The Pearl Savage (38 page)

The announcer (the same bumbling
fellow who announced at her Day of Birth Celebration but miraculously
more graceful) declared to the kingdom:

“Let it be known that Queen Clara
Williamson, high monarch of the Kingdom of Ohio, has signed a Treaty
of Peace and Alliance with the Clan of Ohio from this day onward.”

He stepped back and Clara gave him a
small nod of acknowledgment and he smiled back. His voice had rung
true and proud and she was pleased.

Charles came up beside her and gave
her a gaze so full that she had to look away as tears threatened.
Clara would have never foreseen these circumstances coming to pass
and she ruthlessly collected herself so she could address her People;
her emotions a shimmering thing that undulated right underneath her
tightly held composure.

“Thank you all for being so
gracious during this enormous transition of leadership.” There was
a smattering of applause and Clara held up her hand to quiet it. “I
would like to thank my adviser, Sir Charles Pierce, for his diligent
service to the crown and my loyal guard, who defended the injury to
our sphere until we could manage a portal that would safeguard us
properly once more.”

She looked out over her people with
shining eyes, and continued, “And for all of you that have shown
and told me how much you enjoy this change of leadership and swore
your undying loyalty, I thank you as well.”

Clara stepped back, taking a deep
cleansing breath of the steamy sphere air, relishing its familiarity.

“Let us begin our celebration,”
she announced.

The people broke apart, mingling and
taking food from the large banquet tables, loud and raucous. Clara
smiled, they were relaxed and happy, their new ruler someone they
followed out of respect, not fear.

Charles was animatedly speaking with
Sarah and everyone seemed to be deep in cup, food or conversation.
Clara found her eyes seeking the man she could not stop thinking
about.

There he was, his gaze already
locked upon her.

Matthew saw Clara’s eyes find his
and his body moved of its own volition, the need to be near her
burning from the inside out. It had been three long weeks of
explaining and regaining trust and he had been kept from her. Now,
finally, they could see each other.

Clara
met him halfway, the throne a backdrop behind them, her gaze went to
the gills on his neck and she belatedly realized that when he was
excited they would fully open,
as
they did now. The stripes of pink flesh decorated a neck the size
of one of the small timbers Outside.

Her
legs weakened as he got closer, then he was suddenly
there,
right in front of her. When he took her elbow, she could feel his
fingers like brands of fire, running from the point of contact and
radiating throughout her body, as warm heat spread.

His
nostrils flared as he looked at her mouth and she knew,
knew,
that
he wished to put his upon her lips. But propriety swirled around them
and as they looked at each other, President Bowen appeared.

He cleared his throat and Clara felt
Matthew’s fingers slide down her forearm, then fall away and it felt
like a loss.

They turned and faced him.

He looked at them both and indicated
they talk in a far corner of the Gathering Room. Clara saw Charles
watch her, his face darkening.

He
was all for the treaty but did not like her role amongst the
savages
…
clan, she corrected herself.

She knew, as Sarah and Olive had
both said, that Charles’ feelings went beyond friendship. It was
causing a strain this past month. A strain upon a friendship that had
once been easy.

Bowen turned, taking her arm and
Matthew tensed. She sensed he did not like anyone touching her, any
male.

She came back to what Bowen had been
saying reluctantly, distracted this near Matthew.

She interrupted him, “I apologize,
President Bowen, I missed that first part…”

“Arthur, please, Clara.”

She nodded.

“As I was saying, now that the
signing of the treaty is behind us, how do you propose to introduce
the delicacies of …” and he raised his eyebrow.

She was unsure how to broach the
subject. Possibly, she could let it run its natural course. She said
as much, Matthew’s pulsating heat spilling into her.

He shook his head. “That may take
time. Perhaps there are women who would wish to live Outside, become
part of the community. Then they may find themselves amongst the men
of the clan. Visitation would not facilitate unions with any
expediency as compared to a change of residency.”

He was right, but how to say such
without the whole of the kingdom becoming squeamish about the basest
fact that the Clan was dying out because there were not enough
females? There was not an easy solution within the societal
constraints in which they lived.

“Unless….” Bowen trailed off.

Clara looked at him sharply, her
mind racing furiously to intuit his implication.

“What say you, President?”

“
Unless
their Queen was to mate with a
clan-dweller.
In that way, she would lead by example,” he said, his eyes hooded,
his expression cloaked in the shadows of the corner.

Matthew’s eyebrows lowered and his
hands became tight. “She cannot mate with just anyone, sir!” he
said fiercely, his face a mass of tight angles. Clara reached out and
he relaxed under her touch, his eyes softening.

“
I
did not say she was without choice. Obviously, it is entirely up to
the Queen, whom she would choose. She is a
select,
after all. That very thing predicates the choosing.”

They
fell silent, her strange
select
status a detail which needed much discussion.

“She needs to come to the clan,
stand before the Band and be tested. This is the only way,” Matthew
ground out.

President Bowen bowed his head, not
meeting Clara’s eyes.

“
Sir…
Arthur,
what is this he says?” she asked, giving them troubled eyes.

“
We
have not encountered a
select
in many years, before my time,” he paused, spreading his palms away
from his body. “It used to be these special females were meant only
for the Band and that whoever they responded to most, would then be
their chosen mate. It was not a matter of intellect, but rather,
biology.”

