Queen of the Stars (The Royals of Adriel Book 1) Page 7

  Cronala bent to sniff and study the orchids. “You stupid girl!” she snorted, relieved. “These are not aphrodisiacs! They are—”

  Sarra plunged the large scarlet pillowslip over the woman’s head, down to her waist. She turned her around, pushing her down onto the bed. She jabbed her knee into her back and snatched out the tassel underneath the pillow. She whisked it down her front to her elbows, where she drew it up to tie it at her back. She gasped as Cronala overcame her shock and came to life. Although thin and frail looking, she had a most formidable spirit. She tried to rise to knock her backward with the force of an enraged bull. Sarra had the power of determination and pinned her down, straddling her. She succeeded in knotting the rope, and pulled forcefully on the remaining lengths, dragging her over to a bedpost. She propped her up against it and secured her there, tying off the rope. Cronala squirmed to free herself. Her shrieks were muffled while she kicked her legs out in rapid succession, trying to make contact with the victor.

  Sarra jerked the pillowslip up enough to take the weapon and remote off her prisoner’s belt. She made sure that the M-5 was set on stun, and slipped her thumb under the small raised bar that protected the trigger of the sleek, silver gun, and kept her thumb there, ready. She slid the gun into her right pocket. She dropped the veil down over her face and hurried for the exit. Her breathing came fast from all her exertions, making her pause a moment to compose herself. Then she used the remote and the door opened.

  Instead of the freedom she expected to find beyond, she bumped into a solid wall. She flinched when she realized that the wall was Raine Nicks.

  “Going somewhere, Princess?” he mocked.

  She drew the M-5 out in a flash. He knocked it from her hand. He lifted her, tossing her over his shoulder. Sarra then found that she was sprawled out on her back on the lounge. She shook her head, dizzy from the impact, and watched him take the gun off of the floor and fasten it onto a notch on his belt.

  “You’ll have to cancel your plans for today,” he teased.

  She ripped the headdress off to see where she would maim him. “You! Damn you!” she spat, lunging for his throat.

  He easily fended her off with one hand. He gave her breast a firm push and her backside then thudded on the carpet. He took a pair of handcuffs out of his shirt pocket, and an incredulous squeal tore from her as he snapped one orb onto her wrist, and the other to the base of the lounge. With her free arm she struck at him, blindly.

  He dodged her, chuckling and having a wonderful time. She yanked on the shackle but only succeeded in bringing an aching into her wrist. He moved into the next room, and she calmed herself down enough so that she could hear him.

  “Why, Cronala,” he said, considering the woman, clearly amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look better.”

  The muffled curses were soon free to assault the air. “Where is she? Nick—you bastard! Give me the gun! Give me the gun!”

  The screaming spectacle came into view, struggling violently with Nicks. “Bitch!” she ranted with a damning finger out. “I’ll kill you! Kill you!”

  Cronala spit at her. Sarra felt the need for reaction. She literally hissed.

  Nicks had to forcibly throw the woman out and lock the door. The buzzer rang incessantly a moment and then stopped. He turned around, and was met with icy-cold, dark-blue eyes.

  He smiled, undaunted. “Calm that royal temper.”

  “Release me!” she demanded.

  He sat down on a cushion near her, lazily stretching his arms up and out before cupping his palms at his nape. “It isn’t every day that one has a princess at one’s feet.”

  Sarra glanced about wildly, looking for something to throw. With her free hand she pulled the weighty candle off of the end table near her and flung it at him with all of her strength. Easily he caught it in both hands. He studied the gilded art piece, enjoying the fine craftsmanship, and then he carefully placed it on the floor, well away from her. She frantically tried to reach the tray that was further down the table, refusing to accept that it was just out of her reach.

  “If you keep behaving like that, I won’t release you,” he threatened.

  Sarra gnashed her teeth. “You, sir, will regret the day of your birth if you do not let me go this instant!”

