The Savage Blood (Savage Series, Book 2)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “I have since returned in a most unconventional way from a distant clan of the sea.” Clara gestured to Rowenna who gave a regal nod, but a foot away from where Clara stood. “As many may have wondered about the purpose for my journey. Queen Ada,” and there were groans and mutterings of dissension in the crowd which Clara quieted with a raised hand, “Queen Ada revealed with her final breath that she was not my natural mother.”

  Total silence filled the Gathering Room. Clara went on in the middle of it, a wave unbroken on the shore.

  When she had finished speaking it was Charles who was the lone subject who raised his hand. She held her breath, expecting him to make a comment that would undermine her goals.

  She was not disappointed.

  “Queen Clara, you ask much from the people of the Kingdom of Ohio. We are to welcome the clan-dwellers and Band alike into our bosom. It is because of their involvement that the fragment could do as they did. Further,” he spoke quickly as Matthew made his way to him, “you yourself have admitted to not being of pure sphere-dweller ancestry. Savage blood runs in your veins. How are we to know that you advocate solely for us? That it is not their interests that you prostitute even now?”

  Much of what she felt must have shown on her face, her body numb with shock. No, he would not hit her with his fists, but his tongue lashed against her and she stood bleeding from the whipping.

  Clarence looked at Charles in horror. Sarah began walking toward him as Matthew latched onto his arms and she saw Charles death in his eyes.

  A boy that she had loved and cherished, a man that now hated who she had become.

  Sarah stood in front of him, shaking with rage. “Do not talk to her like that! She cannot help all that has transpired. Can you think past the end of your nose long enough to see what she must sacrifice for you? For us all?” She whipped her hand about, taking in the subjects. Clarence looked at her with a measure of wariness. Sarah's temper was a keen thing.

  Charles looked down at her smugly. “And you benefit as well, a tart like you. Already you have one of the Band who chases you about like you are a bitch in heat.”

  The slap rang out in the Gathering Room, the sharpness swallowed immediately by the soft ceiling of the sphere, hissing steam the only noise which replaced it.

  Good Guardian. Clara ran to Sarah as Charles wrapped his hand in her wheat colored hair and jerked her to him. But suddenly Philip was there with his blade laid against Charles' throat and Matthew released Charles and intercepted Clara.

  “No! I have listened to you about him for these months past. He is not who he once was. He has let his heart grow black with hate.”

  He held her as Clara screamed, “Do not kill him Philip!”

  Philip's eyes did not leave Charles'. “Release her or die. Queen or no, I will not allow you to harm this female.”

  Charles thought about it, the silk of her hair wrapped in his fist. His gaze rose to Clara's and he read the fear, disgust and anger there. He came back to himself, suddenly realizing that he had raised his hand in anger at a female and was ashamed. He shifted his eyes to Sarah's and hers were wide with fear.

  Of him.

  He let her go and the blade came away from his throat. He looked around him for the support he knew his comments would garner.

  The people backed away from him, suspicion and bewilderment on their faces. He was disgusted with them all. Could they not see that Clara was under the spell of the Band? That she no longer acted like herself. Who was this defiant creature who listened to him no longer? Her supposed best friend since childhood. Her defender?

  Clarence took his elbow and he wrenched it away. “Fine,” he looked around. “Believe her ideals. Nothing has been proven. Do not come to me when things begin to unravel and suddenly she is not who rules here but another. And it may not be someone of our sphere. Most definitely, it will not,” he finished, striding off.

  Matthew gave a nod to Maddoc, who followed Charles as he pushed and surged through the crowd.

  Matthew said nothing, but he did a splendid job of holding Clara up.

  *

  Clara had slipped out of her chamber between the changing of the guard at her door and followed the smells of bread baking. The moon was setting Outside.

  She pushed the solid wood door of the kitchen open, the convex glass portal at the top reminding her of Jack and Lillian's dwelling. It swung closed behind her and she met Billy's eyes. Flour dotted his face and a rolling pin was clutched in one hand.

