Sapient Salvation 4: The Claiming (Sapient Salvation Series) Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Claiming

  Copyright

  Books by Jayne Faith

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  4

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  6

  7

  8

  9

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  The Claiming

  SAPIENT SALVATION BOOK 4

  JAYNE FAITH

  Copyright

  Sapient Salvation 4: The Claiming

  Copyright © 2016 by Jayne Faith

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the authors.

  Sapient salvation 4: the claiming / a novel by Jayne Faith

  Ebook Edition ISBN: 978-0-9970260-4-7

  Edited by: Tia Silverthorne Bach of Indie Books Gone Wild

  Published in the United States of America

  Books by Jayne Faith

  The Seas of Time

  The Laws of Attraction

  Sapient Salvation Series

  Book 1: The Selection

  Book 2: The Awakening

  Book 3: The Divining

  Book 4: The Claiming

  Ella Grey Series

  Stone Cold Magic (Book 1)

  Dark Harvest Magic (Book 2)

  1

  Maya

  AS FOUR GUARDS escorted me from the Temple, through the palace, and to the entrance of the harem quarters, my heart tapped away like the flutter of a nervous bird’s wings. Tullock carried my trunk, which contained the few possessions I’d acquired since I’d come to Calisto: seven dresses, several sets of underclothes, five pairs of shoes, a small stack of letters from home, and a few basic toiletries.

  I wasn’t scared of moving into the harem quarters, not exactly. I’d recently spent a brief time there with Clarisse when we’d slipped into the secret passages within the palace walls to meet my twin sister Lana. The women of the harem lived in luxury and even had time to do things like put on plays. But it was another big change with many unknowns, and I would have to navigate a whole new community.

  After surviving the sacrificial fire and the media attention that followed, I was one of the most-recognized people on Calisto. Would the harem women resent me for my infamy? Or perhaps challenge my right to be in the harem when I wasn’t a Tournament victor?

  I tried to push away my doubts, but the truth was I already felt like an anomaly, an outsider.

  We passed through the outer doors of the harem quarters and came to the gold-accented magenta door. The guards stopped and I glanced at Tullock in question before I remembered that men weren’t allowed beyond that point.

  Was I supposed to just go inside? I looked down at one of the ornate door handles but hesitated.

  The door on the right swung open, and I jumped in surprise.

  My brows lifted as a Calistan woman emerged. Her hair, the deep orange color of dried bergamine peels, was arranged in a thick rope of small braids that draped over one shoulder. She flicked a glance over me, seeming to take me in with a split-second assessment of her cool pale gray eyes.

  “Maya Calderon.” She said my name as if she were ticking off an item in a list, further emphasized by the way her fingers swiped and tapped the tablet she held. She reached for a silky black bundle of fabric that was tucked under one elbow and then held out the bundle to me. “Transfer all of your things to this bag. The guards will keep the trunk.”

  I blinked a couple of times and slowly reached for the silk bag. Before with Clarisse, I hadn’t seen any Calistan women in the harem quarters, and it had never occurred to me that I’d encounter anyone other than Earthen Tournament winners.

  I unfurled the bag as Tullock stepped forward with my trunk and tipped the lid open.

  I offered the Calistan woman a polite smile. “May I ask your name, my lady?”

  My heart lurched as I suddenly wondered if I should have curtsied when she came out.

  “No need to call me lady,” she said. “I’m Hera, director of harem life.”

  I nodded and began reaching for my things. Of course there had to be someone in charge, and it made sense to have a Calistan in that position of authority. After all, I reminded myself, Earthens were servants on Calisto. Harem women weren’t free, even if they lived in luxurious rooms and wore beautiful clothes.

  I cast a furtive look at Hera. Was she close with Akantha? Hera appeared business-like and certainly didn’t seem interested in befriending me, but I couldn’t yet tell whether she possessed a cruel streak. I’d just have to hope for the best.

  Perhaps Hera wasn’t cruel—that remained to be discovered—but she wasn’t warm, either. Her sharp gaze followed my movements, and she seemed to be examining the items I pulled from the trunk and stuffed into the bag that Tullock held open for me. He studiously looked elsewhere as I lifted a bundle of underclothes.

  My shoulders tensed as I had the sudden feeling that I was not so much entering a residency but something more akin to glorified imprisonment.

  By the time I’d filled the bag with my possessions, it was too heavy and awkward for me to lift in my arms. Hera held the door for me, not so much as a gesture of kindness but of necessity because I had to drag the bag with both hands.

  With a sinking feeling in my gut, I caught one last glance of Tullock and the other guards as the pink door swung shut with a thud.

  “Your room is this way.” Hera took off down the hallway, and I strained to pull the bag across the plush carpet runner. “Most of the women are at breakfast or readying themselves for the day.”

  An unsolicited piece of information. Perhaps Hera wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  We passed closed doors of rooms that I remembered. When I’d been with Clarisse I’d seen bunk beds inside a few open doors. Perhaps Clarisse would be my roommate. I allowed a little grin at the thought, and it boosted my confidence by the tiniest measure.

