The Princess of the Wild (The Royals of Adriel Book 2) Read online

  THE PRINCESS OF THE WILD

  By Lorelei Orion

  THE PRINCESS OF THE WILD

  Volume Two of The Royals of Adriel series

  Copyright 2012 by Lorelei Orion

  Kindle Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Special thanks to Diane

  Cover design by Red Moon Products and Lorelei Orion

  Cover photo © Kristina Vingelevskaya | Dreamstime.com

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  THE PRINCE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  PART II

  THE PRINCESS

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  APPENDIX

  PART I

  THE PRINCE

  Chapter 1

  February 2, 2275

  Planet Kan

  Night had become a cold, dark haze, a forlorn quiet that penetrated the soul of the captive. Beyond the glassy barrier the blackness was thick, giving way only to the ghostly smoke that slipped from the bellows of the distant stone dwellings, rising from the rooftops, shrouding the stars above. This planet had a hopeless mien, without the heat of a sun, the warmth of a meadow, the light of a flower. It was hell to the woman who stood alone, half-hoping that her existence would simply end.

  “Damn them,” she whispered darkly. “I must get back to Papa.”

  Skye Aria Williams flicked the panel that brought shade into the large window, blocking the dismal sight beyond. She moved to sit in the chair by the fiery hearth, burrowing into the weighty brown and white mosaic pelts that were there, clutching the soft folds in her hands to ward off the chill. The huge chair dwarfed her tall and slender form, giving hint to the bulk of the Kalcoonian behemoths who enslaved her. Her two-room prison was small, this room having three walls made of gray slab stone, the fourth wall being an impenetrable window that—in the dusky light of day—overlooked the snowy landscape of the remote village. Beyond was a long stretch of flat, deserted ground and distant stone buildings. She didn’t know where she was. All she could guess was that she was on the planet Kan, not her home planet of Adriel. Why she was here was a mystery to her.

  Skye shut her violet-blue eyes tightly, lost in the despair that ruled her. She guessed that this was her second night in captivity, her being unsure because of the tranquilizers they had given her to subdue her resistance. Now that her head was clear, she could do nothing but wait and wonder. Why had the Kalcoons captured her? What was to be her fate? An image of her father’s worried face flashed in her head, his bright blue eyes darkened with concern. She just knew that he couldn’t be dead ... he couldn’t be gone ...

  “Skye, my lit’o light.”

  Her father’s soft, comforting voice seemed to resonate in the far corners of her mind. Her memory began to retrace the events that brought her here, that fateful day ...

  “No, Skye, it is time that you get the proper schooling,” he had said, refusing to give in to her pleas. She had spoken to him on the college comm, begging him to let her come home to him. He was adamant about her staying there. But, three days at the college was more than she could endure. She had known that first day that the school—with its many walls and suffocating rules—wasn’t the place for her.

  “You are almost nineteen now, Skye,” he had said. “I can't school you any longer. Gallivanting around the countryside with me is no life for a young woman.”

  “But you have a place now, Papa,” she persisted. “I want to stay with you!”

  “No, Skye—stay away!” he warned. “You must give it time. I will come to see you soon. Ah, you’ll be fine, lit’o light. Chin up.”

  If only she had listened to him ... But, she had never been very good at listening when her will was telling her to do otherwise. She refused to endure one more lonely night. She had packed her bags, alone while she walked down the hall, ignoring the students’ surprised faces as she passed by them. She had nothing in common with her simplistic peers, having lived an uncommon childhood, riding the changing winds with her father. Many of the girls were envious of her because the boys were smitten with her, but too afraid to approach her. She just didn’t belong.

  She hired an auto to take her through Seascape City, across the five miles to her father’s new estate. Her drifter father had finally settled on a rich, beautiful spread of land nestled near a cove on Adriel’s Aurora Sea. She had only been there once before, the day he had enrolled her in Lodestar College. The house wasn’t huge but it was grand and picturesque, having a winding cobblestone walkway lined with a kaleidoscope of soft and fragrant flowers. Most importantly, it was a home, the first one he had since her beloved mama had died, those twelve long years ago ...

  Skye sighed and opened her eyes, staring into the rocks that flared fluently in the hearth, the fire becoming a misty red glow. Her mama. She had only broken and vague memories of her, having lost her at the tender age of six. She had lost her younger brother, Jencin, that horrendous day, also…

  The toddler had been playing out on the lawns and slipped out of his mother’s sight only for a moment. He made it to the river nearby their cabin, the water high and raging that day. When he had fallen in, her mother followed, desperately trying to save him. The current was swift and deadly, and their limp bodies had been found far downstream. All the laughter—the cozy and happy cocoon of her childhood—ended that day. She would never forget the look on her father’s face while he stared at their graves there in the meadow behind the cabin. He was a man who had lost the will to live.

  Her wailing brought him back to life. He tearfully had swooped her up into his arms. They had left quickly that same night, never to return home again.