  He said nothing of the late hour, or the fact she was in her immodest nightdress. He set the roller on the floured wood bread table and opened his arms, she ran to him and buried her face in his broad chest.

  “I am a wretched queen,” Clara sobbed.

  He patted her back and flour got over everything, her hair, her nightdress and she sighed with comfort. This is where she had gone when there was nowhere to hide, when Ada had been in the throes of one of her rages, Clara would hide in the kitchen.

  Billy had saved her from additional abuse. As he saved her now.

  “There, there girl. It will be alright,” he said, stroking her hair.

  “What Charles said is true. I may not be able to bring what I envision to fruition! I may be making the wrong decision...”

  “Clara,” Billy smiled at her and put her on the nearest stool, “have some bread.”

  She shook her head. “I am not hungry.”

  “A hungry queen is something we do not need,” he said, pushing the plate of steaming bread, lathered in butter, toward her. He gave her a disapproving look. “You have come back from your journey a starved waif. Did no one see to get you decent food?”

  She shook her head, tearing off a hunk of bread and shoving it indelicately in her mouth. He grunted in satisfaction, rolling out the next loaf, kneading then covering it with a cotton cloth in a loose weave.

  “They did feed me. You know that I am not one to eat when under duress.”

  “That fool Charles did not help matters, methinks.”

  Clara's face grew red.

  “Do not take that man's sentiments to heart, Queen Clara.” He lifted up his knife, pointing at her and the bread lodged in her throat. “He has had a hankering for you many years now. That he cannot have ya, is not something you need to fret over. I would not have thought it,” he muttered.

  Clara took a sip of warm milk and cocked an eyebrow, stuffing another hunk inside her mouth. The delicious flakiness of the bread melted inside her mouth and a nostalgia for days past came over her. She smiled around the emotion, swallowing thickly, the tears at bay for the moment.

  “Thought what?” Clara asked, taking another sip. The warmth of the milk making its way through her, calming her.

  “That he would use your sense of duty against you for his own end.”

  Clara looked up at him startled.

  He nodded at her surprise. “You never saw what we saw. Was he there to comfort you when Queen Ada took after you? Aye. But what of it? Any dolt could have held your hand. He had his eye on the crown. You were a sweet thing he thought he could control.”

  Clara thought about Charles and all they had been together.

  “You are different, Clara. You are more what you were intended to be. You are King Raymond's daughter,” he made a fist and placed it above his heart for a moment, honoring his memory. “Apparently, you have more than sphere-dweller running in those veins of yours. You come from something that is fierce and wild. To deny that is to rule without truth. Use what you were given. Make decisions based on how you feel. Your compass leads true Clara. It always has.”

  Clara looked down at the last piece of bread that sat in her hands, twisting it about.

  With deliberation, she put it in her mouth and chewed, her gaze locking with Billy's.

  He smiled. “You will do fine, girl.”

  “Thank you, Billy.”

  He put the roller down again, the bread beginning to rise under its shroud. Covering her hands with hi
s big ones he said what she needed to hear.

  What was true.

  “We believe in you. You were always our queen.” His fist stood above his heart again.

  Clara swallowed past the lump in her throat.

  CHAPTER 35

  A routine of sorts had developed in the sphere. Bracus had made an effort to divide the Band's time between the sphere and the clan. Rowenna used the dove of their clan to send a message to hers that she would be wintering at the sphere then travel back when spring's warmth had taken the last of the inclement weather with it.

  A ceremony of loss and celebration of the lives of the fallen males of Clara's sphere was conducted and it offered a sense of finality to the kingdom. The people of the sphere moved forward. Sarah began teaching again, resisting the charms of Clarence and Philip. There were many available females for Philip that had made their interest known but he had eyes only for Sarah. Clara thought her behavior most wicked.