  “And here we are,” Hera said. She halted and used the bejeweled knocker on the door, giving it two sharp raps.

  I stood behind her, winded from keeping up with her brisk pace while dragging my loaded bag, and tried not to breathe too loudly.

  The door opened, and when I saw who the occupant was, my entire body seemed to deflate.

  Hera glanced back at me. “You and Kalindi are already acquainted.” Was that a small smirk from the Calistan woman? “You have fifteen minutes to unpack your things. I’ll be back for you.”

  Hera swept off down the hallway, leaving me to face Kalindi, Tournament winner and my former opponent. She stood in the doorway, holding the edge of the door close to her side. By the twist of her deep red lips, she was about as eager to let me inside as I was to enter.

  We stared at each other for a long beat. I had no idea what was running through her mind, but the image of her pushing Britta to her death in the final Tournament challenge hardened my heart. I forced my mouth to pull into what I hoped looked something like a smile. Later I’d try to find out if I could switch r
ooms, but there was no reason to make an enemy within the first few minutes of moving into the harem quarters.

  “Congratulations on your victory,” I said, not quite managing to keep the bitterness from my voice.

  “I simply did what everyone else was trying to do,” she said. “Survive.”

  She finally pushed the door open, and I dragged my bag inside.

  As expected, a set of bunkbeds stood along one wall. There were two vanities painted white with gold trim. The one that was obviously Kalindi’s had three crystal perfume bottles of different shapes and a crystal tumbler with a few makeup brushes in a variety of sizes turned brush-side-up. I guessed the drawers of her vanity held cosmetic compacts and hair styling items. A couple of necklaces and ribbons hung from either side of the vanity’s mirror where the ornate outer edge curled up to form little hooks.

  There were two narrow dressers and two armoires, also white and gold. Kalindi pointed to the pair nearest where I stood. “Those are yours. There’s a drawer in the bottom of the armoire for your shoes. That’s the washroom.” She tipped her head at a door on the opposite wall that stood ajar, revealing a slice of the pedestal sink within. Then she crossed her arms and watched me pull my bag over to the dresser she’d indicated.

  “The perfume bottles and jewelry are beautiful. How did you acquire them?” I asked. I opened the armoire, found several hangers, and began pulling clothes from my bag.

  “We all get to choose toiletries and accessories from a sort of catalog.” She pulled out her little pink velvet upholstered vanity stool and sat. Propping an elbow on the vanity, she seemed to relax just a little. “You’ll pick an initial supply, probably later today or tomorrow. Every month, we’re allowed to choose a few more things.”

  I worked quickly to unpack. Hera was only giving me fifteen minutes, and I sensed she’d be irritated if I didn’t finish the task in that time.

  “How have things been for you since you arrived here, Kalindi?” I asked, hoping she was warming up a little. I knelt to line up my shoes in the armoire’s drawer.

  She gave a short, humorless laugh. “I haven’t been here very long, but . . . you’ll see soon enough.” Her dry tone was so unlike her usual demeanor.

  I cast her a questioning glance as I shoved my underclothes into the dresser drawers. She’d stood and moved toward the door as if to leave. “I must get to the cafeteria before breakfast service ends.”

  “Wait,” I said. She paused with her hand on the polished gold doorknob. “We’re not competitors anymore, and we’re both new here. It seems like it would benefit us both to watch out for each other. Can’t we be friends?”

  “A nice sentiment,” she said quietly. “But for me, the competition hasn’t ended.”

  She opened the door and slipped out before I could ask her to explain what she meant. I stared after her for a long moment. She’d won the Tournament. What competition was she talking about?

  I gave myself a shake, took my bag over to my vanity, and dumped my few toiletries into a drawer. Just as I tucked the bag away into the bottom drawer of my dresser, the knocker rapped against the door.

  Hera had returned. She gave me a brisk nod. “You have an appointment with the dressmaker.”

  I nearly had to jog to keep up as she strode on long legs through the hallways. Each time we encountered harem women—most were walking in twos or threes—I offered smiles and nods. A few smiled back, but more just stared. Many didn’t even wait until I was fully past to lean into each other to whisper. Some didn’t bother keeping their voices low.

  When I spotted Clarisse I nearly ran to her, but I knew Hera wouldn’t pause to let us speak.

  Clarisse touched my arm, a small gesture but one I knew was meant to reassure me. “I’ll come and get you for luncheon,” she said as we passed.

  I only had time to give her a grateful smile in response. After Kalindi’s cool demeanor and cryptic comment about competition, and the looks I was getting in the hallways, I’d started to wonder whether Clarisse would treat me differently. Relief flooded through me even as Hera cast a disapproving look over her shoulder and increased her pace.

  Hera took me to a room that reminded me a bit of Lord Toric’s dressing room. There was a low stool positioned in front of a three-way mirror. Garments hung along the walls, and a high table was stacked with a rainbow of fabric bolts.

