Joseph felt for the first time in his life there might be something besides purpose and duty. And he now had an inkling about what made Jack who he was. He had Lillian, the other half who made him whole.
Anna felt the feather light kiss that Joseph brushed against her forehead and steeled herself not to hurl her body on his to stop him from leaving her. Now that she had decided to trust him, the grief she felt at his departure crushed her. She prayed that he felt as she did.
Anna watched his broad back disappear on his horse. Stephen rode beside him.
Trepidation and fear swirled around her heart like clinging fingers of mist, a shroud she hoped not to wear forever.
CHAPTER 31
Queen Ada's gaze narrowed on the scarred mess of the sphere tunnel's wall. She was unconcerned about the ramifications of her actions. All that mattered was that she retrieve her imbecilic daughter and keep the Wedded Day firmly within sight.
She looked about her impatiently. Where was that ridiculous man? Ah! Coming toward her in a halting bumble was the Record Keeper's associate, Ernest. He was a fool, but Ada needed him. He held precious maps from the time Before Ash Covered the Earth.
He twisted and wrung his hands as he neared her. A fine sweat beaded his upper lip, his waistcoat soaked with nervous sweat. “My Queen.” He dipped his head and bowed twice.
Insufferable fool.
She placed her hands on her hips. Guards swarmed around her like pesky, but necessary, bees.
“I have the records you need, the maps.” He held up long scrolls of paper bound together with different colored ribbons, each color signifying a different geographical area.
“Fine,” she said the word curtly and saw him cringe. Ada looked around for a moment then snapped her fingers, her string of pearls hitting her hip as she whirled around to face the nearest guard, Henry.
“My Queen.” Henry dropped to his knee before her.
She rolled her eyes. “Stand.”
He stood, his eyes assessing her mood and finding it foul, as usual.
“You will be in charge of these documents.” She flung her hand in Ernest's direction.
“Yes, my Queen,” he said soberly. What he really knew, looking at Ernest, who nodded with a bob of his head, was he would pay with his life if they left his sight or he guided them wrong. Or if the Princess was not recovered.
He had a dim hope that something good would come of this. But like the other guards, he knew that without the Princess's involvement in the kingdom, they were utterly lost. The Queen wished to drink, and the Prince of Kentucky was a tyrant bent on reigning through fear, threats, and abuse. How he longed for the days under Kind Raymond. Henry hoped that they could recover the Princess and put her where she belonged. Selfishly, he knew that the Prince was the very worst match for her. From what he had heard from the guards who were on shift the prior eve, the prince was a danger to the Princess as well.
There was no easy solution.
The Queen observed Henry’s machinations, so clear over his countenance. She did not care for a guard who thought overly much. She preferred her guards simpler. Ada had been fortunate not to have Henry or other guards like him the night Clara had needed discipline.
“Leave us,” the Queen said, dismissing Ernest by turning away from him.
Ernest glanced nervously at her back then at Henry. Finally, he shuffled to Henry, giving the Queen a wide berth and handing the maps off to him. Henry nodded to Ernest as his departure kicked up dust from the floor of the tunnel.
Henry called over the guard with the salt solution then turned to the Queen. “The sphere's wall is but a vapor now, my Queen. May I restate my earlier opinion that a...”
She cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. “Your opinions have been duly noted, and I care not. Obviously, our need for protection from the Outside air has been greatly exaggerated. Mayhap the Guardians were not so benign after all.”
Henry sucked in his breath. She had overstepped. Such blasphemy was inexcusable.
She smiled slyly at him. “Fear not. The Guardians have not been a presence these one hundred forty years past. I do not quibble with things that are no longer real.”
Henry felt they were very real, considering the advancements that kept their sphere and the other nineteen running seamlessly. The spheres themselves were also a marvel. Could she not see the importance of it all? He loathed her for her purposeful ignorance.
“We will traverse this wall. We will follow the trail of my disobedient daughter and her cohort. Do you wish to contradict me in this, guard?” She stepped into his personal space, so close that their chests were almost touching.
He stood his ground, keeping his gaze respectful with an effort. She took the challenge of civility seriously.
“I thought not,” she said triumphantly.
He wished to strike her.
She smiled at him, and he knew some of what he felt must have leaked out of his pores. He could not contain it all. His allegiance to the kingdom lay firmly with the dead monarch, not the living one. And in the future, it would most certainly be with Princess Clara. That was his fervent wish.
The guard Henry had called stood before him, and he nodded. The Queen watched from his side as a large glass canister was emptied of its contents in one smooth movement and flick of the wrist.
It splattered across the surface of the tunnel wall, now thrice compromised, a thing of terrible beauty damaged forever. It no longer hissed but began to evaporate at a maddening pace. The once solid iridescence dissolved. The wind and smell of a million different things in a nature Henry had never experienced assaulted his senses.
It was overwhelming.
He looked over at the Queen and saw that she was similarly stunned. The other guards shifted nervously. Finally, after a few long minutes, the Queen's royal guard led their stout horses through the portal. Sunlight streamed down upon them.