  He laughed heartily, a smooth and rich sound. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Sarra quit her vain attempt at reaching the artillery, and her withering glare at him wasn’t sufficient enough to express her loathing. She turned her face away in a huff and inspected the handcuff. She tried to wriggle her hand out of the tight, padded sphere, but only the remote—which he had—would free the electronic lock. There was nothing that she could do. Helpless, again …

  She had vowed to show him no weakness, but her fears were rising again. Her hands began to tremble, and she had no power to control them. She swallowed hard, her throat becoming tighter. She sensed that he watched her and braved a glance up to see where he looked. Green eyes were hot and intense on her breasts. Alarmed, her gaze darted down to the white bodice, one that covered her well, but his gaze seemed to reach in, seeing beyond the cloth. She closed her eyes and just as quickly opened them. She couldn’t stop the flush from reaching her cheeks.

  “I suspect,” he said quietly, “that it would be best if you accepted your situation. There is no escape. When your father agrees to my demands, you will be set free.”

  He rose and touched the remote, and the shackle deflated. She slipped her hand out of it and he bent, taking the other end of the handcuff off of the lounge. She rubbed her wrist, turning bravely to give him a murderous glare. But the door was closing behind him.

  She rose unsteadily, testing her equilibrium. She hit her brow with her palm in reprimand for breaking her vow. But, how could she not show her fears when his overwhelming presence demanded it?

  He had been waiting there at the door. How had he known that she had planned to run? Could he truly read minds? It was as if he could see into her psyche. As if—

  “No!” she gasped.

  She scrambled about, upturning chairs and tables, praying that her suspicions weren’t correct. But then she saw it.

  Within a picture on the wall, a tiny lens peeked back at her.

  The rooms were monitored! By watching a viewer screen, Nicks—and everyone else—could have seen her every move!

  His laughter taunted her in the odd quiet of her mind. Her outrage moved slowly from her clenched jaws down into her fists. She seized an onyx vase and smashed it into the lens, destroying them both. She stalked through her cell, searching for more intrusions on her privacy. Another one, near the base of a crystal decanter; she flung the decanter from her hand and it shattered against the wall. Another, in the hanging antique lamp nearby the bed! She flipped off her slipper and sent it up into it, and fragile blue glass fell in shards. She gasped as she thought of the bath, and moved with purpose to there. There, on the side of the mirror, was the lens that surveyed the tub. Her face began burning while she speculated about Nicks’ certain voyeurism. She annihilated her reflection with utter fury.

  She became like a whirlwind, leaving a wake of destruction in her path, venting her frustration by thrusting the bric-a-brac into mirrors, clawing the fabric off of the chairs with her long nails, using her teeth and fists to make shreds of every gown in the wardrobe.

  Even when she was surrounded by shambles, she needed more. She kicked her way through the rubble, her ire so complete that it made her bounce once and twice up into the air. Finally, she collapsed onto a torn and strewn cushion. Her chest heaved while she fought to catch her breath—she hadn’t thrown a tantrum like that since she was a child!

  As she wondered if she had found them all, the door opened. She flounced backward to see Nicks’ impish green eyes.

  “You missed one. Entertain yourself.”

  “Oooohhh!” she screeched, slinging the cushion at him. He was saved from the onslaught by the closing of the doors.

&nb
sp; As Sarra searched the debris for the last live monitor, she took solace in one thought: It wouldn’t be long before her father rescued her. Then, she would have Raine Nicks executed.

  ***

  “Outrageous!” Zenno rasped.

  Dawson—the youngest of the King’s Advisors—agreed. “Yes! They are savages!”

  King Ellis sat at the head of the long table, studying his twelve senior advisors. The men were quarreling, debating on how to handle this perilous situation. The Revolutionaries’ ransom demands had arrived. And they were a very demanding group, indeed.

  They wanted total control of the rainbow mines and five hundred M-5 guns. Rainbows, iridescent gems found only on Adriel, were a vital source of revenue in the commerce with the Kalcoons. Ten years ago, the minerals had been found in the underground caverns scattered all about the planet. Mining towns were formed, where the workers extracted the rocks from the deposits. The rainbows were of little value in themselves, being similar to Earthian opals, but to the Kalcoons, they were priceless. The creatures were fascinated by them and exchanged their world’s unique riches for the crystals. Trading between the two planets flourished because of this. And now, the rebels aimed to disrupt the balance.

