The Princess of the Wild

by Lorelei Orion

  “But you know, Aria,” he said softly. “You must pay for all that you have done to me. That wasn’t very nice of you, running off with Hamilton. Perhaps I will forgive you, or perhaps not. Do your best to show me your love ...”

  Skye froze, terrified as he placed the cold blade on her breast. He began cutting into her dress ...

  Nicholas worked the lock at the entrance of Gunnar Skogs’ residence, having no clue as to what awaited him within. Although no one appeared to be here and there was a slim chance, he’d investigate this estate in this affluent rural neighborhood on the coast. The FAS alarm bypass, a military device entrusted to a few and not for his personal use, would deactivate the lock without setting off an alarm. The device strategically tapped into the security panel’s magnetic pulse, erasing the code and setting a new one, and it freed the lock as it deployed the new code. The doors opened soundlessly, and he slipped inside.

  His heart skipped a beat when he heard a woman’s muffled scream. He drew his M-5 and sprinted toward there, up a high flight of stairs into a large bedchamber. He came upon the horrifying sight of Skye, her chained to a bed with a man cutting the clothes from her ...

  He sprang backward. He couldn’t use his weapon, with the deadly blade so near her ...

  Skye shrieked out Nicholas’ name in a plea for help, a belief that somehow he could save her. She shrank away from the blade but couldn’t struggle ... The madman yanked away the shreds of her dress, assaulting her with the chill of her nakedness. He set aside the knife, his face a lusty leer while he came down to kiss her ...

  Suddenly, a powerful force struck Gunnar. He cried out in his surprise as he was made to fly off her, landing on the floor in the clutches of a furious man.

  Nicholas!

  Caught off guard by such an attack, Gunnar knew the stark embodiment of fear. His assailant—who was none other than the prince royal—wanted to kill him with his bare hands! He felt the pain in his cheekbone from the blow and he tried to escape. The prince let him make it up to his feet, but then another blow struck him. He spied the fallen knife on the floor and reached for the handle, grabbed it, and stumbled through the open doorway onto the deck.

  He backed away with the knife out before him. The prince stood akimbo, his mocking leer taunting him while he awaited his next move. He sprang at him, brandishing his weapon, and his opponent retreated, moving further down the deck. He leapt at him, again and again, working to corner him against the railing. When he had him cornered, the fearless prince simply laughed at him. In a flash of fury, Gunnar charged at him, aiming to stick the knife in his breast ...

  Nicholas, as the knife came at him, slammed his fist sidelong onto his attacker’s fist and dropped down into a crouch. The knife went sailing away, the man plowed into him, and he grasped him at his calves and lifted, sending him up and over the railing ...

  Gunnar’s resounding scream abruptly stopped. Nicholas rose and looked over the edge, realizing now how far it was to the ground.

  The man was crumpled and still, dead on the rocks far below. His black garb was in eerie contrast against a glossy wave that washed over him, the sea reflecting the red-gold hues of the setting sun.

  Nicholas heard Skye’s cries and rushed to her, deactivating the handcuff and taking her into his arms. He smoothed her hair and shushed her while she clung to him, and he sent up a prayer of thanks to the Heavens, like he had never thanked Him before.

  Chapter 22

  The Colossal Mountains had a fitting name, their majesty stretching for miles upon miles in a splendorous array of pristine peaks. Skye felt as though she saw them for the first time, being that she had been a child of six when she had been here last. It was a serene place, with pure flowing streams and lofty pines, the sky gray and casting a cool gentle mist across the greenery, meshing into the crystal clear river that rushed on before her. These waters had taken the lives of her mother and brother that long ago day, changing her life for forever and setting her on an uncommon path.

  Nicholas’ hand came gently onto her shoulder and she turned to meet his concerned blue-green eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  Skye nodded, bravely. Two days had past since Gunnar Skogs had taken her captive and had lost his life. Had it not been for Nicholas—and some help from above—she would have died, as well. The authorities had laid the case of Tavis Hamilton’s death to rest, having his shrewd killer. Gunnar Skogs was a twisted man, driven by his hatred and vengeance, and his love for a woman he could never have. Her mother’s heart belonged with her father, and it was a destined betrayal that Gunnar could never accept. It was quite sad, really ...

  Nicholas motioned toward the cabin behind them. “They’re finished with the grave,” he said somberly.

  She turned and he placed his arm across her back as they walked to the graves that lie at the far side of the cabin. While she approached the dilapidated, time-ravaged log structure, she could hear the bright and happy laughter in the echoing of her memory, and could almost feel the sunshine touching her, warm in the broken fragments of her childhood recollections. But, the reality was that this was all gone to her now, being a place of the past.

