He felt it to a degree he had not with Clara, its ferocity was acute. Daniel sighed, ascertaining the shift in his feelings with reluctance.
Calia looked up at the stars and let them send her to sleep as they did each night. No matter where she took respite they lulled her into a serene state. She threw her forearm over the top of her eyes as she slid into deepest oblivion. For once, she had felt a measure of safety not normally found in the wilderness, her male brethren in a circle of protection around her. They need not know that they comforted her this night with their presence. It was enough that she knew.
Calia slept.
Edwin came and stood over his sister, so delicate while sleeping. Fearsome in battle. He smiled. It was a very good day when he could find a precious female of the select. And a sibling? He could hardly abide his parents not knowing. Their joy would be legend, he was most glad of the thought of her return to the Clan of Massachusetts. He walked away, his eyes seeking Clara. He found her. Sitting next to the accursed Matthew.
He smiled to himself. The fight for her hand was not at an end.
Not yet.
Daniel waited until all were settled. He removed his bedroll and brought it with him. He located Calia by scent alone. She had allowed the cover of her thin blanket to unwind, her body exposed to the cold. A riot of gooseflesh covered her body.
Daniel glimpsed the pale flesh of her legs.
Covered with scars, a perfect spot not in evidence. Someone had laid these wounds on her when she was quite young. His eyes burned with tears he would not shed. That someone would do this to a female... and that of the select? Daniel's mind raged inside his head. If ever he was fortunate enough to have one such as that under his blade, there wouldn't be any hesitation. Murder of the first order.
Calia whimpered in her sleep, her fear while not conscious piercing Daniel. He sat down on his haunches beside her, his massive body shielding her from the unseen harm.
She thrashed about begging through the noises she made to be released from the ghost of some abhorrent memory. He reached out a hand over her head. It hovered uncertainly. But when an especially pathetic moan issued from her mouth he placed it on her forehead and she quieted.
Calia sighed and began to sleep peacefully again.
Daniel stayed there for an hour or more, watching the lioness sleep like a lamb.
Finally, when his arm was numb he covered her with his bedroll to her nose, pushing a stray golden hair from her temple, her deep golden eyelashes like shimmering lace against her cheek. He smiled and backed away.
No one saw him, Daniel thought.
But one pair of eyes did.
The unhappy gaze followed him the entire distance to his sleeping area.
The owner of that gaze did not sleep for some time.
*
Calia awoke, startled from sleep by the dirt being thrown on the fire. She was the only one still in a bedroll.
She felt her face flush with heat, laying a blood-red wash on her skin. Calia had slept overlong like a lazy wretch!
She jumped up but the extra bedding she was unaccustomed to wrapped her legs and she fell in a clumsy heap. Argh! Calia fumed, heaving the bedding away. No wonder she was completely warm, someone had covered her with additional blankets.
Not that she would admit the reason she typically rose so early in the morn was due to chill, not preference.
A man approached her. The half-breed Band... Daniel, she remembered. She backed away uncertainly, feeling exposed.
Vulnerable.
Daniel walked toward Calia, struck by her beauty. Her hair was wild all about her, her skin a deep pink, gold eyes like a cat's blazed out of a face still soft with the vestiges of sleep. She looked like she had slept hard, been warm.
It made his heart lighter.
Then she scowled at him and he was on guard again.
“Are you the one responsible for the bedroll?” she asked.
Daniel thought quickly, “I don't know what you mean? Maybe your newfound brother thought you'd need something extra to keep you warm.”
“I do not need anything. I have slept with the same bedroll for years on end.”
“And how have you fared?” Daniel asked, letting a little sarcasm creep into his voice.
The question caught Calia off guard, she was not used to repartee. Clever or otherwise and blanched at the obvious.
“Cat got your tongue?” Daniel asked, then shrugged. “You couldn't have been warm enough with just one blanket.”
Calia rolled her lip between her teeth. She did not know how to express what she felt. It had been... good to be warm.
Daniel saw her discomfort and was puzzled by it.
“I...” Calia began, clinging to the bedroll she had nearly heaved into the fire. “It is what I had,” she said, embarrassed that she was found wanting by a male that was trying to make her acquaintance.
Who had not leveled violence against her. She was unaccustomed to anyone caring about anything remotely related to her welfare.
Oh, Daniel thought, she is shy! He looked at her standing there, fuzzy from sleep, with her lonely bedroll and rucksack beside her and realized she had no home, no friend.
No ally. Save herself.
And he.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The bedding was folded up and put away, the Band expertly and efficiently tended to their assorted gear with a care that spoke of many years of practice.
Clara turned away, readying her steed as she had been taught. They had but two for the journey, hers to be shared between she and Evelyn. Clara let her eyes take in the fire, now cold, her gaze resting briefly on Evelyn. She then shifted her gaze to Maddoc, from where he stood, pretending to sharpen his dirk, while one eye was covertly trained on her.
Two warm hands came to rest on her shoulders with familiarity. Clara turned, a smile already lighting her face. It faded when she saw who had touched her.
