Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  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.

  ****

  King Otto and Prince Frederic had left and were well on their way to the Kingdom of Kentucky. Clara had not realized how encumbered she was with his presence until she knew that he was gone. It lifted a weight from her shoulders and dusted the cobwebs from inside her head for the upcoming conversation with the Queen.

  She entered Ada's chamber and was struck by the mess. Even with Elvira's constant cleaning, Ada was a continual job.

  Clara faced the Queen's back and she stiffened, just knowing Clara was present brought about the reaction.

  Turning, she looked at Clara critically, then finally nodded. “You look as you should for once.”

  Clara nodded. “I came to say goodbye for one day and night of trading...”

  Ada threw her palm up, silencing Clara. “I have been made aware. And that is acceptable, especially as you have taken pains to appear royal and not embarrass me with your typical, foolish dress.”

  Clara said nothing.

  “Elvira,” Ada barked.

  “Yes, my queen,” she said in her cowed way.

  “Do you have the list of parcels for the Princess?”

  Elvira nodded, her hair bouncing about her shoulders, having come undone from its confines with all the straightening.

  “Fetch it then, servant.”

  “Yes, my Queen.”

  Clara loathed her mother.

  Elvira brought the list to Clara, and while looking it over noticed a different thing. “What is this, spirits?” Clara looked up sharply, her suspicions confirmed.

  “It was Frederic's suggestion...” Ada remarked casually.

  He wishes to have her drunk with something stronger than grapes; this would aid his plan of power.

  “Are the grapes not enough?” Clara asked with transparent disdain.

  “Watch your tone, Princess.”

  Clara waited.

  “I tire of wine, methinks spirits a refreshing distraction.”

  Liar, Clara thought.

  Well, she would not be getting any spirits on this journey. That thought appeared the happiest of the day.

  Olive entered the Queen's chamber. After a low curtsey, she turned to Clara. “Princess, Sarah has requested your presence.”

  “Really?” Ada's eyes narrowed and Clara rushed to explain.

  “I was compelled to cut our visit short one night past.”

  “That is not what I heard. I was told that you arrived back at the Royal Manse, half past one this morn.”

  Clara was speechless for a heartbeat. “We had much to discuss.”

  The Queen approached Clara, all subdued violence-in-motion, her hand moving restlessly over the strand of pearls she always wore about her neck.

  “Do not let your discussions stray to royal tales, Clara.”

  “I will not.”

  “Will not, what?”

  “I will not, my Queen.”

  Ada smiled cruelly, and turned on her heel, giving a dismissive wave to Clara.

  Clara was almost to the door when she spoke again, never turning, “What will you tell others when they see your face?”

  “That I fell, Queen Ada.”

  “Very well.”

  And Clara walked out, eternally grateful to leave the space the Queen occupied.

  CHAPTER 18

  President Bowen was as distressed as Bracus over the Princess's state, but was equally interested as to why Bracus would have been in close enough proximity to know that the Princess had been thus abused.

  “I do not have a plausible explanation but I had a feeling of forebod
ing...”

  “One day past?” President Bowen asked.

  Bracus nodded.

  Bowen palmed his chin thoughtfully, bringing it over the front of his face, rubbing back and forth in irritation while Bracus waited.

  “I cannot dismiss the relevance of that. I remember very well your intuition saving us during the fragment conflict.”

  Still Bracus waited and the silence drew out.

  Finally, Bowen said, “Take half the Band and extract her.”

  Bracus swung around to leave. “Goodman,” Bowen called after him.

  Bracus turned, his body illuminated by the early morning light that filtered in through the cave's entrance.

  “Keep the casualties at zero, if you can.”

  “Yes, President Bowen,” his chin brushing his sternum in a formal nod.

  Bracus jogged outside the cave where Matthew waited, saddled upon his mount, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “He agrees.”

  Matthew's shoulders settled into a relieved posture.

  “We must retrieve four members and acquire the Princess.”

