Clara suddenly felt flushed and wished to be out of the spring, her fingers pruning and her body languid.
The mood was solemn as they exited the pool. Clara took her time to dry off, the fragrance of the soap heady in her nostrils. Though she was somber in her mood, she found these females brought her happiness. It had been some time since her spirit felt weightless.
She dressed quickly and, gathering up their towels, and implements, she followed her new friends up the steep path.
Having lived a life where she was constantly aware of her surroundings she almost missed being taken by Matthew of the Band. But in the end, she was no match for his stealth, reacting a moment too late.
He claimed her from behind with ease, clamping on to her waist and covering her mouth. She could hear the murmured conversation of Lillian and Anna ahead of her, powerless to alert them as she was taken from the area with swift and deadly precision.
The guard, Matthew, she thought, for she knew who it was as the fire, that liquid warmth climbed to the surface of her body like banked embers. He had captured her easily and ran with her body slung over his shoulder.
Clara fought in earnest and he held her tighter against his shoulder, his slow trot never wavering.
My Guardian, he was strong, he made the Prince look weak. She grew dizzy as the time wore on, his breathing becoming more labored as he tore through bushes, seamlessly navigating a path that she could not see, her head bobbing against his flank.
Finally, he slowed, then stopped. Roughly grasping her legs, he swung her upright and set her down on her feet with an alarming thud. Lightheaded after being upside down for thirty minutes or more, Clara swayed and fell to her knees.
Then she retched the supper she had so enjoyed onto the ground before her.
Matthew tried to not feel anything for the female, remembering that she was to be returned. Or at the very least, out of his clan but he had a physical reaction to her weak retching and dizziness, his gut churning and releasing. It was possible he had treated her too roughly, the constant jarring and subsequent dismount to the ground. He did not know, he had no experience with females except for Margaret.
That strengthened his resolve, he would not weaken before her.
Clara looked up at Matthew who gazed down at her coldly and wished she were dead. He had captured her and was taking her, Guardian knows where. All her earlier peace gone on the wind. She wiped a shaky hand against her mouth, throwing spittle away in the ferns at her side. She shook her head, trying to clear it and started to crawl away. She would not go willingly if it killed her.
He could not believe this female! After all that she had been through she still would try to free herself of him.
Grimly, Matthew went after her and flipped her over on her back and she cried out, “Please!” she shielded her face. “Do not... do not hurt me.”
Ignoring the instinctive twist of his gut as her words speared his consciousness, Matthew grabbed her by her wrists and jerked her roughly to her feet. Taking her slender throat in one hand he slammed her against the tree. “We do not need females from the sphere.”
Fragrant evergreen needles fell on Clara like rain when her back hit the tree... her head swimming in a nauseating fog. She saw his face, the intense blue eyes boring into hers and she said the first thing that came to mind, “Kill me,” she squeezed out of her raw throat. Her vision dimmed to a small point and the edges began to fade to gray.
Matthew became aware of heat in his hand and saw her eyes start to flutter closed and a feeling of fierce, instinctive protection swelled up inside himself for her... for this female. As much as his intellect battled to assert his will, he could not physically harm her. He gathered her limp body with his free arm, and took his hand gently from her neck, her head falling forward on his chest. He scooped her into his body in a cradle hold, as confused as he had ever been in his life.
An inner turmoil raged within as he made his way to the fence which surrounded his clan, her still body pressed against his chest.
****
Lillian gave a low chuckle at Anna's comment, thrilled that she was so engaged in conversation and turned to look for Clara. Shouldn't she be coming along; what had her lagging behind so?
She paused and Anna turned, her eyebrow raising was clearly illuminated by the glow of the candle.
“Clara?” Lillian called. “do not dawdle, we have much yet to discuss.”
Anna's face changed to worry. “She does not impress one of folly. Was she not right behind us?”
Yes, she had been.
The women hurriedly retraced their steps and came upon Clara's reticule and towel, sprawled on the path in a wet heap.
“Clara!” Lillian screamed.
“She has been taken!” Anna cried.
By whom, Lillian thought. Her mind immediately went to Matthew.
Where was he?
Anna whipped her head around to look at Lillian. “Where is Matthew?”
Where indeed?
The women wasted no time, rushing the entire length back to the clan. They stumbled into the dwelling area and found Stephen and Joseph who stood upon seeing their expressions, their backs to the fire.
“What is it?” asked Joseph eying Anna over carefully and finding no damage. She shook off his concern immediately, worried only for Clara.
Both women spoke frantically at the same time and Stephen put a hand up, silencing them.