  The dissidents claimed that they planned to free the miners—said that the workers were no better than slaves of the monarchy. Ellis knew that these barbaric men could never have such a noble cause.

  “But why would they even mention the miners in their transmission?” he mused aloud, silencing the heated discussion. “Zenno, tell me. Could it be true that they are being treated poorly?”

  “No, Your Majesty!” the man insisted. “I just visited Keyes, the most productive of the mining towns, not even two weeks ago. Don’t you see? The Revolutionaries are greedy! They simply want the riches!”

  “And that’s not all!” Dawson exclaimed. “Five-hundred M-5s! Can you imagine what would happen if we gave them weapons?”

  Ellis nodded, solemnly. For the good of the subjects, laser guns had been banned. Only the military could possess them to keep the peace—and had rarely used them since the war with Kan ended. M-5, or M-5 ESDEL, was an acronym for ‘Military model number 5, electromagnetic superconductor of diffused emission laser’. This weapon could stun or electrocute. Such power in the wrong hands could destroy a population.

  Dawson said, “It is a blessing that the gun’s components are so difficult to produce. I shudder to think of it!”

  The men agreed, but began bickering again.

  Ellis made up his mind about what to do. He motioned at Romney, his Chief Security Advisor. “Romney, send out a message on the same frequency that we received theirs. Tell the Revolutionaries that if they harm but a hair on my daughter’s head, they will be tracked to the ends of the galaxy and die a horrible death. We understand that they have us where they want us. But they must return the princess to Adriel—or leave her in a safe place where we can find her—before we will deliver their demands. They want riches—they’ll receive riches. And guns.”

  “Guns!” Zenno gasped.

  Ellis ignored him. “They will get what they demand after Princess Sarra is back in her palace. It will take time to produce and assemble the guns. She must be returned immediately and then we will negotiate. She must not be harmed in any way, or they will die. You tell them that.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Romney said and bowed before he left the room.

  “Dawson and Fairfax. Call the technicians you will need to investigate every mining town. I want a detailed report. And Zenno, I want you to personally oversee the assembling of the M-5s.”

  “But, Your Majesty—” his Private Secretary protested.

  “Relax, Otis,” Ellis assured. “I mean ‘dummy’ guns, without power. We’ll need twenty or so real ones to make it look authentic—but under no circumstances will they be given the weapons until we have her in our hands.”

  A smile spread slowly across Zenno’s wrinkled face. “I see.”

  Ellis clapped his hands twice. “Dismissed. There’s work to be done.”

  While the men hurried off Ellis rose and went to the window. Alone, he let his shoulders slump, surrendering to his exhaustion. He had somehow kept his head clear and level throughout the meeting, but now his emotion was beginning to rule him.

  He knew that the Revolutionaries would hold her hostage until he could exchange her for the guns. Their demands couldn’t be easily met. And as king, he couldn’t simply hand over control of the rainbow mines to barbarians—it would disrupt the balance of trade in all of Urania. But, they must believe that he can …

  He searched the night sky, overwhelmed by his despair. A chill passed through him as he imagined his Sarra being in the midst of savages.

  “Hang on, little princess!” he rasped. “Daddy will save you!”

  Ellis broke down and sobbed, believing that she was alone in a filthy cell, so cold, so lost—and frightened.

  Chapter 6

  Sarra had trouble keeping her excitement off of her face. Darius was going to let her go out into the garden. With the morning sun he and Nicks had come to assess the damages wrought by her temper. She had blushed when meeting knowing green eyes, certain that he had watched her bathe and dress. She lashed her anger out on her host, demanding her privacy, and Darius had profusely apologized, scolding Raine for using the surveillance equipment. The Arab promised that it wouldn’t happen again and had even agreed that she could have tea out-of-doors while her rooms were being restored. Three women cast wary glances at her as they set about to clear away the rubble.