  A Calistan woman, wearing a simple but impeccably fitted navy A-line dress with white edging around the cuffs, neckline, and hem, walked forward to greet us. Her gray-streaked mahogany hair was pulled back in a low swooping bun at the nape of her neck.

  Her eyes roved me from neck to ankles, as if she were already taking my measurements and imagining me in a different gown.

  “Natalia, I leave Maya in your capable hands until luncheon,” Hera said to the woman.

  Hera departed just as another Calistan woman emerged from an adjoining room. She carried a stack of fabric pieces, which she placed on the table next to the bolts.

  Natalia came to me and turned me around to face away from her. She moved my braid over my shoulder, and her fingers brushed my neck as she unhooked the top of my dress.

  “We’ll take her measurements, and then you can do color swatches,” she said to the other woman, her assistant I assumed.

  They helped me out of my dress and then had me stand on the little stool in my underclothes, turning me this way and that and moving my arms into several different positions as if I were a life-sized doll. They photographed me from every angle with the tablet.

  They worked with single-minded focus, and I got the sense that to them I was not so much a person as a figure to be carefully clothed. They weren’t unkind, though. I could tell they were passionate about their work, and I began to feel excited to see what they would produce.

  “I’m going to the pattern prototype room, Bernice,” Natalia said to her assistant. “Have her try on the model garments and do her colors, and then she can get dressed.”

  Bernice went to some of the dresses hanging from a bar and selected one. It was made of an unremarkable, dull grayish fabric. It had no detailing or embellishments.

  “That’s rather . . . plain,” I said, doubt coloring my voice, as she helped me into it.

  “It’s for silhouette and shape. Not style or beauty.”

  She used her tablet to take a picture of me in the dress. We repeated the exercise with a dozen more similarly plain dresses that had various skirt lengths and shapes, sleeve styles, and bodice tailoring.

  Bernice pulled a stool out from under the table and positioned it next to the stack of fabric swatches she’d brought. She tilted her head at the stool, indicating I should sit, and went to a panel on the wall. The lights in the room brightened and seemed to sharpen to a whiter tone.

  She came back to me and plucked the top scrap of fabric from the pile—a finely-woven blend in pale pink—and held it up to my collarbone so it draped over my chest. She looked critically at it for a moment and then set it on the table. “Not terrible, but not great either,” she muttered to herself.

  The next scrap was a deeper magenta hue that reminded me of the color that was used throughout the harem quarters. “That’s a yes.” She set the swatch next to the pale pink one.

  “How long have you been in the, um, dressmaking business?” I asked.

  She kept her eyes down, only shifting her gaze over my face to assess whether she liked the color of the swatch she was holding up. “I began my apprenticeship when I turned eighteen. Two years ago.” Her tone was a bit short, but she didn’t seem to mind my question.

  I brightened. “I’m twenty as well. I used to work in agriculture, picking and harvesting in the spring, summer, and fall, and working in the greenhouses in the winter.”

  I clamped my lips closed and stiffened. Obligates weren’t really supposed to speak of Earthenfell. Bernice didn’t seem to object, though. And besides, I was no longer an Obligate. Perhaps the women of the harem had more freedom to talk about h
ome.

  Bernice’s eyes flicked up to mine for a split-second, and faint interest sparked in her orange-flecked green gaze. “Is that so? Must have been nice to get outdoors so much.”

  “I loved it.” I missed it terribly, in fact, but sensed voicing that sentiment would be inappropriate.

  She held a pale violet swatch under my chin. “I bet you never imagined you’d become the most notorious Earthen on Calisto.”

  My brows shot up and a surprised laugh escaped my lips. I lowered my eyelids partway. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said with a perfectly straight face.

  Her lips pressed into a little grin. “Your relationship with Lord Toric would say otherwise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She gave me a sly glance. “He favors you.”

  An uncomfortable tightening sensation grew in my chest. I wasn’t sure I really wanted an answer to my next question, but I had to ask. “Does all of Calisto think so?”

  “There’s gossip. A lot of it. Some’s probably true. Some’s probably not. But you did win the seduction challenge. Even a dunce understands that.”

  My gaze sank to the door as the heat of a blush rose to my cheeks. “And the women of the harem? Do they gossip about the Tournament?”

  Do they gossip about me? was what I really wondered.

  “The harem is the worst. What else do they have to do in their quarters all day?”

  My stomach began to twist into a slowly tightening knot. Only the soft sounds of the fabric in Bernice’s hands filled the room for several minutes.

  She finished with the stack of swatches, and I stood and reached for my dress.

  “We’ll be making day dresses, lounge clothes, lingerie, negligees, and ball gowns for you,” she said as she helped me with the back closure. “You’ll return here in a few days for the fitting of the first delivery of garments.”

  “I can’t wait to see them,” I said, but my former excitement about new clothes had faded somewhat as I contemplated what the harem women might be thinking or saying about me. “Thank you for everything.”