She entered with steam-pressed clothing draped over her arm, scads of material in a rich turquoise. Clara hated it, hated it all.
“Princess,” inclining her head.
Clara recognized she was penalizing Olive unfairly. Who truly wished to celebrate her Day of Birth? Utter nonsense.
Olive peered at her Princess from under her lashes, she was a formidable young lady, aquamarine eyes which flashed with energetic temper, deep mahogany hair that cascaded to her waist, very handsome but...uncooperative when it came to dressings.
“Please Princess, they await your appearance this day.”
“Does my mother await?” Clara asked.
Olive knew that the Queen was deep in her cup and it was not yet midday. “Our Queen has begun her own celebration.”
No surprise to Clara, deep in spirits, celebration or no.
Her people wished to see her adorned in her finery (a loathsome pursuit) to be reminded that she was their Princess, the one that saw to their happiness, where her mother, the Queen, failed them at every turn.
Olive interrupted her internal musings, “My lady, please employ the bedpost.”
Grabbing the stays that bound the corset, pulling each cross-member, Olive took up the slack, when reaching the end, she pulled with all her might, Clara gasped, “Must it be so tight, I cannot breath properly.”
“It must be hand-span,” as the last stay was tightened to faint-worthiness.
Finally, Olive bent to use the shoe hook on Clara's high heels, each button a luminescent mother-of-pearl.
Clara took in the altered version of herself, the one that did not roam any space in her head. “Do you not think you are agreeable, mistress?”
Clara gazed at her image, creamy expanses of pale skin met the weak light from the sphere window climbing up to a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and strange-colored blue eyes, a dark fall of hair that was red in a certain light, brushed her hips where they swelled. Her mother would be pleased, she supposed. But Clara wanted to change into her waistcoat and linen skirt she wore when she visited the oyster fields.
She turned to Olive. “I look comely enough to satisfy the Queen.”
“And Prince Frederick,” Olive added.
Yes, she must not forget her upcoming nuptials to the Prince. The thought brought a searing tide of resentment, coiling in her breastbone painfully.
Clara sat at the vanity while Olive began weaving the pearls into her hair, a rainbow of shimmering colors began to wink and disappear in the plaiting. “Do you wish to wear it all at the,” she indicated the back of Clara's head, “your highness?”
She wished to not attend her Day of Birth celebration.
“No, Olive, just the forward section... leave the remainder down.”
She swept the forward part of Clara's hair off her face in an elaborate coil, twining at the top, back of her head, the pearls the size of a pinky nail, weaving around it like a crown. Then arranged and rearranged Clara's hair until she was satisfied.
“There. That will do,” she said with satisfaction.
Clara stared at her reflection, voluminous eyes gazed back, huge in her small face with part of the rich, deep red hair piled on top, the pearls shimmering in the low light.
She stood, giving Olive a gracious nod. “You are most clever with your ministrations.”
Olive gave Clara a deep curtsey, which she bore as she did her other royal obligations.
Clara procrastinated, wandering over to her window again, pressing her face almost to the sphere barrier, its soft but impenetrable surface her prison.
“Princess?”
“Yes, Olive,” Clara said without turning.
“I implore you, do not stand so often or close to the window. You have heard the reports of savages, have you not?”
Yes, she had. Again Clara thought of how she longed to explore, seeing for herself what lay beyond her world, the Kingdom of Ohio.
“Yes, I have heard and it aggrieves me mightily. If some have survived the bounds of this place,” Clara stretched out her hand to encompass the sphere, “who are we to feel disinclination? Should we not welcome others?”
“It is not safe, my Princess.”
“And who has such musings?”
“The Record Keeper, my lady.”
Clara's full lips thinned into a line of distaste. She detested the idea that one individual held the history and direction of so many.
“Please... make my excuses for another half hour hence.”
Olive hesitated, thinking of the Queen's displeasure. “Yes, Princess.”
Clara turned her face, Olive catching sight of it in profile, “You are not to be blamed, tell the Queen that I was obstinate, as is typical.” Clara's mouth curved into a smile, it pleased her that Queen Ada would suffer irritation and keep the dreadful Prince Frederick waiting. A bigger pompous ass the spheres had never seen.
Clara turned to face Outside again, Olive slipping out the door and closing it quietly behind her. A tension slipped out of Clara's shoulders, relieved to own another moment of time before the abhorrent celebration began.
She stood for time uncertain, watching the wind (as she was told that was what it was), caressing the Forest of Trees Outside. As she turned away, her duty before her, she saw movement, whirling around she pressed her face to the sphere's interior, her nose pushing in the softness as goose down. Outside her window, a great male stood, trees flanking his body, partially covered by branches. On his face lay a fierceness. Arrows were slung over a shoulder corded with muscle, a bow in one hand, and strange clothing covering only part of his body, a shocking expanse of skin showing, immodestly so.
