Clara withheld a shudder.
King Otto gave a surreptitious glance behind him at the Band, who walked a horse length or so behind them. Clara noted that Matthew and Philip's hands lay very close to the dirks holstered at their hips.
Unease uncoiled in Clara. She did not like surprises. Especially from the monarchy. She must have stiffened slightly because when she glanced once again at Matthew, he was almost at her elbow, his face showing his unease.
A mirror of her own.
*
The Band stood at the entrances, their eyes everywhere at once. The guarded expressions they wore were typical. The king looked at them uneasily and said quietly, “must they lurk about as if harm hovers at the royal doorstep?”
Clara leaned in as he had and whispered back, “They have keen hearing, my king, but shan't be too perturbed by your commentary.”
King Otto jerked back in his royal throne, flustered. His quick eyes, like raisins in a doughy face, caught sight of the Band, their expressions, once guarded, were now amused.
“Oh my,” King Otto breathed out nervously, “they are quite astute.”
“You do not know how much,” Sarah muttered under her breath, covertly looking at Philip, whose eyes were already on her.
Sarah quickly looked away, bright pink rising in her cheeks like a ripe peach.
King Otto changed the subject and addressed Clara directly, “I am aware that my son was killed in your sphere. Further,” his gaze sharpened like a falcon that catches sight of the field mouse, “I do appreciate the condolence message that was dispatched forthwith.” The king flicked his eyes down to the heavy brass fork that he twirled above his plate, the oysters that Clara had brought vanished into his rotundness. His eyes met hers again. Clara's breath became thick in a throat now constrained as she felt a mild burn begin in reaction to her nervousness.
His gaze never leaving hers he commented, “I was not told of how my son happened to pass.” He sat back and steepled his fingers, waiting for her response. Clara could hear the muted sounds of people talking with one another, crystal and brass everywhere the eyes could see. But it was only the five of them at the table, an odd configuration. King Otto at its head, Sarah to her left and Clarence to her right. The king's advisor, Waldo, at his right. Clara was suffocating but as her pause had already been lengthy, she began awkwardly.
“I was... he presumed to attack me,” she stated.
King Otto gazed at her. It was not the answer he wished to hear, she knew. But Clara was not wont to fabricate.
Finally, he said, “He could be wicked, my Frederic.” He paused and looked at her significantly.
Wicked indeed.
“However, I had thought you might tame him with your charms. And...” he looked at her throat pointedly, “your obvious genetic diversity would have been... fortuitous for our sphere.”
The gossip between spheres was in good health, Clara thought. He knew that which made her unique.
He wanted a marriage of the spheres for more than just pearls and trade. He viewed such an arrangement as a way to breed the madness out of his kingdom. Too much by far for a single monarch to do.
Clara said, “It is with great sorrow that a match could not be accomplished between Frederic and I,” she lied smoothly. After all, what harm could it do if she did not react normally? Obviously, what fool would marry a man prone to abuse, then murder, his prospective spouse?
King Otto's smile became a grin and it caused Clara's heart to speed in her chest, her sense of foreboding deepening. “I do believe that you would have been quite well-matched. That is why I felt that you would be inclined to meet his cousin, Caesar.”
Clara's stomach fell as a man came out of a shadowed corner of the great gathering hall within the royal building and she felt her head grow light, his resemblance to Prince Frederic uncanny to such a degree he seemed to be a ghost of the former as he strode toward her.
The Band did then put their hands on the hilts of their weapons and Matthew strode to her side. “What is this?” he hissed, barring the newcomer's way.
“I am Caesar, next in line for the throne,” his manner was haughty, his tone discounted Matthew as insignificant. “I am so moved to meet your queen,” he continued dismissively.
“Nay, you will not move closer than you are,” Matthew grated out.
Caesar's eyes narrowed. “By what right do you place rules on whom I introduce myself to?”
Clara worked quickly to diffuse the volatility of the situation, Matthew's interruption had given her extra time to think. “He is my protector and currently courting me for my hand in a Wedded Joining. He has many rights, sir.”
“The chief of which is keeping her from harm's reach,” Matthew said, eyeing Caesar as one does with anything they encounter with distaste.
“That was not my desire. I do realize that my cousin's... behavior,” he looked from one to the other as the lanterns released their steam in the suddenly silent gathering room, “may have compromised our meeting. However,” he tapped the cane that was clutched in his hand, “I am not he.”
Matthew leaned forward. “I do ken to that.”
“Oh?” His brows raised in question. “Do tell.” He smiled at Matthew, the belittling look that rode his expression smug to the nth degree.
“Smell,” Matthew said shortly. He then looked at Clara before stalking off to resume his post. He turned and glared at Caesar who smiled and gave a short laugh.
He moved to Clara, his nearness making her heart seize in fear even as she reminded herself that he was not Prince Frederic. He scooped her limp hand up in his and turning it, he pressed his lips to the flesh revealed there.
Gloveless, unfortunately.
His eyes never left hers and it was as if he made the crudest of gestures within the constraints of civility.
She snatched her hand away, feeling very much in need of a bath.