  “Including us?”

  Bracus nodded, “Yes, we must keep a contingent here in our absence. There have been sightings of the fragment.”

  Bracus knew that the fragment lurked around the perimeters of the clans, searching for the lone female as easy pickings. Not during his time. It would not happen, had not happened. He was ever vigilant in securing his clan's safety.

  Matthew brought him back from his thoughts. “Let us take our leave and alert the others.”

  Bracus mounted his horse, and turned her, at the same time stroking the animal's side. Briar Rose was a fast ride, well trusted. He felt as if they were of one body when he rode upon her.

  ****

  Bracus made careful selection amongst the Band. Philip would accompany him, of course and Jack would stay with Lillian as he would be too much in his head to fight if it were needed.

  He looked at each of the male's faces and called out, “Philip, Stephen, Matthew, and Joseph.”

  Matthew gave Bracus a hard look. “Captain Goodman, do you think only five is wise? Did the President not say...”

  “He did. But,” and Bracus held up a finger, Briar Rose shifting under his weight, “I am not comfortable leaving the clan with only two of the Band.”

  Philip looked sharply at him, his hand shielding the sunlight from his eyes. “Do you have... a...”

  “Yes. I am disquieted on both fronts. We need to rescue the Princess and defend the clan while the majority of the Band is not here,” Bracus said, looking at each Band member's upturned face, except for Matthew, who was mounted as he.

  “We mustn’t return to a compromised security. This is the only way I can leave and have my heart stay within my breastbone.”

  The Band laid their fists over their heart and Bracus was moved by their loyalty.

  He dismounted and a lad of about ten and three years took Briar Rose. Bracus turned, telling the boy, “Please give her the oats and only one cube of sugar... you will rot her teeth out of her head, boy!” he said in admonition, but smiled to soften it. That boy took very good care of his mount, who looked upon him quietly as if she understood she would receive a treat.

  He slapped her on her hindquarters, making it a long caress at its end, she neighed softly at him as she was led away to the stable.

  There was much to do and Bracus wished to make the most of it. He gathered up his weapons and a fresh change of tunic for the journey, storing a soft, cotton blanket in a tight weave... what else? Ah! He grabbed his flask, filling it with the salt. It would not have done to forget that! Which reminded him to go to Evelyn and see how she fared with the hot water.

  Bracus approached the cistern with a swinging bucket resting atop. Evelyn gave him her charming smile, her hair tied with a single, blue ribbon of satin.

  “Captain,” she curtsied.

  “Evelyn... how fare you?”

  “Very well this day,” she said, smiling through platinum hairs which escaped their tether.

  He smiled and held up his flask, which she frowned at and Bracus raised his eyebrows.

  “Is it the flask that is lined with duck?”

  He nodded and she sighed with relief. “Good, this will need to be very hot to dissolve the salt and...” she mimed twirling the whole lot of it, “needs to be shaken about like this,” she did it again, “to keep the salt from settling at the bottom and hardening like the clay beneath our feet.”

  Bracus looked down at the dirt floor of his clan and did agree. It was heavily trod upon and acted almost like the cobblestone paths and roads he had seen outside of the clan, where vines grew rampant over everything the eye could see.

  He grabbed the flask away from her and she held on, not letting go until he gave her a good tickle. Finally, she gave in clutching her ribs and giggling as he captured his prize. An important one, as it held the key to the penetration of the sphere.

  The sphere which held the special female, his female his mind whispered. His heart sped in anticipation of rescuing her. For that was what it now was. It was no simple acquisition mission. Not that it ever had been simple. He now had her safety to secure as well. Who preyed upon her? And where were her protectors? Bracus thought yet again as he said goodbye to Evelyn.

  He strode to Briar Rose, the lad Jonathan, gently holding the bridle, being mindful of her mouth. Bracus grabbed the reigns, tossing them over her neck with slack, he stuffed one leather encased foot in the stirrup and heaved his body on the saddle, settling in comfortably.