Edwin said, “Ah... I do not like the sunshine of your face to slip away because of my touch.” His eyes held hers and he continued, “Nay, that is not what I hoped to elicit in the slightest.” Clara's eyes dropped at what lay between his innocuous words. They belied the intimacies that were inferred. She could feel heat rise to her face at Matthew's approach, guilt wrapping her as surely as a coat. What was wrong with her? Could she not put a stop to this? There was something ingrained so deeply within her nature she was helpless before it. The need to show deference, default to kindness. It would be her undoing.
Matthew had no such compunction. “Take your hands off Clara,” he said without preamble. His face was anger contained.
Instead, Edwin cupped his large hands around her shoulders and turned Clara to face Matthew, her body in front of his. “Aye, it was naught but an innocent greeting, Matthew. You need to be about other things beside seeing ghosts lurking about in every corner.”
Matthew approached the pair and Clara saw what he was about even if Edwin did not. “I know very well what is real and that which is false, brother,” he said with sarcasm dripping off that last word. “However, I see that nothing stays your hand or intentions when it comes to Clara. Neither kidnapping, rescue, war, dalliance. Nothing.” Matthew looked at Clara, his intense gaze boring into hers and held out his hand.
A moment of finality and decision came over her again and she was reminded of that moment inside the Kingdom of Kentucky when she had met his gaze very much like she did at this moment.
Clara stepped forward, feeling the hands that had bound her shoulders fall away and put her small hand in Matthew's massive one. Mindful of her fragility, he squeezed it once, wordlessly. It was his way, a man of few words. His gills flared as his temperament sought release, agitated by the other male of the Band who pressed his pursuit of her.
As Clara looked up into his face, her hand warming inside his grasp, he smiled, his heart in the blueness of his eyes.
Like the sea, vast and unending.
Edwin watched them go, a part of his
ego coming loose and floating as he did, unhinged. His gaze darkened. He was not wont to entertain darkness as Matthew was. It was not a natural part of his countenance.
But watching Clara with Matthew, her choice cinching to finality as he looked at the pair, made him rethink things.
She obviously found a decisive male of little humor, coupled with aggression more attractive than one of merry spirits and good humor.
Edwin deliberated for a time.
Decision made, he stalked after them, briefly glancing at his wayward sister, now found.
Calia took her eyes from Daniel's and saw her brother's expression change to one she understood instantly. Jealousy.
She followed his gaze and saw what had put it there. The fierce warrior and the queen.
Matthew and Clara.
Daniel watched her notice the pair, now a threesome of entanglement and grinned. Welcome to his troubles.
Calia opened her mouth to ask then closed it again. She was leaving; it was none of her concern. Daniel looked down at her, the hair still a silken riot around her, making its own light in the grayness of the day. He answered her unasked curiosity easily, admiring her hesitation against being inquisitive, “Clara was betrothed to a maniac from the Kingdom of Kentucky...”
And proceeded to fill in all the voids that Clara had not.
Calia was stunned into silence. Daniel indicated with a nod to follow the group. She did, her mind in turmoil at the events of the past year and a half.
She knew she had not the right. Calia rolled her full lip into her teeth, chewing it softly, thinking.
“Ask,” Daniel commanded softly, seeing her expression. They walked for a few more paces when she finally did, “Do you... do you wish to be with Clara even now?”
Calia did not know why it mattered. This half-breed was neither Band or fragment. She mustn’t ever forget the blood he had in his veins, that of the fragment. Yet, there was something about him which whispered to Calia's soul, a voice that she and she alone heard. A small part of her wished to remain. The possibility of that spark between them igniting... was a temptation. She shook her head. Nay, it would never work. Calia was a nomadic creature, ruled by no one but herself. The women she avenged by way of freedom were hers to release, to protect.
Daniel watched expressions roll over her face one by one. He deliberated in silence far more than what he'd ever done. He faced her and a patch of winter sunlight made a piece of light fall across one eye and she saw the flecks of green like flakes of emerald that sparkled within the depths. Calia felt her chest grow tight as he gave her his steady regard.
He began, knowing that she was accustomed to his speech, hiding nothing, qualifying nothing. “No, not anymore.” He continued to gaze at her, listening to the restless stomping of the horse's hoofbeats paces away from where they stood, the group waiting on their conversation. “She's grateful for my safeguarding during our mutual time with the fragment.” He saw her jaw clench with agitation and went on, “but to press my advantage when all she feels is gratitude but no...” he made his hand hover over his heart, “feelings of true love... well, it's a disservice to us both. Besides,” Daniel said, “I think Edwin and Matthew are plenty enough suitors for our Clara.”
Their gaze took in the threesome, Clara atop one steed, Evelyn on the other. Matthew had the reins of the horse in his capable hand, Edwin a stern presence at the opposite side. Yes indeed, Calia thought with alacrity, suitors aplenty.
They moved forward and she asked the only other question that struck her of importance, “Daniel?”
He turned, shielding his eyes from the sunlight that pierced the edges of the meadow where they stood, low on the horizon, in line with his sight. He looked at Calia for a heartbeat, the sun that streamed around her in silhouette, making her hair appear like it was on fire, the slender hourglass of her shape a perfect contrast of shadow and light.