King Otto walked up beside Caesar, who was very tall. Shorter than that of the Band, but not unduly so. Otto slapped his back and said, “See, my dear Clara, all the beauty without the madness.”
She begged to differ, she felt that he was very mad indeed. Caesar was adept at camouflaging but she saw what swam in his eyes.
It was very like what she had witnessed in the prince's.
Subterfuge.
CHAPTER FOUR
Clara pushed the curtain from the window, the rings allowing it to slide smoothly to one side. Because of its utter privacy, the curtain was not heavy as those in the Royal Manse, but like gauze. Very like her undergarments.
Clara paced in front of the window, her nightdress swirling about her legs. Suddenly she slowed, glancing Outside. The night was dark but the high moon revealed the wheaten grass of Outside, its tips speared the frozen earth like stranded mountainous peaks in the snow. Her chamber was not backlit, her silhouette invisible.
Clara's heart stuttered its rhythm inside her chest as she was greeted by the sight below her.
The moon was a beam of illumination on the group of fragment that stood at the ready. Their slings were held taut, vibrating with tension before their release. Clara saw Tucker easily, taller than the rest, and a form that she knew as well.
Jabez.
Even from this distance, with only the moon as her lamp, Clara knew who he was.
She turned and ran, heaving the wrought copper door aside and entered the hall, brought up short by Edwin and Clarence. He had put down his role as advisor the instant the gathering had run into the royal floor, negotiations stalling because of the direction they led.
“What say you?” Edwin asked, his hand sliding the dirk out of the leather sheath it lay in. His eyes moved to a point behind her.
“It is the fragment, they ready their weapons for salt discharge!” she said, breathless.
Clarence stared at Clara as she stood in her immodest nightdress and had to shake himself. He had yet to see so much female flesh in one fell swoop (even if Queen Clara's natural mother was a
wanton heathen).
Clara blushed and realized that her chief advisor and captain of her Royal Guard was seeing her essentially naked.
Clarence tore himself out of his reverie with difficulty, responding to the newest threat, his mind touching on the conversation that had ended badly between King Otto, his debauched relation Caesar, and their absurd advisor, Waldo. He followed Edwin into Clara's chamber, remembering the echoed words of the king... with a chime of finality.
*
Clarence helped Clara into her chair, sliding it in as she scooted forward, expertly herding her underskirts ahead of her legs in a maneuver that was well-practiced. Clara was a perfect queen, stately and gracious.
If it were not for the heathen blood that pulsed through her veins.
Clarence was forgiving in this as it appeared to be her only flaw, with the singular exception of declining the love that Charles offered. He gave a mental sigh at that. He knew that Charles was acting rashly. However, he did have Clara's best interest at heart.
King Otto broke his internal monologue with, “I see that you and Caesar are well met, Queen Clara.”
Clarence felt Clara still in her gilded chair. As he removed himself from behind her, he noticed that she wore the pearls that should have been true cream but held a pink sheen. Flawed, the former queen had said. He wondered if she had the pearls woven deeply about her tresses as a subtle postmortem insult. Clarence gave a small smile as he seated himself. Queen Ada had been unabashedly cruel.
Clara said, “Aye, we are well met.” Clarence watched as her eyes, so round and innocent asked, “Is this the surprise you would have for me? The acquaintance of Caesar?” She arched brows which were almost brown but because of her deep red hair were a burnished chestnut.
King Otto paused. Instead of answering he lifted his glass, filled with the grapes of his sphere and said, “I propose a toast!” He clinked the glass with the jewel of the large and ornate signet ring he wore. The crest of the Kingdom of Kentucky was emblazoned on its surface.
Clarence raised his glass, eerily similar to the stemware that he had seen the queen endeavor to use and almost dropped it when King Otto finished, “To an alliance of our kingdoms in the way of before!”
There was thunderous applause as Clara, Sarah and Clarence slowly lowered their goblets, the wine sloshed and coated the colored glass like blood that threatens to flood its boundaries....
Clarence came back from his memory of the mess of the evening when the salt invasion from the fragment fell against the wall.
Clara chased after the men and they watched as the fragment discharged their slingshots and the poisonous salt pellets pierced the cloud-like walls of the Kingdom of Kentucky.
Clara flinched as the first one landed.
It was pandemonium and Clara used this time, when every soul of the kingdom rushed about, to rectify her attire while everyone bustled about in a panic. She put on her simplest frock. Although, when she righted it in front of the looking glass, it was still by far too rich for her taste. She had not yet retired even though it was deep into the night and the pearls still adorned her hair. No matter, she had a kingdom to attend to even if it were not her own. She clasped the last button with the button hook and set it upon the vanity. She listened to people's voices as a dull roar all about her and looked up.
Caesar's eyes met hers in the mirror.
Clara was so stunned at first she did not utter a sound. Nor did she move.
It was one of the gravest errors she had committed in her life thus far.
One she would later regret.
He grabbed her from behind, clasping a rough hand over her mouth and wrapping one arm around the smallness of her waist.
She knew he was the stronger of the two and immediately understood there was no help forthwith.