  The Band looked at Bracus and he looked at who he left behind. They would be the protectors in their comrades' absence. It should be sufficient he told himself. But his gut churned and his intuition flared to life, whispering to him it was not a perfect solution.

  They nudged their horses' sides and the great beasts sprang to life, taking the path that had been trod so often before. That which led outside the clan gates and into the forest below.

  CHAPTER 19

  Clara clutched Sarah in her arms, both women not wanting to say goodbye. Finally, Sarah pulled away and looked into Clara's face. “You are doing what is right, Princess.”

  “Do not call me thus, I do not deserve the title.”

  “Clara, our People do not wish for your death. And that is what this would be, if you stayed,” Sarah said, a finger tracing first Clara's lip then the swollen lump which made her eye a fraction of its normal size.

  Clara sighed. “I am glad that you think so highly of me, it will take some doing for me to share your esteem.”

  “It may not be as long as you think, once things settle here...”

  “Or if they do not?” Clara said, anger slipping into her tone.

  “We will not revisit this conversation, it is circular as well you know.”

  Clara did.

  Charles said, “We must go.”

  The women looked at him, sighing then Clara nodded.

  Sarah and Charles embraced each other and she said, “Take care of her, Charles.”

  He looked insulted. “You know that I will.”

  “I must say the words.”

  Charles laid his hand on her shoulder, looking down into her earnest face. “I know, we are all on edge. We will see you sometime.”

  “Yes sometime,” Sarah said sadly.

  Clara ran to her again, skirt pouring behind her, all but flinging herself in Sarah's arms. “Do not weep for me, there will not be one day that I do not think of you and all that you have been to me.”

  “And I, you,” Sarah said through a voice choked by emotion.

  Charles separated them and pulled her out of Sarah's vestibule, with no definitive time of returning.

  ****

  Clarence saw Charles' tall form and that of the Princess in her royal attire and fought his emotions. He was the main guard at the intersection of the trade tunnel and their sphere, and felt derelict in his duties. Yet, after Char
les had explained the Princess' plight, he felt honor-bound to assist them.

  And as she drew near, the evidence of the violence divested upon her stood out in stark relief. Her glorious eyes, usually filled with fire and good humor, were now tight with anxiety and one of them almost swollen shut. Prince Frederic should be put out of his misery, Clarence thought, not for the first time.

  “Greetings, Princess,” Clarence said, bowing low.

  “Please Clarence, Clara is fine. The Queen is not here to notice in any event.”

  Clarence contained his expression of shock as Clara's face came into view as the light grew brighter at this junction of the sphere. However, she noticed some of the dismay he could not contain and self-consciously covered her face in shame, a small hand in front of the damaged eye.

  Charles took her hand away. “It is I that should be ashamed, as I could not aid you, not you. Never you.”

  “Princess, he is less than a man for having hurt you,” Clarence added in agreement.

  “I could do nothing, and that is what shames me, not the beating.”

  They heard the hissing at the same moment and looked as the tunnel seams released steam to the Outside. That happened at the top of each hour. And sure enough, the time piece that hung, suspended from its copper housing, clanged two chimes, the gears moving almost soundlessly below the crystal.

  “The hour draws near for my replacement to relieve me.”

  Charles was already searching through his knapsack and finally came out with a small crystal vial with cork for a cap.

  The liquid gleamed inside the vial, Charles also extracted a decanter with something in it.

  Clarence raised his brows.

  “Wine. We 'shared' a glass before you saw us through the first milepost.”

  “Clever.”

  “I thought so.”

  “Oh! You two, you make me nervous, get on with it.”

  They looked at her, her hands white from clenched tension, their self-congratulation lost in the brevity of the circumstance.

  Humor disappearing, Charles solemnly poured a small amount in the wine decanter. Handing it to Clarence, who took it and brought it to his lips, downing the entire flask.