“Yes?” he responded, clearing a throat suddenly gone dry.
“When did you come to this realization?” she asked, her golden stare never leaving his.
“Most recently,” he answered. Daniel turned without looking back, his expression giving away nothing that he didn't wish for her to see.
Calia watched his steady stride take him to the small group of Band, Rowenna, Clara and the young woman, Evelyn.
Calia thought on his response, troubled. He had left her with more questions than answers.
She followed them; her brother Edwin turning once to ascertain her position in the group.
Calia kept to the back. It was what she preferred. Everyone where she could locate their position, noises of approach from behind, discerned easily.
She clutched her weapons in their various holders, their familiar weight a comfort. Lifting her hands, she deftly braided hair that fought each link, tying the end off with a strip of hide.
Pride propelled her forward even as her heart held her still. Calia had never been ambivalent in her entire life, her future clear.
Now the waters of that grew murky. She did not like it.
She would leave soon, a fore-night, no more.
It was her fervent wish to stay. But Calia had never pinned her hopes on errant wishes.
They were naught to come true.
****
Tucker lowered the stolen binoculars as the group of the Band and the females headed out of the meadow. He turned, cuffing the nearest of the fragment cruelly. When he recovered his wits, he came groveling before him.
“You have scouted the sphere?” Tucker asked.
The dimwitted man, hardly more than a boy, nodded. Tucker waited. When the young man did not speak, Tucker raised his fist to brain him again when he sputtered, “They grow!” His hands raised in defense.
“Good,” Tucker said, satisfied.
Then he narrowed his eyes. “Show me by how much.”
The boy who was not yet a man, showed Tucker something that was greater than his fist. So, that was the speed of degradation of the spheres. He had only assaulted three, his numbers so greatly depleted it was the best he could manage.
His thoughts returned to the brazen female of the Band, and the queen. It made him salivate to think of how close they had been to being within his grasp.
A noise drew his attention and he turned, a cruel smile taking shape as he saw who approached. It made complete sense that this one would turn up like a tarnished coin.
Caesar saw the sneer that overtook Tucker's disfigured face and returned it. He could leer with the best of them, as Tucker would say. Caesar thought he had just about mastered their strange speech; slurred, irregular and rapid. It was more a mindset than anything else. Guttural. In some ways, it suited him.
He nodded at Tucker, “What say you?”
What have you discovered? Tucker translated instantly. His cunning not dulled by his perverse nature in the slightest.
Tucker grinned, his malformed mouth, cut gruesomely in some battle not long ago, raising in a snaggletooth leer on one side only. Caesar schooled his expression of disgust with an effort.
He had always been handsome and did not like to look upon those that were not.
Tucker responded, “They travel toward the queen's home sphere, I think.” He turned and gave Caesar his full attention, noticing anew how much he resembled the dead Prince Frederic. But possibly a mite cleverer.
“That is too obvious! Surely they would want to shake our watchfulness. Those savages, no?” Caesar queried.
“No. I don't think so. It is the weakness of the Band. Where two or more come together, they believe in their invincibility.” Tucker smiled again.
Interesting, Caesar thought with satisfaction. Mayhap all was not lost.
Tucker held up a blunt finger. “And the males. They'll lay down their weapons for a female. It would be twice that for a select. They are tremendously weak before the threat of the rare female with the blood of the Band running in her veins.”
Caesar palmed his chin thoughtfully, the edges
of a plan forming in his mind. He had always been a master at a clever scheme. As a point-of-fact, Frederic had mentioned it was by far his best aptitude. He turned to Tucker, his face showing him Caesar knew what he thought. “Let me think on this for a while longer. I will then formulate a plan.”
“Of what sort?” Tucker asked sharply. Maybe he didn't understand what they were dealing with here. The Band had blind spots, but as a whole, they were almost unstoppable. Taken with the females that accompanied them, more so.
“Diversion,” Caesar said.
Tucker and Caesar stared at each other for a long moment. Tucker finally nodding slowly. “Yes, it may work. Depending on what you plan... it may work very well.”
Caesar regarded him with derision. Of course it would work, the fool. It is what he did best. While he fashioned a scheme, he thought of how it could best encompass all of his goals. Not the least of which were the demise of Tucker, the fragment, the Band at his feet, the females a wedge of coercion firmly placed as a thorn in their tender sides along with the eventual annihilation of the spheres. Without the need of which, he could easily progress into his position of authority.
Authority over all.
Caesar smiled at Tucker and he stared back, an uneasiness unfurling like a sail without a mast.
There was something about the grin which bloomed on Caesar's face that gave Tucker pause. He always listened to that intuition. It was one of the only things that a drop or two of blood from the Band had given him.
That and his insatiable need for violence, regardless the cost.
*
Bracus and Rowenna walked together, quietly talking amongst themselves. Bracus had taken stock of where every member of his small contingent was placed, having ordered them with care. He expressed his misgivings to Rowenna. As leader of her people, she would understand. “I do not feel relieved by the fragment's absence...”
savage 04 - the savage vengeance Page 13