Bracus chose Joseph to watch over Clara, instructing him to give the alert if she awoke. He nodded solemnly. Joesph understood better than the others because he wished for Anna to love him. He would be more careful with this new female.
Bracus walked away. But the need to stay by the Princess's side was an unbearable pull that no amount of shaking would loosen.
CHAPTER 23
Clara opened her eyes slowly. She was cold. She did not know at first where she lay. A damp, lightweight blanket covered her from foot to chin, and she discovered one lay under her head as well. She cautiously turned her head to the left. The huge savage lay beside her. At her right was the other savage, the one who made her heart race with trepidation.
Her mind flooded with memories of the last moments before she fainted: Charles struck down, the guards killed, Prince Frederic on the floor, unconscious. That they had not killed her was a mystery. They probably wanted details about her kingdom. They would not get them.
It was the least she could do.
Clara removed her crown, laying it behind her head, symbolic of her dislike of being a Princess. It could stay where it lay. She sat up quietly and looked at the sky. The stars glittered above her like diamonds in black velvet. Taking a deep breath, she was assaulted by the dryness of the air, cool on her lungs. She stifled an urge to cough. The air was so strange Outside. The Record Keeper had been mistaken.
She breathed, and she lived.
Her people did not need to be confined to the sphere.
Clara looked at the savage who lay beside her, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Her eyes traveled to his gills, and they fascinated her. They flowed apart and together with synchronicity.
She shook her misgivings away. She need not dally. Now was the time for escape. She spied her knapsack at the base of her bed and quietly crawled to the end of the bedding, careful not to rustle or make noise. She looped the knapsack over one shoulder as she stood, then round the other. She backed away.
As she was turning, she noted that there were five males, all the biggest she had ever seen in her life. She knew that they were humanoid, but not entirely. With the gills and the hugely muscled physique, she was not absolutely certain what they were.
She moved away slowly, gaining distance, placing her feet in areas where the brush was least and she could traverse it more silently. She looked above her, noting the full moon, so bright outside the sphere it hurt her eyes. The air a bitter testimony to her freedom.
Clara traveled, wishing all the while that she could stop and appreciate finally having escaped to the Outside. As she walked, she made her way to the forest border. She saw the sphere beneath her and thought of Charles. What would be his fate? It was more her fault than she liked to admit.
Tears burned unshed while her face throbbed. Could she do nothing for anyone? She was by herself, having escaped Prince Frederic and the Queen's abuse. But what of food, shelter, and clothing? She sighed, moving forward.
Feeling thirsty, she disentangled her knapsack. Lowering it, she squatted and searched for the water bottle she remembered Charles had filled before the guards and Frederic had come upon them. She shuddered, remembering. He would have raped her had it not been for the savages' timely interruption. A momentary pang of guilt seized her, but she would not let it overwhelm her. She needed to escape them too. Charles's sacrifice would not be for nothing.
She gulped the cool water down, relishing its sweetness, placing her palm on the rough bark of the tree, feeling its texture for the first time. So many new tactile experiences.
Clara became aware of a noise behind her and immediately thought of an animal or some such. The Record Keeper told tales of large animals in the wilderness of the Outside.
Clara whirled around, her skirt swirling around her legs. Before her stood the savage. Clara's heart stopped in her throat. A look of rage stood on his face. Clara did not hesitate. She turned and ran.
She heard his pursuit and realized fleeing might be futile, but she would not just stand there like prey to be taken.
Branches grabbed and tore at her clothing as she ran. Her shoes were a hindrance. The corset bound her lungs.
Crashing behind her, the savage came.
When she felt she could run no more and the breath burned in her throat, his strong arms clasped her from behind, and he lifted her off her feet. She kicked and flailed, trying futilely for release, but his arms were bands of brass, unyielding and hard.
“Be still! I mean you no harm!” He spoke urgently by her ear.
Clara stilled. It was no use. She could not escape the Prince and his guard. She could not escape the savages. Her fate was sealed. She was not her own mistress but the mistress of others.
****
Bracus looked down at the Princess as she struggled. Good Lord, was she a fighter! For such a small female, how she thrashed about. Bracus worked to subdue her without hurting her. It was harder than it seemed. Finally, he wrapped his arms over the top of hers from behind and folded her against his chest. She slowed her struggles when he told her to, but he did not trust that she would cooperate. He cautiously released her, and she turned on him, furious. Those beautiful eyes flashed, one still bruised and swollen, a new mark layered on the old.
Clara turned on the savage, angry with him for capturing her, angry at the circumstance, angry about everything.
“Let me go,” she hissed, her bravado slipping.
“I cannot,” he answered, spreading his arms wide.
Somehow, this was not how Bracus had envisioned their first meeting.
“I have escaped the sphere and wish to be free. I do not want to be forced anymore.” She looked around her and became aware that the remaining savages had subtly appeared in the holes between the trees. Her anxiety grew. She felt claustrophobic, their presence a reminder that a new prison might await her.
“We mean you no harm. We wish to establish a peace between our peoples.”
