The Princess of the Wild

by Lorelei Orion

  She was perplexed. “But, I haven’t heard anything about that.”

  “It wasn’t widely known, so as not to cause a panic.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have friends in the Security Force. I told them about it, about what happened to you.”

  Skye was surprised, about him having such influential friends. “Who are you? A security officer?”

  He laughed heartily, at that. “No, let’s just say that I’m an adventurer—I’ve had a security officer after me a time or two, though. I go from place to place. I meet a lot of people on the way.”

  Skye concluded that she was right—he was a bit of a rogue. He was a man who enjoyed the debauchery of brothels. But, she certainly knew about going from place to place ...

  Nicholas peered down on the mysterious girl—he had solved one part of the mystery, anyway. He had sent a message out on the ship’s comm, to his mother and father. He had uncovered a slave trade ...

  The Kalcoons were taking their unsuspecting victims from the two planets and selling the Human wares to the Trobins. Taush had either bought the girl from the Kalcoonian scouts or had stolen her himself, wanting to keep her for his brothel, knowing that he had a huge moneymaker in her—he was right, about that. But, the Trobins had double-crossed him and had taken her—that explained Taush’s fear of him going to Strou; he was afraid they’d be exposed. The Trobins, with their brutal sexuality and lack of morals, were using the girls as their sexual slaves. His instincts were right—never trust a Trobin.

  The fact that the cargo ship had docked at Queen Te Sa Narr’s private pier told him that she knew about the illicit trade—probably condoned it. This could start a war between the planets. This was a precarious situation. The palace must covertly work to expose them—no doubt they wouldn’t find the slaves outright if they were to storm Queen Te Sa Narr’s headquarters. They must catch them in the act. One of these days, he’d pay Taush a personal visit, but for now he’d best get this girl home, where she’d be safe.

  “Is there someone you want me to send a message to?” he asked. “To tell them that you’re safe?”

  Skye was embarrassed that she had no one to call. It was humbling to discover that no one truly cared if she lived, or if she died. She averted her face and shook her head.

  Nicholas was surprised. “No one?”

  She shook her head again.

  “No family? A relative? A girlfriend?”

  She had to shake her head again, becoming more and more chagrined.

  “A boyfriend?”

  “No,” she admitted, her voice small.

  This was even more surprising—but pleasing—news to him. She should be beating them off with a stick. He scratched his chin, wondering if this truly was an angel fallen down from Heaven to test him.

  “So, where do you live?”

  Skye couldn’t take any more frustration. She didn’t want to tell him that she didn’t have a home. “On Adriel,” she replied.

  “Good!” he said warmly. “That’s my home base. That’s where we’re heading. Whereabouts on Adriel?”

  Skye really had nowhere to go. She’d never return to Lodestar College, and she couldn’t go to her father’s estate where he had been killed. She thought of the safe box in Dakota, the one that he had told her to open in the event of his death. She would go there ...

  “Dakota,” she said solemnly.

  “Dakota. That’s a nice town. Is that where your school is?”

  “No, it’s Lodestar College in Seascape City. I was only there three days. I won’t be going back there.” Truly, she had nothing to go back to.

  Nicholas was moved to compassion, seeing her dejected face. “You said that your father ... died?”

  She nodded.

  “He was in a laser battle with someone, but you ran before he ... How do you know that he died?”

  “I just know.”

  Nicholas considered her. The act of murder was rare on Adriel, the subjects shunning their baser instincts, living in peace and prosperity. Perhaps there would be a news transmission about it, to corroborate her story.

  “Let’s go look,” he said, going off to the bridge and motioning for her to follow.

  When in the bridge, he sat in a chair, clicked on a viewer, and glided his fingertips across the panel.

  “Williams, you say?”

  She nodded.

  Nothing came up about a Williams, but there was a story of a Tavis Hamilton being recently killed on his estate in Seascape City. His killer got away, and there were no suspects. The authorities couldn’t find his only kin, his daughter, to notify her.

  Skye’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She had known that he was gone, but to actually see it ... The reality of it all struck her like a knife.

  Nicholas didn’t notice her tears. “But, I thought you said that your name was Skye Williams.”

  A sob escaped her, and he was up and out of his chair, taking her into a gentle embrace. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized huskily. “Sorry to have ...”

  Skye welcomed the comfort of his presence while he smoothed her hair, shushing her. Suddenly, she was embarrassed by her weakness—just this morning she had told herself that she had her wits about her again. She must be strong ... She pulled away from him and wiped her cheeks.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  She nodded rapidly, composing herself. She brought the strength back into her voice. “No,” she said, pointing at the viewer. “That’s him. Hamilton was his other name.”

  Nicholas wondered why the man would have an alias, but thought it best not to press, right now. He wanted to help, in any way that he could. “I can tell the authorities that you’ve been informed,” he offered.

  Her eyes widened. “You could?”

  “Like I said, I have friends in the Security Force. I could have them make the arrangements for him—anything that you want.”

  Skye nodded, grateful. At least she wasn’t completely alone in this. “Do what you think is best,” she said.

  Nicholas was confused.

