by Amy Star
“Oh? I’m sorry, Senator, I don’t remember.”
“Oh! Please, don’t call me Senator, I hate that title. Patrick is fine. After all, we are family. Or, we will be soon, which is the same thing to me. Please,” he said.
“Very well,” Sarah said, relaxing a little.
“You probably also don’t remember this place, although you’ve been here before. When you were probably, oh, how old was she Caroline? Two, three?”
Caroline lifted the sharp angle of her chin and shrugged.
Patrick raised his shoulders as well. “You were here with your mother and father. I remember I picked you up and you squealed. You were a very happy child. I hope Caroline hasn’t tempered the spirit too much,” he said with a wink.
Sarah saw another flash of anger stir behind Caroline’s visage, but it was gone as soon as it had come. “Shouldn’t we be making arrangements?” Caroline suggested.
“Of course,” Patrick admitted, “I’ve already taken the initiative. Connor has already left, and should be on the fringe of the border by now.”
Sarah’s heart suddenly beat faster at the mention of his name. Up until now, she had only thought of him the way she had thought of this marriage – as something abstract, not quite real. An intangible question that she had never felt inclined to answer. Tradition prohibited either of them ever meeting or seeing one another’s likeness until they’d come of age. Apparently it was supposed to ensure that neither of them had any pre-existing bias, but she suspected there was a more mythological component to the whole affair – if two lovers had never met before, and suddenly recognized each other in the wilderness, it added a bit of flair to the romance.
Sometimes our families have a weird way of going about things, she said. Even though she was able to recognize she was sheltered, the hours and hours spent reading through the shelves of books at the Estate had granted her at least a credible outside perspective – the Greybacks and Clawgroves, like all great families through the centuries, couldn’t escape the eccentricities of isolation and power. She wondered how it had sculpted Connor and if she would actually be able to see him as more than just an obligation, a duty to her household.
She had, of course, imagined what he might look like – if he was anything like the simpering envoys she had been used to, he was probably a skinny, sycophantic, arrogant politician.
The thought turned her stomach.
“Where has he gone?” she suddenly blurted, and saw the surprise in both Caroline and Patrick’s faces. “I mean, I know we aren’t supposed to see each other…but….”
Patrick intervened. “He’s a brash young lad, that one. Full of his mother’s spirit, bless her soul. As you know, you both must start at separate ends of the ancestral lands. He… got impatient, and took off this morning. But it is for the best. I do apologize for his impertinence.”
“One can hardly be blamed for wanting out of this stuffy manor,” Caroline said, taking a certain pleasure in the Senator’s sour expression. “But like you said, youth is brash. I think it bodes well – Sarah is just as fiery when it comes to regulations. They will no doubt make a good match.”
Sarah bowed her head. Well at least he has spunk, she thought. Anyone willing to stand up to Patrick Clawgrove, whether they were his son or not, had some balls.
Patrick shifted his weight uncomfortably. “But you both must be very hungry. Why don’t we meet back in the dining room around…say, oh, six-thirty?”
*
Sarah’s room was much larger than she had anticipated, and she was surprised at the elegance of it all. It was even more prestigious than the Greyback Estate, which she hadn’t dreamed possible. While Caroline took a shower, she went to the balcony and opened her journal again. Outside, the evening air had a faint sweetness to it, and she breathed in deep, letting the green scent fill her lungs. She felt like hunting, but she knew that was out of the question.
Over the ridge, the moon was just beginning to peek out above the scarp of mountains. Soon she would be down there, scrambling through the ancient wilderness. It was all part of the mating ritual, some ridiculous myth that had to be re-imagined.
Both members from different Tribes were cast out into the wilderness, and over a week’s time were supposed to survive and track each other down. It seemed a little extreme, but Caroline had described it as necessary – in order to fully recognize one another as Bears, they had to undergo a rigorous task. She leafed through the journal again and her thumb accidentally landed on the last page again, where a cruel looking cedar spread itself on the page like a malignant hand.
