She pointedly gazed at the small flock of servants who lingered at their elbows and he turned to the group of loyal subjects that attended him each day. “Perhaps a moment alone with Princess Ada?” he suggested as was his way. Raymond had always been somewhat uncomfortable in his station.
Ada was not; she seemed utterly content in her role as royal. She made a fine dictator yet Raymond thought she could never lead, not really.
When the last of them left the breakfast room Ada began, “Oh Raymond, tell them what it will be and they shall do it.” Her dark eyes, like so much obsidian fire, drilled him with their cool heat.
His gaze darkened. “This is still my kingdom, Ada, regardless of how you run things in your sphere, I will do as I choose-- here.”
Her small smile turned into a slow grin. “My subjects do exactly as I say.” Her eyes had been cast down at her bowl, empty of melon, then they swept up to meet his. “However, when our Wedded Joining has come to pass, it will be run by our sovereign union.” She leaned back. “Besides, I am compromising on this false pregnancy so that you might align and help with the Guardians.” She gave a faint giggle and Raymond's brow rose, failing to see any humor.
She let a thin shoulder lift then drop. “They mean nothing. They are but using us as pawns.” She leaned forward. “We have something they want and they have spared us but for a season, no more. Once they have what they wish,” she closed her bony hand into a fist that clenched so tightly it bled to white, “we will no longer be useful.” She rested her fork on the side of her bowl, the tines hanging over the rim and turned upside down. “Mark my words, Prince Raymond: I will be the lackey for this debauched plan of yours and the Guardians, I will bear this false child... but there will be concessions.”
“What?” Raymond asked, having been silent the entire time the viper carried on.
“What...? At the very least, I shall be allowed whatever dalliances I so desire.”
Good Guardian, she was an immoral strumpet. As Raymond regarded her, the greed and tyrannical dictatorship she coveted could be seen in its infancy even then. Raymond would forever regret his part in bringing her into his peaceful sphere, regardless of his noble intentions.
“I would also require a free trade agreement with your adjacent sphere.”
The Kingdom of Kentucky. Marvelous, Raymond thought, unimpressed with the rulership he had witnessed there from the young King Otto. Things were degrading even faster than Raymond could have speculated.
“You shall rut with the whore of the Savages and I will assist you in bringing up the spawn that will result from the unholy coupling. Then,” she tapped her fork on the edge of the crystal bowl. It rang as all glass that held flint in its composition is wont to do, “I shall enjoy myself while the grapes of the vine flow unabated into the vessels of this sphere.”
Raymond had had enough of this vile creature. He stood and she leaned back as calm as a breeze less day. “I will not allow my... wife,” his voice stumbled a bit over the future moniker, so unfitting for one such as she, “to have relations with whatever male is willing, while she drinks of the grape until her brains slip out of her ears.”
Ada stood, high color rushing to her cheekbones. “Oh, you of your high moral standing, my Prince,” she bit out, flinging a skinny arm about her. “I shall partake in whatever lust is driven my way and I will also consume as much wine as I like or... I will tell every one of your royal subjects that you run through the mythical Pathway to lay with a heathen Savage whore... my Prince,” she finished, her eyes raking over Raymond and he knew he should not but he was unable to help himself.
His hands landed on her person, biting through the deep grape velvet shoulders of her dress, her small bosom pushed into service very near her throat. Chest heaving Raymond snarled into her face, “She is anything but a whore, you ignorant drunken slut, and I shall not hear you refer to her as whore when you mate with anything which has a swinging appendage,” he seethed.
“Do not stop there, hit me, Prince, so that the kingdom may know of what ye are capable.” She laughed in his face and his rage knew no limits, the pressure of his position, his uncle's imminent death and his unlikely attraction to Rowenna washed over him and he had a quaking moment of uncertainty in which he thought he would wrap his fingers around that bird-like throat, pressing his hands together until Ada spoke no more.
Lived no more.