  “We have no kin. My father doesn’t care where his body lies, now that his spirit is in Heaven.”

  After a moment, he nodded, knowingly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He placed his large hand on her soft shoulder and guided her around, moving her toward the doorway. “You should rest,” he urged. “That’s a lot for a girl to handle.”

  Skye forgave his disparaging attitude because it was a lot for her to handle—he was just being kind. She sat on the bench in the nook like he prompted, and he retrieved for her a fresh mug of coffee.

  “Anything else you need?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Satisfied, he went off to the bridge, locking the door behind him. She wondered about all the locked doors, but concluded that he didn’t want her to have access to his influential friends. She shrugged and turned to stare out the window, becoming lost in her grief.

  A while later, Skye was glad for the distraction when he entered the room.

  “It’s done,” he said.

  She murmured her thanks.

  He paused nearby her. “I was going to ask you ... Do you know what happened to my travel bag?”

  “Yes. Stra Akka had it.”

  “Did you go in it?”

  She thought that it was a strange question to ask. “No—I’m not a thief.”

  “No—I never said that you were. I just lost a few things, is all.”

  Nicholas thought of his personal comm that would identify him. By now, it surely was found when Stra Akka was found, dead. Hopefully, the Trobins would think that it had been stolen from him before Stra Akka had stolen it. Either way, being how the Trobin had come upon it, they couldn’t announce it to the worlds that Prince Nicholas had been involved, lest they expose their own corruption.

  She still didn’t know of his identity. He’d like to keep it that way ...

  He saw her tired, tear-streaked eyes; she had
been crying again. He wished that he could take away her pain, but knew that only the passage of time could do that.

  He motioned for her to rise from the bench and she did, curious. He took her mug off the table and touched the panel on the wall. The nook began changing, the benches folding inward onto the table until the three windows were there—and so was the bed. She glanced up at him quickly, suspicious.

  “No,” he assured. “You’re safe with me. Why don’t you nap—rest. Get your strength back. I’ll get you a plate.”

  Skye did as she was told, crawling into the bed, between the soft sheets. He brought her a plate of fine bread, and meat and cheese, which she nibbled on as he spent his time on the bridge. As the afternoon aged, he came back often to check on her, to which she assured him that she was all right. She did feel better, being inundated by his comfort.

  Her worries eventually faded as she drifted off, into the healing power of sleep.

  ***

  Nicholas tossed and turned fitfully on the long and narrow lounge, unable to sleep. He heard her soft and even breathing coming from the nook, and he wanted to go there and take her into his arms. He would soon have her like before, but this time he would have a willing response from her, not the primal emotion clouded by the Kalcoonian drugs. But, she was an innocent girl—not his usual kind. He would have to take it slowly. He wanted to win her heart—as any ordinary man would—and make her come to him when she was ready.

  This was a most unusual woman. It seemed that she had fallen out of the sky, made especially for him. She was a composed female, concise with her words, having a soft and sweet voice and an air of abundant intelligence. She had a presence about her, almost regal in stature. Obviously, she had been through much—really quite tragic—but she was brave and held her pain well. She held her head high, but not in arrogance. He thought of Lady Audrey, and all of the others like her, with their polished locks and frills and jewels. Although Lady Audrey was very beautiful, with her blue eyes and golden hair, this simple girl would put her to shame—put them all to shame.

  He had never met a woman like her. He needed more time with her—he couldn’t let her slip away, just yet. He would win her—what would be the harm? He’d take to the game with gusto and prove that he could seduce a woman, without the aide of his name.

  Perhaps, if he so desired, he would set up a house for her and make her his mistress. It seemed like she didn’t have any place special to go ...

  He rose and restlessly paced, glancing frequently at the darkened nook. He thought of the family cabin, a hideaway on Myrrh. It was a place where they could be alone. Myrrh was closer than Adriel at this time of year, anyway ... Could he really ... could he really do that ...?

  He found himself within the bridge, standing before the helm. He debated a moment, on if his conscience would allow it.

  “Oh, what the hell,” he uttered, and changed the ship’s coordinates, setting course for Planet Myrrh.

  Chapter 6

  “There’s been a change of plans,” Nick informed matter-of-factly. “A gyronic defibrillator is malfunctioning in the helm. We can’t make it all the way to Adriel. We’ll have to stop off at Myrrh and have it fixed.”

  “A gyronic defibrillator?” Skye questioned.

  “Yes. It’s part of the main power supply of the ship. I don’t trust it. It’s erratic. The whole ship could shut down.”

  Skye didn’t know much about the workings of a starship, but figured that he knew his helm better than anybody.

  This was the third day aboard the spacecraft. In all truth, this had been a very pleasant time. He was an exceptional host, showering her with comfort, silently understanding her need for convalescence. He had given her a computer tablet to read her choice of novels, to occupy herself, but for the most part, she found herself watching him behind the veil of her lashes. He spent much of his time on the bridge, but when he was near, he was gallant and charming, wanting to see to her slightest need.