  So began her journey, her new life. Her father had even changed their name, saying that she must call herself ‘Skye Williams’ now, and not ‘Skye Hamilton’. It took a long while for the smile to return to her father’s face. She had always liked it when he smiled. It warmed his blue eyes, making her feel comforted and safe. He was tall and thin, with shoulder-length hair that he liked to change the color of often—sometimes black, sometimes blond. His natural color was a glossy reddish gold, and he had passed that trait on to her. Often he wore a beard—quite a scraggly one—displaying his unsophisticated nature, being one who felt more comfortable out-of-doors than being confined by walls.

  Tavis Williams was Scottish by descent, he and her Norwegian mother, Aria, born on Earth. He had told her the tale of how her mother and he had fallen passionately in love and left for Adriel to start a new life. After their ageless fifty-year sleep, they woke, their bodies still as young as before, both in their second decade of life. Nearly a year after they arrived at their exciting and promising new home, she was born. It had been a joyous life—until the river took those they loved ...

  They
roamed the hills and valleys, living off the land. She learned how to survive on the bounty that nature provided, the delectable fruits and nuts, and abundant fish. Her father was a skilled outdoorsman and also a brilliant teacher. He schooled her with a computer tablet, on which she read her books and learned her numbers. As she grew, he quizzed her often, and praised her for her intelligence, calling it ‘superior’. She didn’t know if she was superior or not, having rare contact with other children, but she did have an instinct for knowledge.

  They would sleep under the bright canopy of stars, her airbed soft and comfortable. Many times her father would play his guitar near the warm, crackling fire, and he’d sing, his voice rich and soothing. He taught her how to strum the simple wooden instrument, finding she had the gift of tempo. She’d join in the singing of the songs, her voice pleasant and clear.

  “You’ve sure got the gift, lit’o light,” he’d praise.

  Somehow, though, their songs always ended on a sad note. She would feel the pangs of loss when they celebrated the birthdays of her mother and brother. When the day of their deaths came, her father and she commiserated silently and rarely spoke.

  Howbeit, she rarely felt the weight of loneliness. Her life was filled with adventures—anticipating what was over the next bend—every day there was something new. They had the kinship of Human companionship when they would interact with the holograms she created with her computer tablet. Although it wasn’t quite the same as true Human interaction, it filled the void of her lack of friendship. Her father no longer was a gregarious man. Wounded, made to live without his wife, and feeling betrayed by the Lord of Heaven, he no longer cared for the company of others.

  They would meet people along the way in their travels, but would never stay long enough for a true rapport. Rarely they would enter the chaos of a town—the autos and transports speeding by—and this was only when absolutely necessary, when she outgrew her clothing or needed more computer accessories for her advanced schooling. Her raiment was always practical but pretty, with colorful boots and leggings, with many styles of shirts, and a warm coat for the cold times. She had never worn a dress after the age of six, but she had never wished to. Frilly skirts would simply interfere with the gathering of firewood or chasing after a determined fish. She wanted to keep well groomed, though, and bathed in the nearest river or pond, her father standing guard in the event that a stray camper would amble along.

  Tavis Williams had funds, but he rarely used them. He chose to exchange the wooden figurines he whittled for the provisions they needed. Everyone who saw his work was eager to own such fine, original craftsmanship. She was seven when he had told her that—if anything ever happened to him—she must go to Lotty’s House, which was a safe haven for children in Dakota, a neighborly town near the Turquoise Mountains, a remote area on the continent of Tantara. She was ten when he brought her to the bank there and put her thumbprint on file, identifying her for the use of the account. He told her of a safe box in this bank that she was to open in the event of his death. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, but he needed to make sure that she knew she’d be provided for, if need be. She never dwelled on such a horrendous thought, and felt assured that he would always be by her side.

  But now, as a woman, she knew that this wasn’t so ...

  Sometimes in the dark of night he’d wake her, and they would gather up their backpacks and move on, to the next stretch of wilderness, the new discovery. She was twelve when they went off to explore Myrrh, the mystic world on a parallel orbit with Adriel. When they arrived at the metropolis of Aladdin, she stepped off the galactic shuttle bus and was captivated by the gentle, unique and spicy fragrance of the air. Most people there were of a darker skin, of Arabian descent, but her father and she blended in well with their sun-touched skin, donning the hooded ornamental robes, the local garb. There he told her of another safe house, and extended his account for her. They weren’t in town long, and went off to experience the countryside ...

  As she became a young woman, her father’s worries for her future began to deepen. She grew up well—tall and lean—with a bright smile and freehearted spirit. He expressed his concerns.

  “Skye, sweetheart, you should be with others your own age. Someday you should find a husband and have babies. This is no life for you, this living like a gypsy.”

  “Someday isn’t today, Papa,” she assured. “I’m all right. And I love my life.”