  Clara and Sarah walked the sphere-tunnel together as they did each day, the sentry guard accustomed to their daily exercise. Clara had never before felt restless in her sphere. But after the journey to the sea, she was never still.

  She walked with her hands clasped behind her, head dipped, her hair partially swept to the crown of her head.

  “It is not that I do not like Philip,” Sarah explained and a small smile turned the corners of Clara's mouth up. Sarah laughed and struck Clara lightly on her arm.

  Clara laughed from her belly. “Yes, I can see that liking him is not the problem. Not at all!”

  Sarah's face reddened. Her fair hair severely pulled back into a teacher's bun. No matter how she fought it some of the blonde hairs escaped, floating about her face, framing the blush that covered her cheekbones.

  “He is Band. I do not know that I wish to be wed with Band. A clan-dweller may be equitable,” she shrugged.

  Clara's smile faded. Technically, she herself was Band.

  Sarah realized her words too late. She stopped and turned Clara, hands on her arms. “I am sorry. I do not mean offense to you. They are just too...” her eyes wandered to Outside, “wild. Unfinished, unpredictable.”

  Clara continued walking and Sarah followed. “We must take chances, Sarah. We cannot let fear and ignorance rule our hearts. What is your greatest fear?”

  Sarah's face scrunched, her nose bunching in an appealing way. “Being held amongst the fragment.” She shivered with the memory.

  “Are we anything like Rowenna?” Clara asked suddenly.

  A vision of Rowenna rose in the memory of Sarah's mind, straddling a steed of pure white, her golden hair streaming behind her, a weapon of death in her hand on her approach.

  Sarah shook her head. “She is female, but she is also...”

  “Fierce,” Clara supplied.

  “Yes,” Sarah agreed.

  “So you would agree that it is protection that you most desire?”

  Sarah thought about it for a long moment then slowly nodded. But she preempted Clara's next comment, “Someone like Clarence would protect me, provide for my needs.”

  “ 'Tis true. Clarence is a man of worth.”

  Sarah's eyes met hers.

  “There is not a male which can compare with those of savage blood. If protection is what you seek. Care-taking your heart's desire? I think it is under your pretty nose.”

  Sarah smiled grudgingly. “You are one that should not talk of such. Three males seek your hand. That is two too many, Clara.”

  Clara sighed. It was a sore subject, there was no doubt. “You know why it is the complication it has become. The people...”

  “Argh!” Sarah said. “The people want what you want, Clara. Stop worrying over their perceptions. Except Charles.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  Clara had not spoken to Charles in near a month. They steadfastly avoided each other when she made her rounds in the fields, when she walked. If he saw her, he turned the other way without so much as a greeting. It saddened her.

  Sarah watched her face. “He will come around. And if he were not, it matters nothing. He is cross because he assumed too much.”

  Clara looked at her and Sarah laughed. “He thought after Prince Frederic was dispatched that you and he would develop a romantic relationship. When the Rite of the Select occurred and it was clear that he was not part of your future...” she shrugged.

  Evelyn bounded up from behind and flung herself between them, effectively closing the conversation. Clara was relieved to see that each day her face smoothed out and healed from the abuse vested by the fragment. The cuts were but scabs now and purple bruises had faded to yellow.

  She blossomed into womanhood before their eyes, having turned ten and four just days after returning to the sphere. Every young male of the sphere and several of the clan had noticed she was no longer a girl but a young woman.

  Maddoc was not amused at this development. He was not old enough to school his emotions and glowered when the males were about, drawn to Evelyn like bees to honey. As Sarah did with Philip, Evelyn resisted his attentions. She claimed she should seek the company of her own clan first. After all, that is where she hailed from. Clara thought it was foolish. Maddoc had saved her twice. He was obviously smitten. Could she not see this?

  Could she be as heart-blind as Clara was?

  “I seek the company of a male tonight!” she squealed.

  Please, let it be Maddoc, Clara thought.

  “Who now?” Sarah asked and Evelyn pushed out her lip.