  Somewhere within his immoral fiber he must truly respect women, since he didn’t try to have her again, after hearing her story. It appeared that he didn’t think it was appropriate. Sometimes she would glance up, feeling the penetrating warmth of his stare, and find his gaze hot on her breasts—to which he would quickly look away. Still, he didn’t act on his desire ... though she caught herself wishing that he would. Her mind would wander from the book she read, into the fascinating memory of his touch. Her body wholly wanted to experience that again, but her mind resisted, knowing that it was best that she didn’t. He had found her in a brothel; no doubt he would frequent them again. Truly, she didn’t like that sort of man. And, she couldn’t just go up to him and ask that he kiss her ...

  Her time with him would end soon, anyway. This stop off at Myrrh would surely be a short delay ...

  Later that day, when they were on approach to Myrrh, the helm began misbehaving, giving him cause for concern.

  He cursed. “I’d best find the nearest place to land ...”

  He strapped her in her chair, and then he in his, as if expecting a turbulent descent. His fingers glided on the panels, trying to get the erratic ship under his control.

  “Hang on!” he warned. “This could get ugly.”

  Skye clutched the arms of the chair, her heart beginning to race. She admired his skill and was thankful for it as the craft began slicing through the wispy clouds, entering the lower atmosphere. She cried out as the ship suddenly slid into a roll—and then another—jostling her from hanging upside down in her seat in one instant to right side up the next. An epiphany came to her, the resignation of her death ... but then the craft was on a calmer flight, not too far above the treetops. He stabilized the balance, enough so that he was able to command the ship, and to do a controlled—if erratic—vertical landing, the ship smoothly meeting the solid ground of Myrrh with a single, jolting thud.

  Skye placed her hand over her heart, gasping for air.

  “Sorry!” he said, as breathless as she. “You see what I mean? But, we made it!”

  He caught his breath and unstrapped himself from the chair, and pushed the button to unstrap her. He rose, considering her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded rapidly.

  He moved for the ship’s exit and she followed him, on her unsteady legs. He opened the door and peered out, and then he stepped down the metallic steps that had unfurled. She stepped down after him, out into the serene wilderness.

  He turned abruptly and headed back up the stairs. “I’d better order that part,” he mumbled, shutting the door behind him.

  Skye knew that something was amiss, seeing what lie before her. Not two hundred feet away there was a log cabin, an ancient-looking structure made from real trees and cobblestone. She had a brief memory of a similar place from her childhood, a happy place, and her home before her mother and brother had died. This house was surrounded by the wilderness also, the quiet broken only by the bright calling of the birds that were hidden in the lofty and hanging branches of the abundant, verdant trees. A blue pond sparkled nearby, its shimmer mirroring the gloss of the azure sky above. A garden of colorful wildflowers and lush fruit trees grew nearby, filling the already sensuous scent of the Myrrhian air with a heady, intoxicating fragrance. This was a utopian paradise—a place made for lovers.

  Nick exited the craft and approached her. “Well,” he began. “I got the order out and then the darn comm just stopped working—we’ve lost all power. It’s a very specialized part—they’ll have to get it from Adriel. I guess we’ll be stuck here for a few days, until the part arrives. We’ll just have to make the best of it,” he concluded, with a sigh.

  Skye’s suspicions were confirmed. Did he really think that she was that stupid?

  He continued on. “It’s good that I was able to make it here. I don’t want to think about what might have happened had we had to land over a more populated area.”

  Apparently, he did. Laughter welled up within her, but she pus
hed it back down. She had an inkling of what he had planned for her and—against her better judgment—she conceded. She’d play along ...

  “Yes,” she agreed, innocently. “That could have been terrible.”

  With a purse of his lips, he concealed his smile, his relief that she had bought his ploy. He came near to place his hand on her shoulder, leading her toward the cabin.

  Skye was in awe of all the natural beauty. “Whose place is this? Yours?” she asked.

  “My father built this cabin many years ago, before he met my mother,” he explained. “We used to come here when I was a child. I haven’t been here for—what’s it been now—ten years, or so. Still looks the same ...”

  When they reached the doorstep, he placed his thumb on a security panel on the rugged wall, and the computer identified him and granted his entrance, clicking the door open. With his outstretched hand, he prompted her to enter. She moved into the room, marveling about the rustic decor, the wooden furnishings and cozy ambience. There was a cobblestone hearth on the far wall, and a bed nearby it. Her gaze fleeted from the bed, over to the kitchen area on the opposite end of the room, a simple scullery of an antique mode. The air brought warmth into her mien, the sunlight streaming in the cross-paned windows, cheery with the day.

  He moved to the kitchen, opening cupboards, seeing if everything was in order. Satisfied of the sufficient provisions, he moved into an adjoining room, and she followed him to the doorway. This room was as cozy as the last, having a pair of bunk beds flanking the walls. A large wardrobe ran the length of the wall nearest the doorway, and he slid back the doors and sifted through it.

  “I’m sure I can find something more comfortable for you to wear,” he mumbled while he searched.

  He selected a simple pastel-blue dress with a pair of matching slippers, and came to hold them out to her.

  “How’s this?” he asked.

  She wondered about the absent owner’s permission.

  “It’s my mother’s. She won’t mind.”