The Pearl Savage (15 page)

Finally, the gate was set wide
enough for him to slide through, the two guards bowing as he did.
Bracus went straight to the well which held the great cistern of
water the community drank from, a young girl at hand. She would soak
the cup in lye, a wretched but effective product, she wore gloves
made of duck skin so it would not burn her skin.

Bracus
ruffled her hair and she smiled. A wee thing, only ten and two years.
Bracus liked her, she was spirited but without friends. There were
many males her age but only one other female to share her time with.
That set Bracus’ teeth on edge. They needed the females of the
sphere, the
sphere-dwellers
must agree.

They must.

He drank deep and then still more,
his thirst a beast of its own. Finally, he handed the cup back to
Evelyn, who smiled at him.

Immediately
Bracus looked around him, taking in the state of the clan, everything
was as it should be, light trading of wares and most of the children
(
boys,
he corrected himself) learning to figure and read. Not that
there
was great need for that. So few books remained from the time the
Earth was Covered in Ash. No matter, it was good for the mind.

He
needed to fill his belly then find the rest of the Band
and
speak with President Bowen. He would need convincing, to be sure.

****

Bracus was tired to his core and
more so now that he had eaten an entire chicken with every ground
vegetation he could consume. He stepped out of the community dining
center, but instead of seeking much-needed respite, he sought the
Band.

They
were easy to spot and he was surprised that none had seen him first.
Philip stood slightly taller than the rest, maybe close to six foot
and eight inches, an absolute slab of meat of a man. His shoulder
muscles
looked like they had
been attached separately from his body, growing into his neck. He
caught sight of Bracus and raised a hand, half in greeting and half
in question.
Where have
you been?

He strode to Bracus and embraced him
in his mighty arms. “How fare you, brother?”

Bracus began with an utter lack of
finesse, “The Princess has been beaten,” shock poured over
Philip’s face, “and we will need to acquire her much sooner than we
had first thought. Three weeks is too long, and judging by the fist
that fell on her face, if we wait, she will not be alive to acquire.”

“Who?” Philip asked simply.

Bracus thought on this but
ultimately decided to mention it, “A young male entered her chamber
and she fought him.” He clenched his teeth, Philip’s expression
darkened, “And he saw you there…outside the sphere.”

Bracus nodded, it did not make
perfect sense to him either.

Philip palmed his chin. “What
happened when she fought him?”

“She fainted…”

“Good Lord.”

“And then he held her.”

“Against her will?”

“No, she was unconscious; he held
her most tenderly.”

“None of this makes sense. If he
were in league as a protector of this Princess, then why was he not
in attendance? And the better question, protecting her? And where is
her guard? If she is truly a Princess…” Philip looked at Bracus
for confirmation and he nodded. “Then she ought to have a guard.
That she does not, speaks of some internal problem within.”

Bracus nodded solemnly, he had
pondered the same.

Joseph appeared along with the other
Band members but Jack was absent.

“Where is Jack?” Bracus asked.

There was shuffling of feet and
downward looks.

Bracus growled out, “Where-is-Jack?”

It was Stephen that spoke up, “He
is with Lillian, she ails.”

Philips eyebrows drew together and
Bracus scowled. They did not need a sick female.

“It is not mortal… she is with
child,” Matthew said.

Wonderful news, why the anxiety?
Bracus wondered.

“We lose a Band member, while he
lounges and moons over his woman,” James said, arms crossed stiffly
over his chest.

Jacob broke out in a grin, clapping
James on the back. “You are not mated or you would not speak such.”

“
I
cannot speak for the rest of you, but if my female was with child, I
would not be out fighting, leaving her here, defenseless,” Stephen
said. And several of the other Band members nodded, agreeing. It was
well known mated Band members were fierce over their women. At least,
when they
could
be
mated. Further complicating things, it was postulated that The Evil
Ones made some sort of genetic predisposition that certain females
were more “appealing” than others. The rumored
select.
They
would someday get that opportunity to see who would be their mate.
Lord help them if there was a female that had that enigmatic gene of
the
select
that appealed to more than one male in the Band.

“When is the celebration?”
Philip asked.

“I do not know, but Jack seemed to
think that after she stopped heaving up the contents of her stomach,
she would be well enough for the Celebration of Conception,” Joseph
relayed dryly.

There was a good-natured chuckle all
around. Many females were terribly sick in the beginning.

Bracus nodded. This was good news
and now he would have to deliver the bad.

After he finished with his report to
the Band, they were all serious and quiet, deep in their own
ruminations.

The guard contained his expression
with an effort, he would see this female returned to her sphere, they
did not need the sphere-dwellers. Her supposed abuse made his stomach
turn, too close to memories which haunted him.

Bracus announced that a clandestine
meeting would be needed with the president. Horses would be used, he
needed to be fresh for tomorrow’s journey.

“Matthew, you accompany me,”
Bracus said.

“Of course,” he said in his
steady way.

Bracus turned away.

“My brother?”

“Yes?”

“Let me join you in this journey,”
Philip said.

Bracus shook his head. “You know
that I will need you.”

“We will use horseback again?”
Philip asked.

“
We
must. I wish not to be attacked with a female. Think of another clan
getting hold of the Princess, or the
fragment
.”

The
Band thought of this with a soft horror. The
fragment
used females as breeders. The women were beaten and mistreated. Many
tried to
escape.
The
fragment
would do anything to propagate. Of course, they had no Band. They
were fractured clan, refugees from clans who banded together,
kidnapping females wherever they could. That is why the females had
males accompany them when they ventured outside the wall of their
clan. Food needed to be gathered so the females went, but not alone.