Joseph was shocked, he had never heard Anna speak so much.
Anna looked at Lillian.
Lillian nodded and told the tale. She mentioned that she suspected Matthew and Stephen's eyes became hooded with anger.
“It cannot be him, he is Band. He would not harm a female, let alone take one.”
Joseph shifted uncomfortably, Stephen turned on him, grabbing his large bicep. “What say you?” he said in a low urgent voice.
“Matthew is friends with no one.” Stephen nodded, releasing him and giving him the gesture with his hand, go on, “even you, who runs with him, fights with him. You but know him a small amount.” and Joseph put his index and thumb together, leaving the barest of spaces between them.
“And you do? Know him?” Stephen spit out, angry at the situation, frustrated at their position. The Princess gone, maybe taken by a member of the Band. Or worse, in the hands of the fragment.
“He spoke of his past only one time.” They all waited for him to continue. “And there was a girl...”
“How old was he when he came to us?” Lillian asked for clarity, knowing that Anna knew even less than she.
“Ten and two years.” Stephen said immediately.
“He was with the fragment and how he was with them we do not know, as they have no Band. But, he was mistreated by all, save one girl, Margaret. She saw that he had food enough to exist, but could do no more. Later, when some males discovered what she meant to him, they assaulted her in front of him unto her death. He vowed that he would never care about a female again.”
“This would have been good information to share,” Stephen said with real reproach.
Joseph sighed. “He swore me to secrecy. He promised it would not affect his duty to the Band.”
“Isn't it a biological directive to protect if you are Band?” Lillian asked.
“It is,” Stephen said slowly. “But it is entirely possible he has some internal wires crossed; his directive becoming mixed with the environment in which he was raised.”
“When he was forming, a young man subjected to that much abuse...” Anna trailing off, entering the conversation again.
“Yes, it would be a devastating start for one of the Band. We are aggressive by nature and that kind of treatment, over time would not be ideal.” Joseph said.
“Ideal?” Stephen questioned sarcastically. “If he has indeed taken Clara, then we are honor-bound to find him before something irrevocable happens to her or to him.”
“Agreed,” Joseph said. “But how,” he asked, flashing a palm t
oward the women. “We cannot leave them here and the clan unguarded.”
Stephen had an idea. “Is President Bowen still here?”
Joseph nodded.
A look of relief washed over Stephen's face. “He can remain with his Band and leave after our return.”
“What do we say about Matthew?”
“For now we treat this as a disappearance, what if Matthew is not responsible? Then we cast doubt upon him forever with an unproven accusation. No. We see the President now,” he looked at the women, “Go now to your dwellings, say nothing. We will return and tell you what will happen.”
Lillian did not like that Matthew was being afforded this benefit. But, she realized it was justice, of a sort. After all, he was twenty and two years and there had never been anything she had heard that was contrary to his loyal protection of the clan. Still, Clara was gone.
A frown furrowed the area between her eyes. How much more could the Princess withstand?
****
Charles and Clarence came into view of a huge timber fence with single logs too big for a man to embrace. The tops of which had been sharpened to pencil points. He was sure that he could see the flash of a fire which burned in the heart of it.
“It looks like this is the end of the trail. The savages must abide here.”
Charles nodded. They were achingly tired, having traveled two days to this spot. But he must try to penetrate the fence and find Clara. At the very least, he needed to know that she lived.
A large gate swung open and two huge men exited One was speaking heatedly with the smaller guard that was operating the gate. Another man that was noticeably older with an air of authority (the Queen came to mind) gestured toward a point which was north of here.
They crouched down, unmoving. “Savages,” Clarence breathed out.
Charles nodded, taking in the huge males' height and something he wasn't sure how to name. There was a lethal grace in the way they moved. He had trepidation about the potential to come against them, yet Clara had been taken. He swallowed back his anxiety. Some things needed to be done, regardless of how one felt about it. Bravery was a matter of containing your fear while throwing away caution.
They watched as the savages threw strange-looking knapsacks on their backs. A small stable boy approached with giant horses; horses that bore no resemblance to those of the sphere. Where was Clara, Charles thought in frustration?
Suddenly, a women ran to one of the savages throwing her arms around him. He hugged her hesitantly at first then the hug turned fierce as he wrapped his arms around her until she was engulfed in his embrace, his size overwhelming hers.
They waited.
****
Anna and Lillian watched President Bowen argue with Stephen and knew that if Bracus was here, things would not be at the fever pitch that they had slid into.
“Bracus is rescuing Evelyn now and you are reclaiming the Princess?” President Bowen said derisively. “Why was there only one guard on her?”
