The Pearl Savage by Tamara Rose Blodgett Read Free Book Online

Clara’s palm, “This is what I
meant to do when I came upon… when I came upon… the
circumstance.”
    Clara nodded, it was difficult
to describe.
    She slipped the ribbon open, its
gauzy weight as light as a feather atop a pen, and scooped out a
chain of precious silver. At its end hung a large, single pearl, held
in a spider web gallery; complicated filigree surrounded it like an
embrace.
    Clara’s head jerked up and she
looked into Charles dark eyes, “A Samuel Pearl,” she breathed out
in reverence. The rarity was beyond compare. In her water sphere
fields, there was a tiny field for raising the rare, Samuel’s Pearls.
They were named for her grandfather’s grand-sire, a man who had never
set foot in the sphere, but perished in the Outside, in the time when
the earth was covered in ash.
    Charles’ beautiful smile broke
across his face like the sun of the Outside breaking free of clouds,
“I knew you would love it.”
    “I love it because of who gave
it,” returning his smile with one of her own.
    Charles ducked his head, pleased,
“Let me place it about your neck.” She turned and he laid her
heavy hair aside, securing the clasp behind her neck, rearranging the
tousled hair over it.
    “Oh, Princess, it is so beautiful
against the creaminess of your skin, you must address the looking
glass.”
    None of them said anything about the
bruises; the Queen’s careless abuse in evidence.
    Clara gazed into the looking glance,
staring at the large pearl, the size of her pinky nail, a deep ebony,
shining with metallic green iridescence. The luster encompassed the
sea gem where it glowed softly at the hollow of her throat. Olive and
Charles stood behind her. Clara noticed her disheveled hair, tendrils
of deepest bronze escaping and suddenly felt older than her ten and
seven years.
    Clara watched Charles stroke a thumb
over the grape-sized bruise at the side of her throat, his expression
sad. It said, how much longer could she bear the mistreatment… could he ?
    Charles gave her a gentle squeeze on
her shoulders, his big, warm hands a momentary comfort, then he
released her.
    “I must go,” he glanced at the
hanging time piece, one half hour until midnight struck.
    Charles leaned forward and pressed a
kiss to her forehead, “Happy Day of Birth, dearest Clara.”
    He straightened, a strange
expression coming over his face, then he seemed to shake cobwebs away
and saying a final good night, he left her chamber.
    Olive had followed him and shut the
massive door, engaging the huge brass bolt. She turned around,
leaning against the door, her relief a palpable thing.
    Clara watched Olive walk toward her,
“He loves you, Princess.”
    She loved him too… but she was not in love with him, he was her
dear friend. Clara sighed, “I do not know for a certainty that he
loves me any differently than I do him. We have been friends since
grammar school,” she shrugged the idea away.
    “No, it is different. He watches
you as the sun orbits the earth, it is total.”
    Olive’s words were disturbing. Clara
did not wish to mean that much to anyone.
    “You have not encouraged his
affections, but they exist, my lady.”
    Clara said nothing, instead, moving
toward the bedpost she twined nimble fingers around the part which
narrowed. Her eyes following Olive as she moved to close the heavy
drapes that stood open to the blackness of the Outside. They lay
slightly damp against the veil of the sphere wall, the steam from the
day clinging tenaciously to the fabric, adding weight. Olive used
both hands to pull the two sides of the curtain together, the wooden
rings sliding over the rod seamlessly but slowly, hindered by the
heaviness. Finally, they were closed and Olive moved up behind Clara.
Olive began at the top stay, releasing it carefully. With the first
stay undone, it was usually a matter of synchronicity with the
rest… however, release the first in haste, and each stay needed
hand release, a bother at the very least. Clara