The knock saved him, shattering his thought processes and he lifted his hands off her shoulders, throwing them in the air and stepping back from her.
Those glittering eyes begged for him to take her in hand.
She would greatly fancy that, Raymond thought. For then he would be even more diminished by her.
I think not, Raymond decided, regaining his composure with more effort than he was comfortable with. “Enter,” Raymond said, though his eyes never left her's. She bore watching.
Billy the cook came through the threshold, all but wringing his hands and took one look at the royal pair, visibly paling. “My apologies, Sire... I did not realize...”
Raymond put his palm up to halt Billy's speech. “It matters not,” his disdainful gaze swept over Ada with thinly veiled disgust. “We were finished.”
He left Ada in the breakfast room, following Billy out.
“My Lord,” Billy began and Raymond clapped him on the back.
“Never you mind, your meal was excellent, as usual.” Raymond watched Billy visibly relax.
“Aye, I was hopeful that something had not gone awry, Sire.”
“Only my life,” Raymond muttered.
Billy's eyes sharpened. “I beg your pardon, Prince Raymond?”
Raymond gave a small shake of his head. “It is nothing.”
Yet everything.
Billy looked unconvinced, for he was more than a cook or a baker, but a smart man who was prone to thinking on his feet.
As he did now. Raymond caught Billy looking at the great closed doors of the breakfast chamber with a slight frown on his face. A scowl of concentration burrowed between his brows for a moment then lifted.
“All will be well, my Prince,” he said, looking decidedly odd without a rolling pin in his meaty hand.
He cocked his head and looked at Raymond. “Do ye fancy taking a break at the bread table, Sire?”
Raymond did. “Do you have the cheese bread...”
“Aye, I do.”
Raymond smiled, it came to be the only genuine one of the day. His stomach gave an appreciative growl at the suggestion of some of the fragrant cheese bread that Billy was so proficient at preparing in the domain of his kitchen.
Raymond found his appetite had returned with gusto when the company had changed.
Ada's presence would be sufficient to keep him svelte in the years to come. He found he never dined with vigor whenever she was about. Ada had that effect on many.
*
Rolland plunged through the thickest part of the wood, grabbing the nape and partial collar of the Fragment who had tried to escape him.
“Ah!” Rolland launched himself at the coward and swung him around against the trunk of the nearest tree, the impact shaking some early autumn leaves upon them like crisp rain.
Rolland's eyes narrowed. “Tell me heathen!”
The Fragment's frightened eyes rolled up into his skull. “I don't know! I've said that already!”
Rolland translated the rough and slurred speech of the Fragment easily. He had been on enough missions to get a feel for the cadence of the missing letters that seemed to exemplify their mixed speech.
Rolland shook him again in disgust, dumping him where he stood and the relieved Fragment slid down the rough bark of the tree. His smile was out of place with the dire circumstance he found himself in and Rolland frowned.
“Your amusement baffles, vermin,” Rolland announced, powerful fists resting on his hips.
“You will die, Band,” he said with unwavering certainty.
Rolland's eyes narrowed, his
eyes scanning the immediate area as he pulled and knocked his arrow, stepping back from the lying male pooled at the base of the tree. He became still like a statue and when ten of the Fragment bled through the woods he was ready; unsurprised by their sudden appearance.
Rolland glanced at the one he had shaken like a bag of feathers and smirked. “Oh, I do see. You did not know where your comrades lie?” Rolland nodded sagely. “As if I would fall for a ruse as transparent as that.” His eyes narrowed on the Fragment even as he stood.
“Where there is one Fragment, there are more,” Rolland stated by rote and with the truth of historical precedence all the proof he had needed.
“That's right, you dumb lug,” the Fragment said, as emboldened by numbers, he took a brazen step toward Rolland, releasing his primitive dagger from its sheath.
“We will gut you like the pig you are...”
Rolland gave a shrill whistle. It sounded like a bird of prey giving a stout warning. Like a clear whistling bell it spoke to the wood, carrying very well beyond its border.