Bracus turned to fetch the messenger
and Jacob put a hand on his forearm. “He has been summoned and
dispatched. He hails the president now.”

“Very good,” Bracus said,
looking at Matthew, who nodded back. Bracus and Matthew gathered
their weapons, saddling the horses. Bracus raced to his dwelling to
change from his sweat-laden clothes.

He changed into a fresh set of
tight-fitting breeches, perfect for riding. His rough cotton tunic,
snug against his lower chest, left his upper chest and arms bare to
the wind. Perfect for movement in fighting, riding and of course,
running.

CHAPTER 17

Clara received not one moment’s rest
and shadows lay as dark smudges beneath her eyes. She felt in the
marrow of her bones that they would be discovered. The Queen could
not let more than one day pass without inflicting some kind of absurd
discipline on Clara.

Under the pretense of trading with
the neighboring kingdom, Clara could take a small knapsack and the
appearance of normalcy would stay intact. Olive entered her chamber
at the same time that dawn illuminated, the tangerine glow laying its
light against Olive’s face. Clara must keep this secret from Olive
too. The Queen was not above torture if she could excuse it and if
Olive knew nothing, she could say nothing.

“Princess… what are you
packing?” Olive’s brows rose.

“Trading day,” Clara responded
neutrally.

Olive gave a puzzled look at the
knapsack. “Do you wish for me to ask Billy for tangerines?”

A blessed distraction for Olive, who
gazed on Clara with thinly veiled suspicion.

“Yes, that would be most helpful.”

Olive nodded and turned to go, but
remembered something at the last moment. “May I mention that if you
travel for trading, the Queen will expect a certain wardrobe… and
your crown.”

Drat. Clara was hoping to avoid
that. However, it may play to her advantage if she cooperated with
looking like a Princess. The Queen would be more lenient.

“I agree,” Clara said, which
caused Olive to stare. Clara sighed, it was not typical for her to
agree to anything that had to do with pleasing Ada.

Olive considered for a moment more
then she slipped out the door.

Clara had just closed the knapsack
with its supple leather ties when there was a rap on the door.

Excellent! She rushed to the door
throwing it open, a ready smile on her face, but it was Prince
Frederick who filled the doorway.

Clara blanched and stepped back as
he entered her room, pacing her progress almost to her bed. He lifted
a hand to his face to push his hair back and Clara flinched.

He laughed. “I will not beat you
at every turn. But I must say, you do bruise quite nicely,” he
said, reaching out to touch the bruise that lay over the swelling on
the arc of her cheekbone.

“Do not touch me,” Clara said in
a low voice.

“I will touch you when and how I
like.”

“You have not the right!” Clara
shouted into his face.

Prince Frederic leaned forward from
his considerable height. “I will have all kinds of rights soon
enough.”

“But not this day,” Clara said.

Frederic straightened with a sly
smile, moving away from her and pacing about the room, touching all
her things. Clara marked his progress with anxiety. She cared not
what he touched, her hope was to not look upon the trappings of her
royal life for some time.

He paused, whirling around and
firing a question at her, “I hear that you go to trade this day.”

“ ‘Tis true, but in the late
afternoon.”

He nodded, almost to himself. “Then
I will take my leave now, as I will not return until our Wedded
Joining.”

He approached her, taking her hands
in his, his sudden tenderness more disturbing than his beating her.
“I will not always be unkind to you. If you would but do as I say,
then this would be easier upon you.”

Clara snatched her hands away and
said, “I cannot.”

He stared at her for a full minute,
his eyes narrowing. “You will.”

There was a noise at the door and
they turned to see Charles framed by the doorway.

He looked intently at Clara, then
his gaze moved to Frederic, and his fists clenched and opened,
clenched and opened. “Clara, are you well?”

Clara nodded.

“She is very well, you do not need
to fret over her. Soon she will not need anyone fretting over her at
all,” he smirked. “I am not overly jealous, as my time of
solidarity with Clara is soon.” He looked at both of them with a
knowing smile and walked out.

Charles’ shoulders visibly relaxed
after the Prince was gone. Clara rushed forward putting herself in
the circle of his arms and he stroked her hair.

“I thought he was here to hurt you
again,” he said.

“No, just to threaten.”

“It matters not. We leave today
and he will not lay his hands upon you again.”

Clara was still grappling with the
feelings of her desertion. Her face was long and her spirit much
subdued.

Charles noticed her disquiet. “Do
not, Clara. We have moved so far beyond what we thought you would
have to endure. Now, because of his beastly manner, we know that it
is better you escape. You cannot, as Sarah said, rule anything if you
are dead.”

She nodded, biting her lip so she
would not cry her weakness to the world.

If she began, she would never stop.

****

Charles left again after checking on
her, the two of them going over the next four hours to the minutest
of details.

Clara
carefully dressed, taking care to put on royal attire, Princess
attire.
Because
of the lateness of the season she would have to wear something as
lightweight as possible. Olive had come and gone several times,
fetching only Clara’s favorite food items for the journey. Clara
decided on a teal dress, which barely grazed the instep of her heels.
It had an organdy overlay in a light sherbert orange which caused the
material to shimmer as the ocean with the blush of sunset upon it.

The corset secure and dress on,
Olive came to Clara with the small tiara encrusted with pearls in all
colors, diminutive Alexandrite gems encircled the pearls in their
elaborate gallery, winking in different colors as Clara moved.

Clara came to stand in front of her
looking glass, mesmerized by her small crown, which she had worn a
handful of times. It sat awkwardly on her head. Turning away from her
bruised reflection, she picked up her knapsack, preparing to visit
Ada before her departure. Always an ordeal, the extra burden of the
upcoming escape swirled in her mind like mud in a river.