  At times, though, she found herself wishing for a common life. She sometimes longed for a real home. She would watch the news about Adriel on her computer screen, keeping up with current events, those exciting happenings that she was so far removed from. She especially liked the rare glimpses into the private lives of the Royal Family of Adriel, the beautiful Queen Sarra and her handsome consort, and their heirs. She—as she imagined a great many of those like her—had a special fondness for Prince Nicholas, with his magnificent blond physique and devastating charms. Sometimes of late, she would dream of him—or an image like him—his arms warm around her, his presence an unfathomable mystery. She would wake with a smile, but became disappointed that he wasn’t beside her, that it was but an exquisite fantasy. At times she caught herself being a bit envious of the royals. They had a wonderful, glorious home and a large family filled with comradery. She herself had no home but for the stars above. Howbeit, she had her father’s love—and this was a gift, indeed.

  Skye focused on the fire and swallowed hard, dreading to fear that she had lost him ...

  Everything began to change between them when she turned eighteen. At times she would catch the sadness in his eyes while he looked at her, knowing that he thought of her mother, him having told her at the age of twelve that her features mirrored her mother's. And, she was no longer a child. She had become quite enamored with a tall and blond boy when her father and she had stayed in a tent at a traveling carnival. The boy, Nathan, was as handsome as he was adorable, but not too gifted with smarts. Their love affair was short; he hadn’t even had the chance to kiss her. Within the week, the wanderers were off again, but this time to return to their home planet, Adriel. Tavis could no longer deny that his child had grown.

  Hence, this was the reason for the college. He wanted to give her a normal life. Against her protests, he enrolled her in the school, where it all began ...

  Skye had suspicions forming. At times—throughout the years—she had felt a strange foreboding, but she didn’t know why. She felt as though she should be looking over her shoulder—as if she were being pursued, chased by ... something, some omen. She had told her father about it.

  “Don’t fret, lit’o light,” he had assured, patting her shoulder. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

  She had assumed that it was just her imagination, had thought that her father had chosen this way of life. She wondered, now ... His desire to change his hair color often ... going so far as to change their surname ... the swift departures in the middle of the night ... Had he been running from someone?

  A sharp sound snapped Skye out of her rumination, bringing her back to her reality. The noise had sounded like a single burst of laughter, coming from many voices, distant and faint. Where was she? She listened intently, and wondered if she imagined that she heard the muffled, boisterous din, such as the joviality that might go on in a rowdy tavern.

  She rose and moved to the door, though she knew it was locked, having tested it before; there was no escape. She began to pace, her soft boots thudding dully on the harsh floor, her long mosaic robe undulating about her. The Kalcoons had taken her clothes from her, giving her only these motley pelts to wear. They had drugged her on the cargo ship, tranquilizing her, stopping her fierce struggles. They had taken her from her father, when she had cried out for help ...

  She had left the college that day and made it to her father’s estate. Dusk was casting the dark shades across the picturesque house as she had stepped out from her hired auto, collecting her bags. She paid her fare, and the drive
r reared the auto and sped away. She stood a moment, assessing the situation. No light illuminated the house, and the silence was broken only by the gentle hush of the sea, the sea hidden beyond the hill that rose above the circle of the cul-de-sac. Her father still guarded his privacy, and the nearest neighbor was a good distance back down the road. Suddenly, she felt eeriness in all of the quiet, a foreboding uneasiness. Was Papa here? She picked up her bags and hurried down the long and winding walkway, and in her haste, she dropped one. She bent to retrieve it.

  What happened next was something she replayed in her mind, again and again ...

  In the distance, her father came rushing out of the darkened doorway in a panic. “Gunner, no!” he roared. “Skye—run! Get away, Skye!”

  Startled, she froze. A blue-green laser stream came at her from an opening in the trees before her, scarcely missing her, striking the bushes beside her. Panic gripped her as she began running back in the direction she had come. She glanced behind her to see other bolts sparking on the trees, following her escape.

  Her father had a gun also and was defending her, firing diligently at the assailant. She saw a tall silhouette within the trees, the blue-green streams now assaulting in the direction of her father.

  The screams tore from her as her hysteria consumed her, and she ran blindly down the road, toward the neighbor’s estate to find help. There was an auto parked on the top of the hill. She made it to there ...

  “Please—help me!” she cried.

  Who she saw in the auto made her stumble backward. Two Kalcoons were there, their bulky bodies filling the small space, their large eyes dark and evil.

  One jumped out and the next that she knew was that she was struggling against his massive, hairy form. She felt a windy rush of an injection in her cheek, and then everything turned dark.

  She woke disoriented, her head throbbing. She opened her eyes to see that she was in a room with many others who—like she—were lying on the floor. The room that enclosed her wasn’t a room; it was a cargo hold of a starship. A Kalcoon stomped about in the narrow aisle, between his victims. The captives were all female, about her age, and over twenty in number. She saw a familiar face—the blue-eyed girl was terrified, sobbing uncontrollably. This was a girl she had seen in her art class in school. The Kalcoon, irritated by her emotion, moved to place an injection in her nape. The screaming girl collapsed, and then was silent and still.