8. Clara
8
CLARA
T he prince had touched her, and she did not see his future. She never touched others. Not a hug or handshake without gloves or unless cloth separated them. But he had held her in his arms, touched her back, and even took her hand. She heard silence. Saw nothing.
Her heart twitched.
Was this what it felt like to be normal?
The book on mates was interesting, but it was never her focus. Instead of reading words, her gaze would stop on her hand. Flexing it and closing it, trying to keep the warmth trapped in her palm. Drakonis’s palm had been dry and warm, unlike any she had ever touched. Was that how all dragons were? Instead of soft skin, his was rough, especially along the scales in his wrist and fingers.
Fear of the future made her a pariah. If anyone so much as grazed her cheek or touched her hand, she would see either a good or bad future. Schooling her emotions became paramount when her tears would make people avoid her, and a smile would make others harass her; drilling her for every detail. No one truly wanted to know the future.
At least she believed that until Axel had destroyed their home. Xenakians were grateful they could remain in Oceanus, but they always blamed her for not stopping what she could see. In the aftermath, she had checked on survivors, making sure they had good food and shelter. They hardly said a word, and she could hear every whisper spoke behind her back.
She could not blame them. As much as she adored her sister’s kindness, her pain would have subsided with time.
“M’ lady!” She turned her head at her next visitor. Duke Alastair Doukas came in, as charming as before.
“Lord Doukas.” Clara curtsied. He immediately asked her to stand.
“We’ve gone over this m’lady. You are a princess, and thus higher rank. There is no reason to bow to me.”
She nodded, smiling. This man reminded her so much of her youngest brother Caius. His presence was just as bright as the sun, and his energy was addicting. “What can I do for you today?”
“I figured ya had been locked in here too long. Even if ya have an important mission, it is important to take breaks occasionally. Gavril would have m’head if I were to let you become ill.”
“Of course,” she said. “Where does one usually take breaks at?”
“There’s another gard’n I think ya will like. Come.” As if she were his friend, Alastair grabbed her hand, pulling her to the double doors. There was a hum, but nothing shot out at her like Gavril. But it wasn’t silence like Drakonis. What could make the difference?
Clara lifted her skirts to keep up with his long strides. “Ya like flowers right? Our empress took a shine to some kind of rose. The emperor had walls built of them just to see her smile.”
It was a romantic story. Her father had done grand gestures for her mother when he could. And King Nordskov did similar grand gestures for Elisora. A reminder that there was goodness and love in the world.
“He must love her deeply.”
Alastair shrugged. When they exited the palace, his strides slowed. With a hand to hers, he pointed in the distance. His words became mute. The color of the world became sepia. Flashes of blood and fire came to mind. Her forehead burned. She saw snake women in armor, and Alastair letting out a battle cry.
She pulled her hand away. Why was the vision so delayed? Her third eye thrummed, and she could feel her skin separating. Clara bowed her head, touching the heel of her palm over the center of her forehead. This was not the place. Having a vision, and exposing her third eye, in a public place like this would be the worst thing she could do.
“Is everything alright m’lady?” Alastair asked.
“Yes.” She moved her hand to his elbow. Touching clothes held her visions at bay. “I’m eager to see those flowers you spoke of,” she forced out.
Were Gavril’s death and this war scene related?
Alastair became reinvigorated. He was a wild gentleman in the way he guided her.
Women wearing fine cotton dresses dyed in bright colors followed her and Alastair’s movements. All the dresses were formfitting in the chest and hips but were like grand works of art in the sleeves and skirt. Gems hung off every neck and ear and sat on most of the ladies’ fingers. Ouroboros was all about wealth, and to them she was an outsider, and beneath them even if she was a princess.
They whispered behind their fans to their companions about her and Alastair. At least, that is what she believed since their eyes followed their every move. Alastair did not seem to mind as he continued to speak, but all Clara felt was the same shame from the Xenakians when she tried to help them adjust.
“Tha’ queen had only mentioned that she heard about silver roses. Said they were supposed to be a physical manifestation of Zeus’s rain. Gavril searched all over the continent, talked to every alchemist and magician, to find them. As soon as he found seeds, he went to work. Sounds like a lotta work, but the king arranged it days after she spoke the words.”
The story piqued her interest. “So, it was not the emperor that gifted them to her, but Lord Gavril?”
“Gavril would not have done it without tha emperor’s orders.”
In her vision, the empress was distraught over Gavril death. And, while Gavril seemed loyal, was it just on order he would put so much work in giving the empress flowers? She wanted to ask further, but to do so would be a potential scandal. Unless Gavril, or the empress, were to explicitly speak of an affair, it could never be a thought.