He was fascinating and most assuredly... a savage.
Without warning he flew out of the stand of trees that Clara had been admiring since her childhood, rushing straight for the window she leaned against. Clara clenched her teeth, holding her position, knowing that the sphere was impenetrable but stale fear flooded her mouth as she stood watching the huge male advance at an incredible speed. Clara's heart thumped painfully in her chest and when a hair's breadth remained between the sphere and Clara... he stopped.
*
Bracus looked at the female behind the sphere that the Evil Ones had constructed in his grandfather's grandfather's time, her image obscure. He had watched the female for months and had seen her in strange clothing while supervising workers in the fields of sea creatures that yielded shimmering jewels.
He also knew she was beautiful and... he wanted her.
She was unlike any of the females he had seen, which were rare in his clan. A female was highly prized and safeguarded. His eyes caressed her face, the skin like cream from the cow, her eyes like the sea near his cousin's clan...hair the color of fire burnt down to embers. Bracus looked around warily; knowing he must leave, he was too exposed without the trees at his back. He gave a last look at the female, her expression indecipherable, already he felt vulnerable that he had revealed himself after his careful months of hiding. Turning, he ground up the hill toward the stand of trees, his long and powerful strides eating up the ground ahead of him. Reaching the forest he looked back at the window where the female watched him, then he turned, disappearing into the stand and made his way back to the clan.
Clara released the breath she had been holding, letting it out in a rush. Light-headed, she sat upon the fainting couch and put her head between her knees. Between the strange episode with the savage and the absurd corset, she could not regain her breath. This is how Olive came upon her when she returned to escort her to the celebration. How could that hold a candle's excitement to what had just transpired Outside?
Olive rushed to her. “Princess, what ails you?”
Although not her favorite transgression it was effective and she lied smoothly to Olive, “I think the stays may need loosening.”
“Oh! For the love of the Guardian! Please... forgive me.” Olive rushed around to loosen the stays but Clara knew that would just lengthen th
e horror of the event and incur additional wrath from the Queen.
“Never mind, it matters not, Olive... hand-span it shall be.”
“As you wish, Princess.”
As she began walking to the doorway, she turned, giving one look back to the window, where the savage had looked at her so intimately. He had been so alive... vital. She knew one thing she had seen would distract her during the entire celebration.
The savage had gills.
Turning away from the window, Clara made her way to the door, swinging it open to the hallway which led to the Gathering Room, a place of joy. But not for her... not today.
#
THE PEARL SAVAGE and books 1-4 available now~ Book #5 coming February 2014!
A Love Letter to My Readers:
As of March 30, 2011, it's been almost three years now since my first book, Death Whispers, was published. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you that has supported my writing. Without my readers, I would not have an audience for my work. Many of your emails, support via recommendation, encouragement and critical feedback/reviews have allowed my improvement as a writer and as a human being. Words are an inadequate thanks for the depth of my gratitude to you. Please know how much your support has meant, and will continue to mean in the future to come.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
*
Update, January 2014:
Thank you for reading Blood!
If you just read and dug the Blood Bundle, I appreciate you telling your friends and family about my work; it's the most compelling testimony an author can hope to have- more readers!
If you want to take the love a step further, consider following/liking me at the following sites to show your support:
FB fan page
Blog
Twitter
“Like” me on my Amazon Author Page
Goodreads
And of course, posting a review is the ultimate plug for my work! I greatly appreciate your time in both reading and reviewing my work(s)! Thank you so much,
Tamara xo
Acknowledgments:
You- my reader.
Danny
Cameren, without whom, there would be no books.
Angie
Beth Dean Hoover
Dii
Lori
Shana, from A Book Vacation
Tamara Rose Blodgett books available now:
DEATH:
DEATH WHISPERS
DEATH SPEAKS
DEATH INCEPTION
DEATH SCREAMS
DEATH WEEPS
DEATH UNREQUITED
Death Bundle, Books 1-3
BLOOD:
BLOOD SINGERS
BLOOD SONG
BLOOD CHOSEN
Blood Bundle, Books 1&2
SAVAGE:
THE PEARL SAVAGE
THE SAVAGE BLOOD
THE SAVAGE PRINCIPLE
THE SAVAGE VENGEANCE
*THE SAVAGE PROTECTOR
Savage Bundle, Books 1-3
Future Titles 2014:
The Reflective (Reflection Series, #1)- March 28
Blood Reign (Blood, #4)- May 30
Death Trilogy spin-off (#1)- Labor Day
Savage (#6)- Christmas
*coming February 2014
If you're over 18, Check out my erotic romance books written under my pen name, Marata Eros
The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance) Page 53