  “I do not frolic about!” Evelyn said, offended.

  Clara and Sarah groaned.

  She did very much frolic.

  Evelyn looked at their expressions and huffed. “Well then, not a great deal.”

  They stared at her.

  “Oh! Alright...mayhap a trifle.”

  Sarah crossed her arms as the small group made their way to the rest stop near the doors of brass.

  “Who is the scoundrel?” Clara asked as she sat upon the long bench which lined the wall of the sphere.

  “It is Jonathan,” she said smugly.

  Clara remembered him. “The wee boy who took care of the horses for the Band?”

  “Wee no longer,” Evelyn enthused.

  Dear Guardian, Clara thought.

  As if conjured in mid-air, Clara made out a group of men charging down the tunnel toward them.

  Clara stood, their posture alarming her.

  Sarah stayed seated upon the bench. “Sit Clara. Nothing is afoot. We have a million males in the sphere and ten of the Band. All is well,” she said in a bored voice.

  “Yes, Clara,” Evelyn said in droll agreement.

  Clara kept standing, she had a keen sense of danger and her intuition had been flagged.

  It was then that Clara heard a pop and sizzle. She looked to her left and above.

  The portal had opened, two strange men falling out. They did not land awkwardly, as her party had, but with expertise.

  They had used the Pathway before.

  Clara's head took in their otherness and she whipped her head to where the Band sprinted toward them. They were too far away.

  Clara said, “Run to the Band. Now!”

  Clara turned, not before noticing they held an apparatus in their hands, its sleekness and ebony color giving hint to the metal it was.

  They appeared to be weapons.

  “Which one is the Key?” one of the men asked the other.

  “The redhead! Shoot her!” Clara heard a pop and something pierced the flesh of her back as she ran. She tried to keep up with the women but landed on her knees, the pads of her hands taking the force of her fall. She began to crawl away.

  Clara could feel the lethargy surging through her body and looked up, her face searching for the Band in a panic.

  Matthew's body filled her vision, he was close enough to touch when she heard one of the men behind him.

  “Shoot him, Gary! He'll kill us.”

  More pops fired and two large
needles pierced Matthew's large chest then Maddoc's and finally Edwin and Daniel were hit.

  The males fell like mighty trees, their weapons splayed like broken leaves around them.

  “Which one is her mate?” The one named Gary asked.

  “Don't know. That's one of the things we're here not to botch up.”

  Evelyn came forward and surprised the other man, biting his arm. He pushed her back and she fell on her backside. She moved to get up again and he leveled the black metal weapon at her chest and fired. The small arrow sunk into her chest and she yelped, giving him an angry look, struggling to get to her feet again.

  Daniel grabbed the other man's ankle, wrenching him forward. “Hit 'em again, Joe.”

  Joe turned and sunk another needle into Daniel. Clara watched as Daniel struggled to keep his eyes open. “Clara...I...I am sor...” his eyes closed and he lay on the dirt floor of the sphere-tunnel.

  Sarah ran and dropped beside Clara, brushing her hair back, she looked to the two men. “I do not know who you be, but you must leave. She is our queen, you have no right,” Sarah said, shaking in abject fury.

  “Nail her too.”

  Gary did.

  Clara watched as the needle hit Sarah in the shoulder, high and beside her collarbone. Tears struggled down her face as she slowly fell on her side, falling asleep as the others.

  The Band lay all around her. Matthew crawled to her side, two needles dancing from his chest as he moved.

  “I thought you said it would put them under?” Joe asked in disgust.

  He nodded his head. “It should put an elephant under. But these men are Band. They have engineered genetics. You understand even now we don't understand all they're capable of.” He leveled the weapon at Matthew and he raised a palm to deflect it. Instead the needle bit into his palm.

  Matthew laid his head down beside Clara, his pillow the curtain of her hair. She gazed back at him, her eyes blinking.

  “I cannot move my body,” she said to no one in particular as Matthew's eyes fluttered closed as she watched.