The Fragment looked about themselves uneasily as Rolland took the one who he had first encountered in the throat with his sprung arrow. It pierced him cleanly and he gave a gurgling gasp. Sinking to his knees, he tore the arrow out and Rolland smiled. It was the worst thing he could have done. There was no extension of life with that move, he had effectively ended his sooner.
“Excellent!” Rolland said loudly, gathering another arrow. However, he missed his nocking as the vision of who responded to his call made his smooth battle finesse utterly leave him.
Rowenna appeared as his first reinforcement and he wished to throttle her. Had it been a male of the Band, Rolland could have easily moved to flank the Fragment where they could have beheaded and gutted with glee, as was the usual protocol for a random group of Fragment.
Not now. Rowenna had halted that momentum neatly with her appearance.
Every Fragment's eyes were on her. Their lust and greed as well.
Damn. Rolland hesitated for perhaps two seconds considering his options of protection for a female that refused it with customary disregard.
Then Rowenna made up his mind for him. With a banshee wail, Rowenna moved forward with a smooth gait of practiced battle ease. Yet these Fragment were not Bandmates who would check their swing.
They would incapacitate her for later. Killing her would be more merciful.
Rowenna swung at the first Fragment within arm's reach, his weapon was not at the ready as he made the grave mistake of seeing Rowenna's outward appearance only and dismissing her. He realized too late the threat that she really was as she sliced a gruesome second mouth beneath his chin. It opened like a white slit at first, as if his body was surprised at the cut, then it bled with ferocity. The Fragment staggered forward as two more fell to Rolland's blade.
“Rowenna!” Rolland yelled as she cut like a pinwheel of blades toward the approaching Fragment, who had become wiser to the seducer of war, beautiful to look upon, deadly to engage. “Do not get close!” he finished and bashed in the brains of one who would slay him from behind. There was always a tell, forward movement brought air that possessed a unique pressure. Rolland swung low and ducked as the blade passed over his head, that whistling a better sound than the meaty pause it might have had if he had been but a moment slower.
He swung backwards with his dagger in a thrusting punch and the blade landed and stabbed. Rolland tore it out of wherever it stuck and ran to Rowenna, with nary a backwards glance. She was clearly a distraction and hindrance: did she not understand that in battle a male of the Band would risk all to save her? That was not the case with other males of the Band. There was camaraderie to be certain but the males worked in sync to defend, not protect one another.
The hellion.
Said hellion had allowed a Fragment to circle too close and his thick palm wrapped the long plait at her back and she yelped mid-flight as he jerked her to him.
Then a blur of muscled male slid past almost faster than Rolland could track and the Fragment lay at Rowenna's feet in a twisted heap.
Rowenna saw Harland even as her hair was taken in a vise grip that caused her scalp to shout with agonizing pins and needles of fire.
Then he was upon the Fragment, twisting his head nearly off his neck and Rowenna dropped in an ungraceful heap on the sharp grass.
Two more Fragment came behind Harland and her eyes widened even as the hair on the nape of his neck rose at their approach and he turned, his fist connecting with the jaw of the first and his dagger piercing the Adam's apple of the second.
“Stay here for the love of all that is true,” Harland said, his sea-colored eyes dancing with dangerous sparks. His anger at her, his alarm for her, buried in the depths as he gave a second's more of that burning stare then joined Rolland in cutting up the Fragment like the dogs they were.
That was not entirely accurate, for dog was too loyal a name for the likes of them.
Two pairs of very angry eyes met hers, one ebony and the other the color of the sea when angered. Rowenna stood on shaky feet and Rolland gave a brief nod to Harland. “What say you?”
Harland wiped a grimy hand over his brow. “I be the new sentry for the clan.”
Rowenna gave him a sharp look at the news but he ignored her.
Rolland grinned despite his anger at Rowenna. “Most excellent, it is time the clan elders took note of the blood of the Band that you hold within you.”
