionship.” She scooped the pup from the ground with her free hand, holding him to her side, where he squirmed.
He laughed, shooting her a curious look. “Peluche? Really?”
She stuck out her tongue. “He’s cute! Exactly like a kid’s toy. He’d still be cuddling with you if I hadn’t pulled him away. Oh!” She held up the puppy between them. “He’s missing a paw. Poor thing.”
“I wouldn’t call gnawing on buttons cuddling,” he said, grumbling. “And he may be more use as a stuffed animal than he’s worth.”
There was no smile in his voice now, just a frustration that grated. She gasped at his words. “Take it back!”
He started down the path at a slow pace. “Good thing you’re carrying him,” he said, not even looking over his shoulder. “If I did, don’t be surprised if I lose your Plushie somewhere along the way to town.”
She squeezed Peluche tighter.
She didn’t know how the small gray pup had wound up in the river. Maybe the current of water had swept by his home, and his mother hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she’d left him out intentionally, since the mother figured the pup wouldn’t be fit to live for much longer with his defect.
But Lorelle wouldn’t abandon him.