Clara bit him, trying to meet her teeth and he groaned, keeping his agony quiet as he turned her in one motion and with a closed fist, swung at her, crashing it into her temple.
Clara staggered, her hand trembling behind her, slapping the deeply polished walnut of the vanity, the button hook sailing off its mirrored surface and skittering across the floor.
She fell to her knees as her vision tripled and he picked her up as she had seen Billy carry the potatoes from the garden.
Like a sack.
Clara thumped along his back, her arms slapping him as he walked.
When he began to jog, his breathing even and unhurried, Clara's weakened consciousness slipped away in a spiraling tunnel of blackness.
Caesar felt her weight shift from live to dead, slightly harder to carry but an easier burden in the end. His ridiculous uncle never understood true commerce. The spheres would fall, the fragment would reign, and he, Caesar, would have a place in its hierarchy.
He had already chosen his queen. It was the half-breed savage. She would be his key to his inevitable rule. With Queen Clara at his side, the fragment would be inclined to follow suit. Like a pack of feral dogs, they were keen on surviving and Caesar could direct the course of their travels.
He smiled, emerging from the hidden portal that the criminals of his sphere used like a misguided sewer trench.
As rodents would.
Most apt, Caesar thought, grinning broadly as the cold of Outside slapped his face.
*
Matthew frowned, the people of the wretched kingdom in a panic, weeping and wailing. They pointed at the sphere walls and wept harder.
Matthew did not suffer fools gladly. He looked upon the position of the moon and gauged the time to be near two hours past midnight. His gaze swung to Edwin and Clarence, arguing again. He sighed, thinking on Clara. The men had first watch at her door. They had argued with him about taking first watch, hinting that he was tense over the discussions of yet another possible match between Clara and another.
Matthew had felt his brain slip within the carriage of his skull and wished to bang it on something hard. However, before that could occur, a red haze fell over his vision and he had gone to the table after King Otto's pronouncement, his weapon naked in his hand.
The only thing that had stilled his aggression had been Clara, looking so small and vital, the trust for him brimming from her aqua eyes and he knew right then he must not breach it.
He stopped, sheathing his weapon, his chest heaving with exertion and intent. It beat in his head with the pulse of his heart.
Steady and fierce.
He watched as Clara stood.
She curtsied and said, “King Otto, you honor me with your gesture.”
He stood as well. “Then we are of one mind, Queen Clara, you and I.”
“I think not. I do believe you propose an alliance through matrimony with Caesar, cousin to Prince Frederic, second in line to the throne.”
“Your supposition is correct,” he answered, his beady eyes roaming her face for a preemptive emotion.
“I do not wish to disappoint, King Otto,” she inclined her head to include Caesar. “I will say I am most honored. But I have already promised my future betrothal to one of the clan. More specifically, to one of the Band. I cannot be promised to another.” Clara gripped the back of the gilded chair, a scared bird outside the bounds of her cage. She showed none of it, save for her knuckles, whitened under the strain of her emotion.
Matthew saw it and fought not to go to her.
She was the bravest woman he had ever known. A fragile exterior clothed the heart of a lioness. His body ached to be with her. And not just the physical, but to appreciate her intellect and the rarity of who she was.
There was much to Clara that he wished to savor.
King Otto's face shut down in a wash of rage, Caesar looking quite unsurprised by the declaration. Matthew saw that and was troubled by his neutral reaction. If he had been turned down by a woman such as she, he would not look so amused. It made his disquiet deepen and without realizing it, his thumb caressed the handle of his dirk, the huge agate cold comfort underneath his flesh.
T
hen Clara turned and captured his gaze. His breath caught in his throat because as she had uttered those last words she looked at him with the first real promise Matthew had ever seen from her.
Love.
Clara softly closed her lips after saying she was promised to a member of the Band. She then looked over her shoulder and caught the burning gaze of Matthew behind her. He had stood down, against his nature and let her use words to handle a most complicated situation.
Love filled her eyes and Clara showed him the emotion that she kept under such tight constraints. She let the rawness of what she felt for him fill her expressive eyes and Clara saw the moment when he connected with that intimate understanding.
Clara had just given her unspoken promise, her gaze heavy with the weight of it.
Edwin was beautiful to look upon with a ready smile and laugh.
Daniel was as she was, their flesh and blood in perfect alignment.
But what they lacked Matthew had. Matthew held.
Her heart.
It beat for one man, and one alone.
CHAPTER FIVE
Caesar watched the fragment come away from the trunks of the Great Forest Outside and smiled without humor. Tucker, their crafty leader, met with him.
They stood for a moment staring at each other and Tucker jerked his head to the forest border. “Get out of the moonlight, the Band have keen eyesight and will be out here to clunk our skulls together in a jiffy.”
Jiffy? Caesar wondered. The fragment and their absurd vocabulary. He forced his expression into a neutral one, feeling Tucker's death a comforting future plan which unfurled like a sail's mast in high wind. Yes, he would drown, his arrogance the weight that would sink him. He shifted the weight of Clara on his shoulder. Aye, it was true she was tiny, but laying upon him as a sack of bricks, even one such as she became cumbersome.
savage 04 - the savage vengeance Page 3