Rolland glared at a stubborn Rowenna. “It was most fortunate that we were so near the clan.” His words were spoken to Harland, however, they were all for Rowenna.
“I helped!” she cried, looking between the two.
Rolland shook his head. “You crippled me with your presence. Do ye not know? That the Band are in place to protect females first?” He put his mighty hands on his hips, the dagger, slick with blood, stuck out like an angry spear at his side.
Rowenna looked down at her feet.
Harland gave a short laugh that brought her head back up. “Did you see how she massacred the first?” Rolland gave a brief but tight smile at that. “She is fierce for a female.”
Rowenna smiled at Harland but it turned to a frown when he sided with Rolland. “You be Band, more importantly, you are female Rowenna,” he said in soft reprimand.
She narrowed her gaze on Harland. Yes, he certainly was aware she was female.
Rowenna stalked away to the clan, weaving in between the bodies of the Fragment, thinking about how insufferable all males were.
The males discussed her. However, they discussed the alarming proximity of the Fragment at greater length as they made their slow and cautious way back to the clan, following in the angry footsteps of Rowenna.
For where there were some Fragment there would surely be more.
Chapter 6
one week hence
Rolland partook in a raid and it was Harland who accompanied Rowenna for her scheduled second tryst with the prince of the sphere. Rowenna was not anxious as she was at the last meeting, yet looking at Harland in profile, his dark hair and light eyes a startling contrast in the gloom of the wooded border, she could hear his hurt from the very silence that enclosed the pair.
It hurt Harland that she would mate with Rolland. It hurt for him to know that she was being whored for the viability of their future with a sphere-dweller. For it mattered not that he would be a King a few weeks hence. He would ultimately come to her as stranger and the babe they made would then be given up as sacrifice. Rowenna struggled inside herself to not give in to the grief and resentment that ate at the edges of her brain without mercy. Instead, she focused on the quiet male presence who walked by her side, ignoring his own pain to protect her.
They came to the tear in the center of the field, the leaves appeared to burn a circle around the open meadow with the first breath of autumn. Even the insects were silent in the glade, so unnatural was the Pathway's presence.
Harland closed his hand over her sh
oulder, laying a kiss at the sensitive break of her neck to shoulder and she leaned against him. Rowenna tried to not think of Rolland, her obligation to her clan... the forbidden love she felt for the half-blood Band who warmed her flesh as she stood there waiting to be with another.
Then Prince Raymond was there like the first star in the night's sky, blinking into existence with a pale gleaming of opalescent light. He looked almost as he had looked upon his first visit.
They walked out to meet him and Rowenna saw his curiosity though he be many horse lengths from their location.
Prince Raymond watched as Rowenna, her hair in a thick single plait , approached with a huge male. Instantly, Raymond sensed he was Savage, of course. It was the underlying things that would go unnoticed by some that gave him pause. For Raymond had been schooled on the subtleties of humanity from a young age. He used that knowledge now, for it was almost an automatic thing, to see what was before him.
It was a disquieting insight. There be an intimacy about the two as they walked together that had been absent from her intended. Raymond's eyes flicked to the heavily muscled warrior's throat.
The flesh therein lay absent of gills. Curious, Raymond thought.
They stood before him and aside from the sheer size of the brute, he had the most unusual shade of eyes. They appeared very like the shallow waters of the oyster fields of the great lakes. At summer's height when the sun beat through the opaque walls of the sphere, the sand lay like sugar beneath the azure waters. His eyes were striking.
They were also angry.
Not this again, Raymond thought, dismayed anew. His belly rolled inside him in a slick heated wave. Yet, he seemed to be better accustomed to the wretched travel that was the Pathway.
The male's gaze traveled Raymond with slow assessment and Raymond met that uncompromising stare head-on. He knew what he was about, if the male presumed to speculate and do so inaccurately, that was not the fault of Raymond. His motives were beyond reproach.
The SAVAGE Series, Books 1-3: The Pearl Savage, The Savage Blood and The Savage Principle Page 60