She turned back into the room and took another glance at herself in the mirror – Caroline had selected a black dress for her. Everything seemed to need to be a shade of black, and she thought she looked a bit Gothic. She fluffed her short haircut with her fingers, and cocked her head, noting the fullness of her lips suddenly in the dim light.
Absently, she cupped her small breasts and surveyed her profile. She hardly looked like a lady. Even under the svelte dress, her athletic body ached to run and sprint. She wasn’t made for heels and frills.
At dinner the other envoys arrived early, and Patrick came in late, huffing to himself, and gave a quick apology as they all sat down at a long oaken table which stretched impossibly into the far corners of the long dining room. A huge chandelier above them caught the light of a hundred candles, and Sarah noticed the butler off to the side and whispered over at Caroline.
“What’s his name, by the way?”
“Does it matter?” Caroline replied, “He’s a servant. He knows his place, and it is a nameless one. Don’t embarrass me, child.”
Sarah flinched, hurt by her cousin’s words. Patrick seemed to catch their exchange and attempted to lighten the mood by raising his glass of wine in a toast.
“Many, many years ago we fought, Greyback against Clawgrove. Those were bad years, years that cemented in us a hardness which remains to this day. I don’t deny that. Blood spilled is not so easily forgiven,” he gave a look at Caroline, “but in order that the bloodshed stop, our ancestors agreed to a peace. That peace began here, and here it has remained, for five hundred long years.
I also don’t deny that even in peace, it has not been easy for all of us. Old hatreds die hard, but for many of us, dying has never been an option. Nevertheless, I hope with this new union… between my own son, Connor… and the lovely princess of the Greyback Tribe, the beautiful Sarah… I hope this union will only emphasize peace, and herald in a new generation of understanding and cooperation between our peoples.”
Everyone raised their glasses, and a few envoys even saluted with a “Here, here.” Sarah drew her own glass to her lips and tasted the pungent wine. It was an old vintage, she knew that. Probably kept stored away just for this occasion. She looked toward Caroline who was already setting her wine glass back down, and she wasn’t certain the matron had even taken a sip.
Caroline had abandoned her black dress – rather, relegated the color to Sarah for the night – in favor of a dark blue number that hugged every angle, and seemed made to outshine everyone in the room. Her large hips swayed indolently, and the bodice of the blue dress was tight enough to squeeze her large breasts together into a flagrant show of cleavage.
“Let peace reign,” Caroline added, but there was something in her voice. She must have seen Sarah looking, because she spun her head toward the younger girl. “Something the matter?”
“No, not at all,” Sarah gulped, “just a little nervous, I guess.”
“To be expected. But you will do famously.”
“It’s hard,” Patrick interrupted, “to bear such a burden of responsibility. I know it was not easy for Connor either. He begrudgingly accepted his birthright, but I know he hates the idea of it. As I’m sure you do, young Sarah.”
She was taken aback by his astuteness, and only held her wine glass awkwardly. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, I just…it’s an odd arrangement,” she said.
<
br /> Patrick nodded. “It is, but as your cousin has pointed out I’m sure, it will be for the benefit of all. I don’t envy you or Connor this responsibility. But the more I get to know you, the more I think you two are probably a perfect fit.”
“How so?” Sarah asked impertinently.
Patrick flushed. “Well, for one… you both hate the idea of this marriage,” he laughed, “and second, I think there is a deeper connection between you two. Maybe a connection neither of you has even recognized nor felt yet, but it is there. Tell me, what do you like to do?”
“Do? I…I don’t know. I like archery and hiking,” she said, folding her hands in the lap of her dress and waiting for the reaction from the adults.
“She will give your heir a run for his money,” Caroline muttered, and Sarah raised her eyebrow. A run for his money? What did that mean? She was under the impression they were all on the same side.