“Yes, my mother is adored by all those that meet her.”
Alastair and Clara looked over their shoulders. Kazimir stood as elegant as the day she first saw him. His smile was careful, yet bright. Brilliant chandeliers, that were as bright as the sun, dangled from both his ears with gem cuffs clamped over the pointed tips. His yellow and orange silk robes elegantly wrapped around his body, a deep V showing his smooth, well-manicured chest, and jeweled pendant of a dragon.
“Your highness,” Clara said. Falling into a curtsy. Alastair did not acknowledge him verbally but bowed at the waist.
“It’s a surprise to see you, Lady Oracle. Or may I call you Clara?”
Alastair’s hand moved to her lower back, keeping pressure. If he did not move, neither will she. She dug deep in her memory, remembering how her sister dealt with diplomats.
“I am honored that you could give me even the smallest glance, your highness. If I am in the way, I will be happy to have Lord Alastair escort me somewhere else.” She emphasized Alastair’s name. Who knew what Drakonis would say after just warning her earlier in the day that she could go nowhere without an escort.
“You are charming. Quite fitting for a princess.” She saw Kazimir’s pointed shoes before feeling his finger at her chin. Her heart hammered, and the world became red.
Without trying to be obvious, she hovered her chin from his finger. This was the prince that Romanus and King Nordskov had warned her about. This was the one dragon in the castle that she could not show weakness to. He looked at her with a tilt of his head.
“Forgive me,” Clara hastily said. “I have never been touched by one such as grand. I merely had to gain my bearings.”
The ego soothing got her a reaction. She heard a snort from a still bowing Alastair. Kazimir reached for a lock of her hair, kissing the ends.
“I never expected such sweet words from one who associates with gargoyles. Come. I would love to take a walk with you. It is rare we get such delightful visitors.”
Alastair’s hand became warmer against her back. A warning. “I would love to, your highness, but Lord Alastair has made time in his busy schedule for me. I would hate to be rude.”
“Nonsense. He is but a soldier and a duke.” Clara heard Alastair growl. His eyes were narrow, and his deep blue scales raised. “Now come.” The pressure left her back. She interpreted it as Alastair’s permission. Maybe it would be fine. After all, he could do nothing to her in a public place right?
Kazimir reached his hand towards her. She touched his sleeve and took the arm that he offered. A humming tension flared against her forehead. May the gods bless her and either have Drakonis or Gavril rescue her.
Drakonis was going to lecture her for who knows how long.
But what else could she do? She could not reject Kazimir.
“I do hope you are adjusting well. I assume the furnishings meet your approval?” Kazimir questioned. Guards stiffened and women looked upon her with jealousy as they walked down the white stone path. The flower walls grew taller, full of beautiful colors, and more intricate the longer they did so.
“It is more than what I could have asked for. The royal family has been quite generous.”
“That is good to hear. I’m glad your opinion is so positive considering the circumstances.”
“The circumstances your highness?”
“I heard Valen was quite rude to you upon your arrival.” Drakonis must have brought it up. Valen was suspicious, but as a good nobleman is, he never was obvious in his true intent. “I can have him punished in any way you deem acceptable,” Kazimir added. “Merely say the word and his head is yours.”
Clara kept her voice as steady as she could. “That is all right your highness. I’m sure Lord Valen had nothing but good intentions. I did not realize that such problems occurred because of me.”
“Such a humble girl you are.”
Kazimir pulled her to a magnificent sculpture; a grand dragon, with his body in loops, sat on a column with crystal water coming from its mouth and claws.
“Tell me. What did your sister say when you told her you were coming here? As a gargoyle’s wife she must be disgusted.”
“Not at all your highness. Elisora and I come from a land that was inhabited by many. We are not ones to judge based on blood or species.”
“A Utopian idea.” Clara could hear the disgust in his voice and felt the way he was prying.
“She was quite envious that I would see a land as beautifully vast as this.” She could only speak truths, but there were times she could manipulate her words into sarcasm. Elisora was not envious of her mission, but she was about all the plants and herbs she would not get to take. The one thing everyone on the continent knew, was that Ouroboros had the finest forests and unique flowers.
Her honeyed words seemed to influence Kazimir. “You must exercise caution, my lady.” Kazimir turned his body taking her small hands. “If you keep saying such charming things, you might make me fall in love with you.”
Clara forced a smile. The prince became red once more as a vision hummed inside of her. She saw Gavril once more falling and choking on…something. She tried to focus on what it was, but Kazimir tugged on her hands before she could figure it out. He was becoming so close; she could smell the flowery perfume of his skin. Wriggling her body away, she skipped to a piece of shrubbery, pretending to be fascinated by the flowers that were embedded into it.