“So you kidnap me.” Clara raised a eyebrow, looking at each savage. Their eyes glittered in the shattered moonlight. “You rip a hole in the sphere...”
“How else were we to establish communication?” Bracus asked logically.
Clara crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes, feigning bravery she did not feel. “Peaceably?”
Bracus was silent. This was not going as expected. “I am Bracus.”
“I am Clara.” She looked at each savage in turn. If they meant to kill her, they would have done so already. Her eyes rested on the savage who had been outside her sphere. She was not sure what role he played, but she felt least confident about him.
“We need you to accompany us. Our President has a proposal...”
“Your president?”
“Our leader.” Philip stepped forward, and Clara automatically stepped back, which made Bracus itch to touch her. He clenched his hands by his sides to halt the action.
They had no King? Clara wondered.
Bracus saw her expression and, interpreting it correctly, answered. “We have a different hierarchy, Princess.”
“You don't seem like savages...” Except for the clothes, or lack thereof, she thought. But she, wisely, kept that to herself.
Bracus was offended. “We are not savages. We are the Clan of Ohio. And these men and myself... we are the Band, the protectors of our clan.”
Clara covered her mouth. The what? She looked up at him, willing herself not to laugh, but they all wore serious expressions.
The savage who frightened her came forward, and she cringed back.
Bracus, seeing her expression, looked that way and saw nothing but the Band. What frightened her so?
He opened his mouth to inquire when she spoke. “What do you mean to do with me?”
“Just a meeting with our President for a possible negotiation. Then you may return.”
She never wanted to return, not as long as the Queen ruled or Frederic held her captive under the sham of a marriage for alliance.
“But first, I must ask: who has laid hands upon you?”
She had no idea what he was talking about.
He touched his own face, indicating her injuries, and she was reminded of the beating.
Automatically, she replied, “I fell, in the Royal Manse, two days past.”
He stepped closer, and she fought not to move away.
“I know the abuse of a hand and the difference between that and clumsiness. You did not fall,” he stated with surety.
Clara said nothing. By sheer habit and force of will, she held her tongue. She was ashamed by her face, by not being able to defend herself. At least she would not admit it all to this stranger. Bracus, her mind supplied.
Bracus wished to run his hand over her injured face. Why would she not admit the truth? There was much here he needed to understand. There would be time. Somehow, in some way he could not explain, she reminded him of Anna, but not near so timid. The Princess had a fire inside her that burned bright. He smiled at her upturned face.
She smiled tentatively back, her anger beginning to leak away. She did not feel harm from him. Clara felt she was near expert in determining if someone meant to hurt her.
He turned, making his way ahead of her, and she followed. Her future lay uncertain before her, and she must follow it where it led, even if the outcome was a mystery. He held his hand out, and she placed hers within it. He made her feel safe, she was not sure why. She turned to look behind her. The savage she did not trust was at her heel, dark intent shadowing his face. She shuddered, walking on.
The guard bided his time. The Princess—Clara, he corrected—held the hand of his Captain. She was so close he could have reached out and moved his palm through her hair, which had come undone during all the transit. But he knew that time was his friend. And soon enough, he would have his chance to have her all to himself, protecting his clan from the dangerous females of the sphere.
****
They traveled back the way they had come. The horses came into view. Briar Rose appeared silver in the moonlight with a spattering of a darker color appearing along her back and sides. She shone like a faded star, and Clara was drawn to her as a moth to flame.
Bracus released her hand reluctantly as she approached the horse, and he warned her, “Not from behind, Princess. A horse likes to see a person's approach.”
“Clara,” she corrected absently.
She put her hand right up underneath the animal's nose and turned to Bracus. “May I pet it?”
“Her,” he corrected. “Briar Rose.”
“From the fairy tale?”
He looked surprised. “I have heard such.”
“Mayhap we have some of the same literature.”
“Much of what we had was lost.” Bracus shrugged.
Philip added, “In the Time when Ash Covered the Earth, we lost many things of importance.”
Stephen interrupted harshly. “It is not important. Survival is important. That is all that matters now.”
Matthew lifted his shoulders in clear dismissal, and Joseph said, “It is a hard thing, survival. But if happiness and purpose could be obtained as well, I would be keen for them.”
The group of men nodded, and Clara felt that their two peoples were not as divergent as she had presumed.
Reaching out, she touched the great horse's nose. It felt like crushed velvet beneath her hand.
She drew her hand away and looked at Bracus. “She is so soft.”
As if on cue, Briar Rose neighed quietly, shaking her mane and bumping Clara's hand, an invitation for more petting that made Clara laugh.
Bracus could not get enough of looking at her. Here she was, kidnapped from the only home she had known, with five strange men and a new animal she'd never laid eyes on, beaten, and yet she could enjoy a stolen moment with the horse.
Matthew broke the silent rapport. “Let us be about breaking down camp. We have much to accomplish, and the clan does not need our lengthy absence.”