The heat from the orb lit upon their skin with a vibrant warmth that instantly cheered Henry. His very soul awoken as though from slumber. He thought, regardless of circumstance, that he would like the experience. Very much. The smells of the Outside were like tasting food with his nose. Impossibly rich.
Henry surveyed his surroundings, looking for signs of other humans and found many. His frown deepened. The meadow grass had many imprints of varying size, depth, and type.
He knew the footprints of the savages by sheer size. The leathers they wore were distinctive as well. An odd configuration possibly meant for traction graced the soil in the soft earth. Henry was internally relieved that no rain had fallen since Clara was taken. That would have ruined the trail. He placed his shoe next to indentations of the savagesʼ prints and saw theirs were at least thirty percent longer and half that more wide.
He looked up at Queen Ada from his crouch and saw that she understood his advice for the entire guard had not been unfounded.
They looked at each other for a swollen moment. Henry stood, glancing at the guards on their mounts. He gave the signal with his finger that they needed to spread out, twirling it once, twice. One guard stayed behind. The Queen rode behind his horse in an odd contraption. But it saved her sensibilities, and her wine was within reach.
She spoke, lifting her flask to gesture at him. “What say you? How much longer?”
Henry held a neutral expression as she took a very un-royal like pull from the flask. “I do not know. However, they would have had to seek shelter somewhere nearby. They sought a place with cover, water... seclusion.” He shrugged. “Perhaps, it will take hours to reach such a place.”
Henry unrolled one of the maps, studying at it intently. One such water source could be clearly seen. Perhaps it was the source of the Great Lake where the pearls were harvested. He shoved that thought away for future reflection.
Ada narrowed her eyes at him, glaring. He understood that she wished to find Clara, but he could not instantly transport them to the proper location. He was as new to this terrain as she.
“Let us make haste,” she insisted.
Henry nodded. Finally, she would be silent and let them begin the journey.
He walked over to his guards, and they all discussed the different routes. They decided to camp adjacent to the water source, which looked to be some kind of stream or small river, possibly feeding into the Ohio.
He jogged back to the Queen and conveyed the plan.
“Fine,” she said tersely, taking another pull from her wine flask. “Fill this, Henry. I become thirsty.”
He turned, sighing quietly to himself. Ghastly royal.
Henry poured the wine from the larger flask into the smaller then added some spirits. He would get the Queen drunk enough so that she passed out. That would be merciful to the guard, he thought, adding a bit more.
He handed over the flask, and she tore it out of his grip without acknowledgment.
She reclined in her odd contraption, equal parts leather and wood. The cage-like creation of hammered copper with brass fittings held her in a half egg metal cocoon piled with cushions in the interior. Steam hissed to provide light when it was needed, hanging off a brass hook which shimmered like gold in the sunlight.
The steam canister would not last for more than a fore-night but Henry was grateful for the light it would provide for their first night Outside.
The horses began to climb the hill toward the Great Forest, and the Queen's lantern caught the light and refracted it in a million diamonds as they moved deeper into the unknown.
****
Prince Frederic and his guard looked through convex lenses attached to a heavy contraption that fit snug on the head. A sight magnifier that swiveled between an upright position above the forehead and that covered the eyes. In the locked position, it allowed distance viewing. In the upright position, their vision was their own.
The Prince had a perfect view of the Queen and her guard entering the woods.
Exactly what he planned.
He flipped up the lenses, pleased to see the momentary reflection of himself. He was quite handsome.
He turned to Jabez, the First Royal Guard. “We advance one hour hence. I wish to ambush them after they have bedded down here.” He pointed to his own map, and his lenses flipped down as his head bent forward. He slapped them impatiently back in place until he heard them click into the fixed position.
Jabez looked at where the Prince was pointing and noted it was adjacent to a creek or stream. He straightened, nodding. This whole quest made him uneasy. He was certain that King Otto was also nervous. If the Queen survived, the royal spheres would be at war, and the Kingdom of Kentucky did not desire that. Better to place blame on the savages and then capture both kingdoms. He was not certain that this was the best way.
Jabez glanced around him. He did not like the Outside with its strange smells and noises, and it was disturbingly open. He also did not like the obsessive behavior his prince displayed toward Princess Clara. It was not the first time he had thought the prince mad and no small amount either. His sphere did not see a great deal of royal out breeding and most likely the prince had suffered genetically because of it. Yes, there was more to the alliance of Princess Clara and Prince Frederic, more than Queen Ada and Princess Clara ever realized.
Like not having insane royals.
He rolled up the map and retied it with its braided leather ribbon, watching his Prince as he strode about self-importantly barking orders. The guards’ horses shifted their hooves nervously in the soft dirt. They had never been outside the sphere either, and their senses were overwhelmed.
Jabez had counted the Queen's guard at ten. Why their monarch insisted upon going, he did not know. A Queen needed to stay in the sphere. With her daughter likely captured by the savages, she could not have been thinking clearly. Or her advisers were daft. Perhaps she hadn’t listened to her advisers. She struck Jabez as stubborn and cruel.
Jabez and the guard were mounted and ready. They kept a discreet distance behind the Queen's guard.
They were confident in their plan of attack and eventual acquisition of Princess Clara.
