Read The Pearl Savage for Free Online Page B

satin waistcoat, quite lovely,
appeared in her watery field of vision. Then vanished as Charles sat
beside her, “Dearest Clara,” Charles began, placing a light hand
at the base of her neck, wrapping it with long fingers which circled
almost to the front of her throat. Such strength in that large hand,
but what tenderness as he held her neck in the palm of his grip.
    He pushed her head under his chin,
his hand still holding her neck and the sobs came. Great, silent,
hiccuping wails held quiet by habit, she could not get Frederic’s
wretched face out of her mind’s eye. His smug patience, knowing it
was a matter of time… a matter of when , not if.
    She
would not be powerless . Her father’s teachings had not
fallen on deaf ears. She had not built his empire to let it fall into
governance by a Prince drunk not with wine, but with power. Charles
whispered sweet endearments into ears stung by the night. A night
that had been less celebration, and more survival.
    “I cannot protect you… but
somehow I must. He is
dangerous. I fear he will hurt you.” Charles said, running his
thumb up and down her throat.
    “Charles is correct. He is not a
real Prince of his people, my lady. He wishes to marry for power, for
the pearls. He wishes to be drunk like the Queen,” Olive lowered
her voice to a whisper, tucking her voluminous skirts under her knees
as she knelt before Clara, “but not by wine… by greed.”
    She was so right, dear Olive was
absolutely right. They knew what was happening but what to do with
that knowledge?
    “Refuse the crown,” Charles said
suddenly.
    Clara wiped her eyes and sat up
straighter looking at Charles, “Whatever do you mean?”
    Charles had a stroke of insight and
waved her lack of understanding away, “Queen Ada commanded you would not be Queen if you refused this arranged marriage,
yes?”
    Clara nodded, that had been so.
    “Then refuse the crown. You do not
care for all this.” He gestured around the room with its
extravagant appointments, every surface velvet, satin or silk.
Precious metals gleaming like small anchors randomly in a room
holding every manner of implements and comforts.
    That was true. Her richest treasures
were with her now, breathing the air that she did. She looked at
Olive and Charles, knowing what she would say next would upset them,
“I do have that choice. However,” Clara swallowed, this was most
difficult, “ I am royal. It
is more than a hollow allowance, I am the caretaker of my people, my
subjects. If I am not Princess Clara for them, they will be left to
the devices of the Queen. That, I cannot abide.”
    “Clara,” Charles moaned in
defeat, “think on it, do not martyr yourself for us. What good can
you do as Princess to his Prince… if he means your death?”
    Olive sucked in her breath, for
Charles had said their fear out loud. It would be easy for something
to befall Clara, with Prince Frederic the ruler of both spheres. The
failing Kingdom of Kentucky and her own. Her head ached with the
potential for it all.
    Her gaze suddenly wandered to the
sphere wall and she thought of the savage she had seen
Outside. How she longed for help for a new way, a way to save her
people from the hardship of this forced union.
    Charles stood, and clasped their
hands, Olive rested her head upon Clara’s shoulder, “Let me think
on it. There must be another way.”
    Charles leaned forward, releasing
her hands and putting one on each side of Clara’s face, palming the
entirety of it, and placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
    “Are you hurt?”
    “Nothing I cannot bear and bring
to wellness in a fore-night or two.”
    “The Queen,” he hissed.
    She nodded. He closed his eyes and
finally… Charles pulled away, his forehead breaking contact with
Clara’s.
    He began to walk to the door then
stopped, turning, he pulled something out of his pocket. A small,
velvet bag in deepest blue, cinched with an icy blue ribbon, he
walked back over and placed it inside