Matthew was practical, and in this area especially, he was vigilant. They did not need the fragment to come lurking about while they were gone. Normally, five males would be too many to take, but Bracus had felt confident it was required. Now that the acquisition of the Princess was accomplished, he knew he had made the right choice.
CHAPTER 24
Charles groaned and looked about him, his eyes gradually adjusting. He became aware of pandemonium all around him. Guards and civilians alike milled about. Charles sat up, trying to get his bearings.
Clara, Charles thought wildly. Finally, his gaze rested on the tear in the sphere, now but a hazy scar of its former breadth.
She was gone, taken by the savages.
A great pain began in Charles's breastbone and spread like an icy fissure, cracking and infinite. He felt the breath stop in his body.
He had not protected her after all.
She was most assuredly Outside, as was their plan. Not with him, but with savages of unknown intent.
He did not care if he lived. The thought of Clara being in the hands of those creatures... He shook his head to clear it.
Wallowing about in grief at her disappearance would not get her back. He stood on shaky legs. His head felt like a vise held it. He looked down the tunnel, through the throng of people and caught sight of Sarah and Clarence. His heart lightened. Among the three of them, perhaps her rescue would be a possibility.
Sarah and Clarence quickened their strides, coming before him, their sides heaving.
“I ran almost the entire length of the tunnel,” Sarah yelled to be heard over the din.
“I have not much time.” Clarence looked decidedly ill. “The twilight drug that you administered has made me vomit up my internal organs.”
Charles smiled. “You will live another day, my friend.”
Clarence glowered and held his stomach gingerly.
“Where is she? And why, for the love of the Guardian, are you not Outside with her?”
Charles looked about him surreptitiously and noticed the Prince’s guards hovering like flies over a fresh carcass.
Charles pulled his two friends away to the only available space and explained everything: the Prince's forced sexual advance against Clara, the savages breaking in and taking her... everything.
“He tried to rape the Princess?” Clarence’s face wore a look of horror.
Charles nodded.
Sarah looked less surprised. “And the savages? They struck you but took her? Did they mean her harm?”
Charles hung his head. He intended to find out.
“I do not know.”
They looked at the healing tear in the tunnel wall.
“It appears scarred, Charles,” Clarence said. There was no going near it. The Queen's guards crawled all around like ants scurrying on their hill.
“So the rumors are true? It is the salt that tears the fabric of the sphere?”
Charles nodded. “Yes, and the savages were aware of that fact. Nothing permanent, as it was a diluted mixture.”
Sarah's hand trembled as she pushed her hair behind her ear. “What is there to do now?”
“I must escape of my own accord and quickly. They cannot have too great a lead.” But Charles had misgivings. He had seen how they moved and acted, spoke. They were clearly competent travelers and fighters.
“But what of Prince Frederic?” Clarence asked. He spared a glance at the Prince, who was batting away his guard's offers of help, clutching his nether regions as if they would come off without his hold.
“Why does he hold himself thus?” Sarah inquired.
“I am not sure, but it would seem that he may have suffered injury.”
“The savages?” Clarence asked.
“Mayhap. He was not able to finish what he started with Clara and did not harm her in my presence.”
“Yet, you were not conscious for her departure.” Sarah emphasized the last word.
Charles shook his head.
The Prince noticed the
three standing apart. Wincing as he walked, he gave up and limped toward them. Charles mastered his expression to not alert the Prince just how much it pleased him he was injured.
“Mr. Pierce!” Prince Frederic shouted, his voice easily swallowed in the tight space of the tunnel with so many people packed together.
“I must speak with you.”
Sarah instinctively stepped behind Clarence. She wished for none of Frederic’s notice.
Charles entertained an elaborate fantasy where the Prince fell clumsily on one of his guardsʼ swords.
Damn, here he was, right before him. Charles's head ached, and his hand was itching to draw the dirk buried in a dead guard's neck.
The image of Clara struggling beneath Frederic was etched forever in his brain.
The Prince leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “You have killed one of my guards,” he began in a furious tone.
Charles smiled, holding up two fingers. “You have more.”
The Prince's rage overtook his face, painting it a red so deep it was nigh unto purple. “You will suffer for that insolence. Queen Ada will allow me whatever I wish.”
“Oh,” Sarah said sweetly, sidling up beside Charles and losing her hard won reticence. Prince Frederic's eyes slid to her, over her body, encased as it was in sky blue velvet.
“I think not, as the rape of the Princess would not be well-received.” She drew her finger upon the flesh of her bosom. His eyes followed. “And you have not the leverage, as the savages have taken Clara, and she is not here for you to wed.” Sarah spoke smugly, her smile alight with the knowledge of his impotence.
Quicker than lightning, he grabbed her wrist, jerking her body against his. “It does not have to be the Princess that I bed. It could be anyone. I was ensuring she understood the life she would lead in my tender care.”
“Release me.” Sarah’s chin jutted out stubbornly.
Clarence intervened. “Prince Frederic, is this the attention you desire?” He looked about him significantly. The people around them paused their hurried conversations. Frederic’s behavior was judged unacceptable in spite of his station.
reflection 01 - the reflective Page 77