CHAPTER 32
Clara woke gradually to rhythmic movement—a swaying sensation. She opened her eyes and saw the underside of a very masculine jaw.
Reality and memories rushed upon her in a confusing slush. Matthew had taken her from the clan, from her new women friends. She was a ship without oars being steered by a male without regard for her welfare.
Her future prospects were bleak.
Matthew became aware of the female's change in breathing and knew when she woke. He slowed his pace to something less jarring.
He stopped underneath a deep canopy of trees, moss springy underneath his leathers. He looked around and noticed a dry area where the moss seemed less green and took Clara there, gently lying her down.
Clara looked at him and moved backward on her hands and legs until she felt her back meet the bark of the nearest tree. She eyed him warily. She had never given him great regard. With the chaos of the past days, just getting proper food and rest had been foremost on her mind. Now she belatedly realized he should have had her full attention. She looked him over closely. He was as tall as Bracus but fiercer of expression. What she had thought of as anger when he had gazed at her while she was safely encapsulated in the sphere, she now understood to be some kind of intense indifference.
As if he willed himself not to care.
He spoke. “Do not try to run.”
She shrugged. “And where, dear sir, would I go? Where would I go and you not catch me and assault me further?”
He took a step nearer to her, and she instantly regretted her flippant comment. He was huge in the way of the other savages and could easily harm her —slowly, if he so chose.
He saw her eyes widen in fear and hesitated. Matthew was still unsure what to do with her. His plan had been so full, so sure. And now? All he could see were those swimming aquamarine eyes. He felt her heat when she touched his bare skin. He hated her power over him. Mayhap it was not a conscious thing on her part. After all, if she were select, it would not be something she could help.
She saw him hesitate and arched her brow.
“I do not wish to harm you.”
Clara crossed her arms underneath her breasts and let her face fill with disbelief. Oh yes, he did not wish to harm her after the whole slam-into-the-tree episode and her fainting, yet again. And the vomiting everywhere. Yes, that was it. Her welfare was clearly important to him.
She felt battered, body and soul.
Matthew raked a hand through his hair, ripped a hairband from his knapsack, and tied it back.
She would be difficult, he thought. Soon, he would have the entire Band hunting them, and he would have to think of an explanation as to why he had taken her.
More and more, he could not think of one.
Clara stood, stretching the tightness of her body. Small popping sounds emitted from her back as the tension was released. She moved her neck in a small circle, the kinks slowly easing. She would kill for something to wash her mouth out with. Tentatively, she reached for the flask in the knapsack at her feet. Sniffing it and smelling nothing, she took a pull of water, discreetly spitting it out behind her. Then she drank her fill, all the while feeling his eyes on her. She looked back at him as neutrally as possible. She wanted no more shows of force. Possibly, if she were cooperative, he would not be rough with her again.
Matthew saw her moving to relieve the pressure of travel, and he wished to rub her neck and back. He wished to touch a female, this female. He clenched his fists. He would not touch her. It was too much of a betrayal of Margaret. No other female could be as pure and vital as she had been. Yet his eyes strayed back to Clara's form again and again, watching her drink, watching her move.
Clara watched him watching her, his expressions ranging from indifferent to pensive to resolved. She wished very much to find out about this strange man. Why was he not following Bracus's commands? Was he not seco
nd-in-command?
“Why do you kidnap me? When your captain returns, he will be unhappy.” She stumbled over that word, thinking that it may be quite a bit more than that. “Surely there will be conflict. It has been explained to me what my potential role is for our peoples. You put that at risk. Your actions put that at risk.”
She gazed directly at him, and that heat licked at him. She was beginning to undo him. He walked to her, and her eyes widened but she did not back away.
Clara was accustomed to intimidation. Queen Ada had been an adept teacher.
When he was but a foot away from her, he asked, “Who did this to your face?” He could not stop himself as he put a finger along the chartreuse bruise, which bloomed like an ugly flower, beginning at her cheekbone and fanning out toward her temple.
She felt the tender touch of his finger as it glided against her cheekbone in sharp contrast to his rough treatment of her earlier. Clara wondered if had he been afraid of her before. Scared not of her but of what she represented? What was he afraid of? The melding of their peoples, as preposterous as it sounded with the Queen's involvement, would be a positive thing. She was puzzled and felt her brows knit together.
What was he doing? He saw her frown at his caress and took his hand away, a dull warmth throbbing where he had laid that small touch upon her face.
Her face smoothed.
As his hand fell away she felt like she had lost a source of comfort. It was almost, with this stranger, as it had been with Charles. But how could that be? She and Charles had spent seasons together. Many events had bred their easy familiarity. She’d had nothing with this guard, except his disregard of the rules, his rough treatment of her, and his simmering anger. She felt it boil and ripple like a fish seen through dark water.
“I wish to know: why did you take me? Why not let our peoples mingle? You have a need for propagation, and we need to be free of a life confined to the sphere.” Clara thought briefly of the ocean her father had told her about and had a sharp ache of longing for that unknown sea.
The Death Series, Books 1-3 (Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance): Death Whispers, Death Speaks, and Death Inception Page 120