“I am understanding that you wish
for me to come to the Band, be ‘tested’ to see if I react to certain
males more than others? And if so, I should choose which to mate?”

They stood there silently and Clara
felt their discomfort.

“What?” she asked impatiently.

“If there is more than one male of
the Band that you respond to equally, they may decide to….”

“To fight for you,” Matthew
finished flatly for Bowen.

Clara
stood there, struggling with her emotions. Is what she felt for
Matthew some kind of odd chemistry? It was not real? She could
possibly go to the Band, and feel this
with
one of the others? It was a terrible potential.

Matthew’s anguished eyes told her
she was right.

But
she had her duty, always her duty. It was not
just
to the people of her sphere. She had given her word that she would do
all she could for the people of the clan as well.

Clara straightened. “When?”

President Bowen exhaled in a great
rush. “One day hence.”

Clara nodded, looking at Matthew,
what would this mean for them?

“Clara,” Bowen said her name.

She looked at him. “You understand
that Matthew’s standing amongst the Band has been compromised by your
taking…” he trailed off.

She looked at him. “Meaning?”

“That he will not be included in
the test.”

Her eyes met Matthew’s tortured gaze
and she could only stare.

“That is not acceptable,” she
all but yelled. “Did he not tell you of his…” she looked at
Matthew, not wanting to betray what she knew of him, “past
circumstances? Surely that gives him some allowance?” she finished,
placing her hands on her hips, her eyes on fire, the hair that
Matthew so admired flying about her hips. He looked at her with a
longing that shook her to her core. She would not desert him, wrest
his chance with her because the Band and their leader were trifling
about what had happened. She was fine, she was well, all was as it
should be.

Abuse free at last.

“If I do this, at least allow his
inclusion.” She gazed steadily at the President, their eyes meeting
for a pregnant pause.

“Very well, but on this
condition,” he said, looking at them both, “he shall be last.”
His words sat there in the moist air, both men blotting their faces
with linen cloths, neither acclimated to the humidity that was the
sphere.

Clara
deliberated. It was the best she could do and satisfy everyone. The
larger question remained: what would happen if another of the Band
made her feel the way she had with Matthew? What then? She happened
to raise her eyes and saw that Charles’ full attention was on her
small group of three and his eyes narrowed. She knew he would never
condone this. But for his own reasons
.

It
was an excellent political decision for the sphere. Her marriage to
their allies would solidify and progress the alliance. That had been
Queen Ada’s reasoning, even though flawed with Ada wishing Clara to
marry the sadist Prince. However, their friendship would suffer, and
that
she
valued, she
valued
it very much.

As he approached, a thousand
memories encroached and her spirit felt torn. He was her closest
friend, yet, his love for her crippled his objectivity. She had not
seen it before.

She did now.

“What is this, Clara?” Charles
asked, looking at the two men, his eyes settling on her.

“
We
were discussing my designation as a
select.
”

Charles’ gaze darkened. “What of
it?”

Clara
drew a deep breath. “They have a tradition amongst the
clan-dwellers
in
which if there is a
select
,
she is ‘tested’ with the males of the Band for the most beneficial
mating.”

A silence cloaked the moment so
thoroughly it felt as though the noise all around them was heard
through glass and rain, deafening and at the same time, silent.

He
kept staring and she stared back. It was when his face started to
gain high color that Clara became alarmed, but it was not she that he
directed his anger at it was
Matthew
.
He
was more than ready to respond, his emotions boiling beneath the
surface.

“You cannot leave her alone, can
you? What exactly did you do to her Outside, when no one was around
to defend her against you?” Charles said in a low and furious voice
which traveled better than she would have liked.

Matthew closed the distance between
them in two long strides. “I have not forced my hand or body
against her,
sphere-dweller
,” he said. Grabbing Charles by
the lapel, he dragged them almost nose-to-nose, which instantly
gained the attention of all the Band members and a few of Clara’s
subjects as well.

She came between them, struggling to
assert her body, dividing their anger physically.

“Stop this, both of you,” Clara
said. Turning in the tangle of their arms and facing Charles, her
back pressed against Matthew’s chest she stared at Charles. “Please,
do not do this, not now. Let us discuss this later, in private.”

Her
eyes dug into his, imploring him. Charles grappled, he was most
assuredly done with hiding his feelings, he no longer wished to
squelch what he felt for Clara, yet he did not wish to hurt her. He
was starting to calm down when the
savage
leaned down and took a deep breath of the crown of her head, smelling
her fragrant hair, which undid him utterly. Every intellectual
command he had just given himself was gone in a red haze of rage and
jealously.

He
launched himself around Clara, landing a grazing punch on the jaw of
the
savage,
who used one arm to twist Clara behind him, protecting her from him
.

Clara
couldn’t believe this was
the
Charles
she
had grown up with, this raging animal who came at Matthew, death
riding his eyes.

“Guards!” Clara screamed and
they came to their Queen’s command, grabbing Matthew.

“No!” she shrieked as Charles
landed another blow on Matthew, and he retaliated, snapping his arm
forward as quick as a snake, impacting Charles’ jaw as she watched
his head snap back and he staggered backward. But like an enraged
bull, he came at Matthew again, his bell rung but not stopped. Head
down he charged and Clara did the most stupidest thing she had ever
done in her life. She ran in front of Matthew, as if her fragility
was a shield that he needed.