“My apologies your highness. This just looks too beautiful to be real.” She felt his eyes upon her but did not meet his gaze. She pretended to touch the delicate petals of the pink flower she saw while glancing around looking for anyone that she knew she could at least use to get away from here.
“What else could I feel but pride at your approval of our nation’s beauty?” A pause. “When did you have your first vision about our homeland? Very few know about Phaedrus, and the true dragon story.”
Clara gulped. She could not reveal that it was because it intertwined with gargoyles, and her sister’s, history. If she told anyone that, it could only be Gavril or Drakonis.
“Phaedrus came to me in a vision. Some of what I saw was a blur, but I clearly saw him. He wore a unique golden crown I had never seen before, and robes of the finest material.”
“What did he say?” Kazimir asked.
“He asked me to find his Heir.” He spoke other things, but it was in a dialect that she could not understand. Words she could articulate but not understand.
“Are you looking for something in particular in the Heir?”
Kazimir’s smile was back as he drew her eyes.
“I am only looking for signs that Phaedrus has left behind, your highness. He chooses the Heir. I am here to awaken the one who has already been chosen.” Gold bangles jingled as Kazimir crossed his arms. “The Moirai, the Fates, have already enacted what Phaedrus has desired. The gods show me many things, but I cannot change Fate.”
“I see.” Kazimir touched his chin. “So, if you can see Phaedrus in your dream then are you able to speak to him?” Clara shook her head. She could only hear his words. If she could ask questions, there would have been no reason to come to Ouroboros. Phaedrus was a demigod. And gods chose who and when to speak to mortals.
“Lady Clara!” Both she and Kazimir watched as Gavril appeared within the crowds. Alastair was at his side, smirking. It was like when a kid tattled and brought a parent. The childish acts were so strange in this environment. “I’m so glad I found you. You were almost late to your teatime with the Empress.”
“Mother is meeting with Clara?” Kazimir sounded skeptical. Clara masked her surprise. She had nothing in her schedule.
“As I am sure you are aware, young prince, it is rare we get visitors. Is it that much of a surprise that she would be so popular?” Gavril questioned.
There was a challenge in his eyes. Gavril had said he was but a servant to the crown, but it was clear he held some sway.
“I see,” Kazimir answered. “Well, she would not want to keep mother waiting.” Kazimir grabbed Clara’s hand, kissing the top of it. “It has been the highlight of my day to escort you, my lady. I hope you will join me for a dinner soon.”
Clara could do nothing but nod. Gavril snatched her away at the first moment he could. Both he and Alastair hid her with their bodies from any prying eyes.
“I must say, m’lady, you make life quite interesting around here,” Alastair said.
“I did not wish to. My apologies…”
“There is no need to apologize for such things,” Gavril interrupted. “I told Drakonis that you were not meant to be in such games, and he did not heed my warning.”
What games was he speaking of? Had something happened?
“Please do not put any blame on Prince Drakonis. He does what he can to have me protected. I will stay in the library, or my room, unless instructed.”
Gavril stopped, turning on his heel. “You are a princess, and a guest at our palace. You needn’t isolate yourself. Yes, there are dangers, but it is our duty as men of the royal family to protect you. Please do what you wish.”
“He’s right m’lady,” Alastair added. He put his hand on her clothed shoulder. “Ya came here for a noble purpose. Don’t worry about anything else except completing what you came here to do.”
Warmth blossomed in her chest as she looked to the two men.
“Lord Gavril?”
“Yes, m’lady?” he answered.
“I do not really have tea with the Empress, do I?”
Gavril touched the top of her head, laughing. The deep lines n his face seemed to disappear and the red at the tips of eyes and mouth gleamed. He looked younger.
“No m’lady. And I appreciate you did not question me.”
“I was happy you came for me.” Her smile was small, but it was the first one she had in a long time.
“Although, if you wish to meet the Empress, it will most honor me to make it happen.” Gavril added.
Clara lifted her hands up. “Oh, please don’t burden yourself. I know the Empress must have much to do, as do I. I will be happy to have tea if the opportunity arises, but I must be diligent in my work.”
The way Gavril ruffled her hair reminded her of her father. It was such a slight gesture but one that meant so much.
“I recently got some sweets from a bakery in town. M’lady have ya ever heard of baklava?” Alastair asked. She shook her head. On the way back to the library, she held back a sad smile while Alastair put his arm around her, and Gavril reprimanded him. These were rare bonds, stronger than blood ties. While it warmed her heart, it saddened her knowing it would end soon.