“And I like to draw. I’m not good or anything, but…”
“Excellent!” Patrick exclaimed, “I’m glad the artistic gene ended up in you, Sarah. You know, your mother was quite an artist as well. She loved to paint.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Oh yes. In fact, many of these paintings belonged to her,” he said, motioning to some of the oil prints that decorated the walls of the dining room.
Sarah stood up and walked over to the nearest one, a large canvas of the chalet itself. It was beautiful, momentous. She felt her cheeks grow hot and bit her tongue to keep the tears from flowing down her cheeks. Caroline never told me my mother was an artist, she thought. In fact, Caroline had always been a bit dismissive of Sarah’s attempts at drawing or painting, calling them a “waste of time.” A lady of the Greyback esteem was better suited to training and to practical ventures than the whims or fancies of artistic endeavors. And yet, here was evidence to the contrary. Her mother, of all people, had been the one responsible for her own love of drawing.
She turned back and looked vehemently at her cousin – Caroline made no show of acknowledging Sarah’s stare, and reached for her wine glass again, but didn’t take a drink. At the far end of the table, Patrick lowered his eyes to his food again and, for the first time, his mood seemed to turn grave and he said nothing.
“It’s beautiful,” Sarah said, more as a way to despise Caroline than anything.
“Oh yes,” Patrick agreed.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning, Sarah woke early – she had been barely able to sleep the whole night. Everything she had been avoiding had hit her square in the heart. From her knapsack she had retrieved everything she needed, and double-checked - just to be sure. Knife, canteen, compass, matches, poly-cord. She put them back in the knapsack and looked at herself in the big ceiling to floor mirror again.
She chose light-weight cargo pants and hiking boots, and a thin Neoprene shirt that seemed to match every surface of her abdomen and chest and arms. Her black hair was pulled back tightly and threaded into a tight ponytail. I look ready, she decided, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure for what exactly. She knew the rules and the tradition – they would take her to an isolated and pre-chosen site in the woods. It would be up to her to try and find Connor in the wilderness.
For most people, it would be an impossible task, but she felt strongly about her survival skills – more than once she had isolated herself in the woods behind the Estate in Washington, surviving for weeks at a time with nothing more than a knife. But that had been in summer, and this was early autumn in a much more northern climate.
“You’re up early,” Caroline said behind her.
“I wanted to make sure I have everything I need.”
“You’ll do fine, sweetie,” Caroline remarked, “what’s bothering you? It’s more than just this marriage and the ceremony, I can tell. What’s going on?”
“What if I don’t like Connor? I mean, I’ve never even met him before.”
“You both come from noble lines. That makes you compatible.”
“That’s a bullshit answer,” Sarah snapped, and turned back to the mirror.
“Yeah, I suppose it is,” Caroline finally relented, “truth is, maybe you won’t like him. There’s no way to tell. If he’s Patrick’s son, he’s probably a hellion, I can tell you that much – watch yourself. Don’t take any risks, and keep your guard up.”
“You make this sound like we’re hunting each other. I thought this was a marriage proposal?”
“In a sense, it’s both.”
Caroline turned back toward the door. “C’mon, they’ll be waiting for us.”
A helicopter was waiting for them outside the chalet, a matte black vessel with a thrumming propeller that kicked up dust around it in small hurricanes. Caroline gave Sarah a small push from behind indicating for her to board it, and as she climbed into the cabin, she saw that Patrick was there also.
“Morning!” he said, “I hope you’re well rested.”
“Have you chosen a good spot?” Caroline said, over the top of him, her words drowned out by the helicopter’s propeller as it started to lift off. Sarah felt the contents of her stomach shift.
“Just beyond the northern ridge,” he said back.
From above, the chalet looked like a tiny toy castle, and it was another moment of shock as the landscape shrunk away from them. The mountains to the north now looked even more bitter in their inclines, and Sarah found her blood shivering with the anticipation of being stranded in that vast wilderness. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, and she did her best to hide both of these emotions as the pilot pitched wide, taking them toward a rocky outcrop that overlooked the valley.