Stephen held his temper, but it was a near thing, swimmingly close to the surface, as it was for all the Band. “It is as I said before. The women,” he gestured to Lillian and Anna, “planned to bathe at the springs and we felt that inside the border, they would be safe enough with one member of the Band about.”
President Bowen's gaze fell like a weight on Stephen. He held his breath, hoping beyond anything that Bowen would not intuit the circumstances of her disappearance. What if Matthew had claimed her in some odd way? What if she were a select? After all, had she not responded strangely to first Philip and then Matthew? None if it bore any sense. It was his natural directive to protect, which would be even more amplified with a female. However, with the knowledge of his abuse at the hands of the fragment, his motives were now in question.
The President ran a hand through what little hair he had atop his head and with a heavy sigh said, “We will stay for two days hence, with my Band.” and he frowned. “But know this, I want that Princess back here, standing in front of me, unharmed. Do you understand?”
He did.
“I will, Mr. President,” Stephen replied, casting a glance at Joseph who looked like he may have been nervous. But the Band were predators, heaping emotion or perceived weakness under the veil of blankness. They all did that very well. It was automatic, akin to breathing.
Bowen narrowed his eyes at Stephen and pointed his finger at his chest, where his head reached. “Do not engage the fragment, they are too many without your Band mates. Even for her.”
He nodded but knew if she was coming to harm, he and Joseph would die to save her.
A sound made him turn and it was Anna, running toward them.
Now what?
Joseph looked at her with contained care, his desire riding in his eyes, bypassing his instinct for indifference. She leaped into his arms making him stagger back from the impact. Then hesitatingly, he wrapped her in his fierce embrace.
She pulled away from him just a little and they stared into each others eyes. Hers were brimming with unshed tears. On his face rode a stunned expression of surprise that he made no attempt to hide.
Stephen looked on with interest. He could not believe this was Anna.
Apparently, neither could Joseph.
“Why now?” he whispered bending down, his lips moving close to her ear.
“I don't want to lose you, I know that now,” she stammered, the first fat tear making a wet trail down her cheek. It trembled at her jaw and Joseph used a finger to catch it.
“I will return for you,” Joseph said simply, his fingertips climbing their way up her arms, where they grasped her shoulders. He drew her closer and she looked up at him, putting a hand on his chest.
She warned, “It will not be simple between us.”
Joseph shrugged. “Nothing valuable is gained through ease.”
She smiled and it was sun breaking through the clouds, he couldn't help but grin back. It was a contagious thing, breaking the tension of the preceding moments like rain in a desert. It was a fine thing to see a member of the Band commit to a female and she to him.
The President said, “I do not wish to separate two so newly linked...” he trailed off.
Anna looked at him with gravity. “I understand duty.”
He nodded. “I am glad that you do, but I will not lie. I am unsure as to how and where the Princess and Matthew may be... what danger awaits them.” he looked at Joseph and Stephen tilting his head in their direction. “I cannot make promises.”
She nodded, drying tears marking her face. But it was a face that shone with hope, an expression she had not owned in some time.
Joseph felt for the first time in his life there may be something beside purpose and duty. And he now had an inkling about what made Jack who he was. He had Lillian, the other half that 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; stopping him from leaving her. Now that she had decided to trust him the grief she felt from his departure crushed her, immobilizing her. She prayed that he felt as she did.
She watched his broad back disappear on his horse, Stephen riding beside him.
Trepidation and fear swirled around her heart like clinging fingers of mist, a shroud she hoped not to bear 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 is 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 him in a halting bumble was the Record Keeper's associate, Ernest. He was an abiding fool, but Ada needed him. He held precious maps, set aside 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 said dipping his h
ead and bowing twice.
Insufferable fool.
She placed her hands on her hips, the guards swarming around her like pesky but necessary wasps.
“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 she 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 who approached.
“My Queen,” the guard dropped to his knee before her.
She rolled her eyes. “Stand.”
He stood, his guarded eyes assessing her mood and finding it foul, as usual.
“You will be in charge of these documents,” flinging her hand in Ernest's direction.
“Yes, my Queen,” he said with gravity. 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' involvement in the kingdom, they were utterly lost. The Queen wished to drink from the cup and the Prince of Kentucky was a tyrant bent on reigning through fear, threats and abuse. How he wished 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 the machinations of Henry and did not care for a guard that thought overly much. She preferred her guards simpler. Ada had been fortunate not to have Henry or other guards like him that night when Clara had needed discipline.
“Leave us,” the Queen said, dismissing Ernest by turning her back on him.
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