  When Darius opened the sliding glass panel with his remote, she moved out onto the terrace, breathing deeply of the fresh, fragrant air. She couldn’t believe her luck when Nicks stayed behind. This was her chance—a moment alone with Darius. She sat at the intimate table and Darius took the chair across from her. She tested the herb tea, disguising her true intentions by glancing coolly around at the lush greenery.

  She took a quick sip from her cup, deciding that a bribe was the best approach. “Set me free,” she whispered for his ears only. “Set me free and I will see that you become the richest man on Myrrh.”

  Darius’ large bulk squirmed in his chair. “I am sorry, Your Royal Highness. I cannot do that.”

  “What do you want, then? Power? You’ve but to ask.”

  “No,” he insisted. “I can’t set you free.”

  She thought perhaps a threat would do. “My father will have warrants of execution for anyone who is involved in my abduction.”

  He sighed deeply. “I know. I still can’t help you.”

  “Why not!” she spat, losing her patience.

  “I gave my word to Raine. I have known him since childhood and I trust his judgment.”

  “But he is a barbarian!” she cried, looking over her shoulder at Nicks who stood near the doorway, eyeing her curiously. She glared and turned away.

  Darius’ laughter came soft and deep. “Yes, he may be that. But such a visionary needs a warrior’s skill to survive. He—”

  Sarra winced. Nicks was coming near …

  Darius asked him, “Ah, do you thirst now, my friend?”

  He didn’t reply, taking a chair. Sarra rose. She would not share the table with him. She left the gardens, oblivious to Darius’ protests. Back in her cage, while the workers came in and out with the new furnishings, she inconspicuously made her way to the exit, hoping to slip out. Smith was there standing guard, giving a meaningful pat to his M-5 on his belt. In a huff she went back to the bedchamber and sat down in a plush new chair, ignoring the women who worked on replacing her wardrobe.

  Perhaps she wouldn’t find freedom if not through Darius. Everyone here was loyal to him, and he, to Nicks. Hopelessness threatened to consume her, but she vowed that she wasn’t beaten yet.

  By mid afternoon her cell had been refurbished, but only with the necessities. There was nothing breakable—no antique replicas—and all the mirrors had been replaced with indestru
ctible contemporary glass. She checked for monitors—she didn’t trust anyone who pledged loyalty to Raine Nicks. She didn’t find any but still had the uneasy feeling that she was being watched.

  Cronala no longer was her maid. Sarra couldn’t be more pleased. She had two servants now, so that they could watch each other’s backs. The dark women were timid and nervous around her, keeping their hands near their weapons and jumping at her every move. And no matter how she bribed and threatened them, they wouldn’t help her get word to King Erasmas.

  For the remainder of the day Sarra sat and looked out on the gardens, feeling restless beyond belief. She couldn’t just lounge about idly when tormented by questions! Why was she abducted? What was the price of her freedom? Surely by now her father knew where she was hidden. Why hadn’t his FAS tried to rescue her? She caught herself listening, waiting for the explosions that would shake the foundations. The battle never came.

  It was near the end of her third day on Myrrh when Sarra was certain that she would suffocate in her captivity. When the women came with her evening tray she stalked up to them, determined to find answers.

  “Call Darius to me,” she commanded. “And you call him to me now.”

  They saw her imposing regal eyes and took a fearful leave, knowing that it would be wise to obey Her Royal Highness.

  Sarra paced, fidgeted, and cursed for a full half of an hour before she heard the door. She was about to tear into Darius for his tardiness but she balked at seeing who stood there.

  Raine Nicks. She was surprised that he wore raiment worn for traditional Myrrhian festivals, an exotic outfit similar to what sultans wore on old Earth. The ivory, long-sleeved satin shirt and leggings fit him loosely but didn’t hide the bulge of his arms or the strength of his thighs. The vest, richly embroidered with emerald threads, seemed a mite intimidated being on such a broad chest. He looked less ominous clothed in white, and the contrast made his eyes glow like brilliant green lights. His fluffy golden hair, tied back at the nape, shone like a halo upon his head. She was not fooled. Inside of him there raged a beast.