All three, Sarah, Patrick, and Caroline, piled out of the helicopter to a safe distance. A huge hill of shale ascended behind them, arching up toward the high peak of one of the nearest mountain ranges. Sarah’s keen senses picked up the smells of other things as well – animals, flowers, wafting in from the valley below. She felt ready to explode – the Bear in her was anxious, testing the chains of her self-control that kept her in Form. “We can’t tell you where Connor is, I’m afraid. You’ll have to find him on your own,” Patrick shouted, “but he has a one day head-start, so he might’ve seen the helicopter. Do you have any other questions?”
Sarah looked back and forth between Caroline and Patrick, trying to wrack her mind for anything she might’ve missed, and when she couldn’t think of anything, merely shook her head. Patrick nodded and clapped her on the shoulder, a huge heavy pad of skin and bone that almost caved in her legs and she let out a small whoof as he returned to the helicopter.
As he turned, Caroline bent down low and grabbed her by the back of her the head, pulling her in close. The action scared Sarah, who reflexively tried to escape her cousin’s grip, but stopped when she heard the serpentine words whispered in her ear.
“Be careful, Sarah. Everything is not as it seems. If you get the chance… kill Connor,” Caroline murmured.
Sarah pulled back, a look of horror and confusion on her face, and felt something cold thrust against her. When she looked down, she saw it was a gun, a black sidearm with a single clip. Caroline pushed at the weapon again, sliding it under the rim of her pants above her coccyx with a look of lethal seriousness.
Then, she was gone, and the helicopter took off, its thumping knocking loose Sarah’s senses like a rockslide as she gaped. Kill Connor?? For a moment, she thought she had misheard Caroline, that perhaps there was something she had missed – but when she brought the gun out and held it in both hands, she knew there wasn’t any confusion.
Caroline wanted her to kill the heir to the Clawgrove Tribe. And, by default, her soon to be husband.
*
Sarah tried to keep her mind focused as she scaled down the incline of the mountain, sliding on the loose gravel and scree, which kicked up dust into her mouth and coated her skin and hair. She was already sweating and breathing hard by the time she reached the bottom of the valley floor and looked back up the way
she’d come – she was making good time, but now with Caroline’s gift she wasn’t sure what she was heading towards. Questions came rushing back, and she felt a pang of nausea sweep over her like an undulating wave.
Why had Caroline given her a gun? And what did she mean that she needed to kill Connor? None of it made any sense. It was all too sudden, too surreal, for her to grasp it. She wanted to laugh. It seemed ridiculous.
She knew that the Clawgroves and the Greybacks had a tumultuous history. But blood hadn’t been shed in almost five hundred years. If it had, it would have started the war all over again – and now Caroline, the current matron of the Greyback Tribe, was actively trying to bring it about? Sarah shook her head again as she started to jog through the underbrush, but her cheeks filled up again and she felt tears streaking from the sides of her eyes and had to stop.
“What are you thinking?” she half-panted as she sat down by a small stream. Mosquitoes buzzed their protests, and the prehensile lapping of the water helped to calm her down.
She hugged her chest again, counted each rib with her finger, like a meditation. She could smell the pine sap in the forest, a sticky kind of odor that saturated everything. In another time, she would have been able to appreciate it as beautiful, but now it all seemed dark and foreboding. She got the distinct impression she was being watched.
She had to think clearly – everything depended on it.
So far, she knew only two things: that she had been preparing for a marriage proposal that involved tracking down her mate, the heir to a Former enemy of her Tribe, and two, that for some inexplicable reason her cousin now wanted her to kill that man.
What if Patrick gave the same orders to Connor? she thought suddenly. Maybe this wasn’t a marriage proposal at all. It was some cruel joke, some horrible game that played a member of each Tribe against each other. She started to hyperventilate and dug her fists into the soft ground to try and calm herself down again.
