that I
must rule one day. Queen Ada will step down so that I may, once
Prince Frederic and I are joined… rule this sphere.”
Charles’ fists clenched into balls
of anger. “You cannot mean that you wish this joining now. ”
Clara’s face looked pained while she
searched for a way of diplomacy when there was none. “I wish for a
proper betrothal, the length as originally negotiated upon. Not a
rushed affair.” Clara stared at King Otto, who looked away from the
naked accusation he saw there.
“You get what you wish,
daughter…to rule the people that are so precious to you, and I get
my grapes.” Ada threw up her hands triumphantly.
She knew very well how much of a
weakness (or Charles thought, a strength), Clara’s love of the People
was. She wished for their happiness and the greater happiness of the
sphere above all else.
They looked deeply into each other’s
eyes until Charles became aware of Prince Frederic in his peripheral
vision. He turned slightly to face him.
Instead of breaking their
interchange, Frederic came from behind Clara wrapping possessive arms
about her waist and hauling her up against himself, her fingers
falling away from Charles’ shoulders.
Clara’s breath caught at the
unexpectedness of the gesture and she automatically struggled against
the prison of his arms. Frederic laughed. “Have we not got over
this futile resistance, my Princess? So soon you forget how much you
will want, no… you will beg for my embrace.” Holding Clara against himself, he ran his free
hand down her neck, dangerously near impropriety as he approached the
bare upper skin of her bosom.
“Frederic!” King Otto
reprimanded. Finally, Clara thought, a voice of reason. The Queen
laughed at her discomfiture. Clara began to struggle in earnest. She
knew what she must do, but he would not embarrass her further, the
loathsome man!
Something deep and abiding in
Charles broke then, his hand, already balled into a hard fist, swung
backward of its own accord and he felt himself gain momentum as he
swung it directly into the smug face of the Prince. Instantly,
Frederic loosened his grasp on Clara, who ducked and like the smart
young woman she was, got out of the
way.
Charles surged forward as a bull
before a crimson flag, launching himself at the Prince, the violence
of his temper in utter control and the screaming voice of his
subconscious trying without success to halt him. But
stop he would not. The Prince attempted to shield himself from
the pummeling he was receiving but Charles’ fists had come alive in
their own power. They rained down upon him, unabated.
“Charles! Stop this!” Clara
screamed, afraid for him.
Vaguely Charles heard the Queen yell
for the guards and Charles felt himself unceremoniously lifted off
the prince, his royal blood decorating the floor, (giving Charles
momentary satisfaction), before he was strung up like a turkey, ropes
at his hands and ankles alike.
The Prince stood on feet which were
unsteady, strode directly to Clara and backhanded her in the face, a
move so completely unexpected that she fell against the wall from the
force of it.
The Queen’s guards moved forward,
leaving Charles in stupid surprise, completely unable to defend her.
As the guards approached Prince
Frederic, Ada said with quiet menace, “As you were.” She pointed
back at Charles and the guards hesitated. When she repeated what she
said the guards came back to where Charles lay with uneasy
expressions of surprise.
Ada turned to Clara. “Remember,
dear Clara, the other night when I mentioned that Prince Frederic
understood discipline?”
Clara, whose mouth lay open and
bleeding, could only nod. She used her hand, sliding it along the
wall to steady herself, standing.
“This altercation has the surest
signs of a lack of understanding, does it not?”
Clara was not sure of what was
coming but nodded in agreement. The Queen did not really wish an
answer, she wished an audience for her wisdom. Her
must rule one day. Queen Ada will step down so that I may, once
Prince Frederic and I are joined… rule this sphere.”
Charles’ fists clenched into balls
of anger. “You cannot mean that you wish this joining now. ”
Clara’s face looked pained while she
searched for a way of diplomacy when there was none. “I wish for a
proper betrothal, the length as originally negotiated upon. Not a
rushed affair.” Clara stared at King Otto, who looked away from the
naked accusation he saw there.
“You get what you wish,
daughter…to rule the people that are so precious to you, and I get
my grapes.” Ada threw up her hands triumphantly.
She knew very well how much of a
weakness (or Charles thought, a strength), Clara’s love of the People
was. She wished for their happiness and the greater happiness of the
sphere above all else.
They looked deeply into each other’s
eyes until Charles became aware of Prince Frederic in his peripheral
vision. He turned slightly to face him.
Instead of breaking their
interchange, Frederic came from behind Clara wrapping possessive arms
about her waist and hauling her up against himself, her fingers
falling away from Charles’ shoulders.
Clara’s breath caught at the
unexpectedness of the gesture and she automatically struggled against
the prison of his arms. Frederic laughed. “Have we not got over
this futile resistance, my Princess? So soon you forget how much you
will want, no… you will beg for my embrace.” Holding Clara against himself, he ran his free
hand down her neck, dangerously near impropriety as he approached the
bare upper skin of her bosom.
“Frederic!” King Otto
reprimanded. Finally, Clara thought, a voice of reason. The Queen
laughed at her discomfiture. Clara began to struggle in earnest. She
knew what she must do, but he would not embarrass her further, the
loathsome man!
Something deep and abiding in
Charles broke then, his hand, already balled into a hard fist, swung
backward of its own accord and he felt himself gain momentum as he
swung it directly into the smug face of the Prince. Instantly,
Frederic loosened his grasp on Clara, who ducked and like the smart
young woman she was, got out of the
way.
Charles surged forward as a bull
before a crimson flag, launching himself at the Prince, the violence
of his temper in utter control and the screaming voice of his
subconscious trying without success to halt him. But
stop he would not. The Prince attempted to shield himself from
the pummeling he was receiving but Charles’ fists had come alive in
their own power. They rained down upon him, unabated.
“Charles! Stop this!” Clara
screamed, afraid for him.
Vaguely Charles heard the Queen yell
for the guards and Charles felt himself unceremoniously lifted off
the prince, his royal blood decorating the floor, (giving Charles
momentary satisfaction), before he was strung up like a turkey, ropes
at his hands and ankles alike.
The Prince stood on feet which were
unsteady, strode directly to Clara and backhanded her in the face, a
move so completely unexpected that she fell against the wall from the
force of it.
The Queen’s guards moved forward,
leaving Charles in stupid surprise, completely unable to defend her.
As the guards approached Prince
Frederic, Ada said with quiet menace, “As you were.” She pointed
back at Charles and the guards hesitated. When she repeated what she
said the guards came back to where Charles lay with uneasy
expressions of surprise.
Ada turned to Clara. “Remember,
dear Clara, the other night when I mentioned that Prince Frederic
understood discipline?”
Clara, whose mouth lay open and
bleeding, could only nod. She used her hand, sliding it along the
wall to steady herself, standing.
“This altercation has the surest
signs of a lack of understanding, does it not?”
Clara was not sure of what was
coming but nodded in agreement. The Queen did not really wish an
answer, she wished an audience for her wisdom. Her
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