  They reached the graves, two freshly clipped having been overgrown by brush with the years, and one freshly dug, the new marble headstone listing the beloved names of Tavis, Aria, and Jencin Hamilton.

  Her father, mother and brother lie in the ground before her. Nicholas had told the authorities to preserve her father’s body until their investigation was done, having had a feeling—when he had taken care of the arrangements for her that day on his ship—that she might one day regret not properly laying him to rest. She was thankful for his insight, for her father’s body did belong here, next to his wife and son. They all were gone now ... but their spirits lived on.

  Her papa had wanted her to live free without fear, to give her a normal life with a husband and babies, and he had died for his wish. If she hadn’t gone to his estate that day, perhaps he would still be alive ... or perhaps not. She believed that one’s death was planned at one’s birth, and only the Maker knew the duration of a life—and the reasons for the existence.

  “My papa came to me when I was in the coma,” she said to Nicholas, who stood thoughtfully by her side. “He said, ‘Gunnar will come for you. He will not succeed.’ I couldn’t have known that. I didn’t even know that Gunnar existed—except for sometimes I found myself looking over my shoulder. Papa didn’t want to worry me, that there was someone from his past after him. He protected me, even beyond death.”

  “I believe it,” Nicholas said quietly. “I wouldn’t have known where to find you, had you not said Gunnar’s name in your coma. But, maybe it isn’t so hard to believe. We do live on.”

  As if hearing a summons, a misty gust of wind came up, rushing over the graves. She sensed her family’s spirits—showing her that they lived in the afterlife—filling her with a moment of peace.

  Nicholas felt it also, and lifted a golden brow at her. He left a moment and returned from his auto with the pale-blue roses they had brought to lay on their graves. He gave the blooms to her and she bent at each mound, carefully giving her respect. When her arms were empty, she rose and stared unseeingly down, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

  “Good-bye Papa ... Mama ... Jencin ...” she whispered. “See you later.”

  Nicholas wiped a tear from his own eye while he led her toward his auto. The crew who handled the burial was preparing to leave, and he waved to them his thanks. He helped Skye into her seat and walked around to get into his own, heading off to their next task at hand, the straightening of her accounts.

  “Skye, we don’t have to do the bank today,” he said, understanding her mood.

  “No,” she replied, recovering from her emotion. “I’m all right. I want to. I want to see what he put in the safe box. My accounts should be open to me by now, right? They’re done with their investigation of his death.”

  Nicholas sighed. He didn’t
want to tell her, but he did want to be honest with her, for all of the trouble his lies had caused him in the past. “Uh ... your accounts have been open to you since the night you left Royce’s party.”

  Skye was confused. “But, how can that be? And how do you know? Unless ... unless you had something to do with it.”

  “I had them free them for you,” he said, and mentally braced himself.

  “But you said that those matters were out of your hands.” Skye felt her ire rising. “So you could have done that at any time?”

  “Well, Skye, I really didn’t want you to get away. I didn’t know that you really didn’t need them. But, geeeze, girl, you have more money than God has halos! Sorry ...”

  Skye was miffed, but also had an odd sense of euphoria. “So you wanted me to be helpless and at your whims. That wasn’t very nice.”

  “Well, now look. Since that’s how Gunnar found your father, by tracing him through his purchases, had you used yours, he might have found you sooner. I could have saved your life by not helping you back then ... hmmm?”

  Although this was true, Skye let out a disgusted sound. She had already forgiven him, but he didn’t need to know that, just yet ...

  When they arrived at the bank in Dakota, she gave him a soft smile, rewarding him for his honesty, at least. He exhaled in his relief, glad to be forgiven. He ushered her through the bank’s doorway, to the counter where the dark-haired woman sat. The surprised woman remembered her, and her reaction was very different this time, seeing the prince.

  “Oh, Your Royal Highness! Miss Williams! What can I do for you?”

  “I’m here for my safe box,” Skye replied.

  “Certainly!”

  Skye placed her thumb in the slot, having no problem this time accessing her accounts. The woman left a moment into a back room, returning with a rectangular black box. Skye pressed her thumb on the lock and the box opened.

  She had always expected something monumental to be in this container, hoping that it was a good kind of Pandora’s box that had the answers for all of her life’s mysteries. Inside were two golden rings—her mother and father’s wedding bands—a little stuffed bear named ‘Andy’—what had been Jencin’s favorite toy—and two computer cards. The cards may answer all the mysteries, but the keepsakes themselves were monumental, things she would always cherish.

  On the way back to the palace, she watched the cards on the viewer in the auto’s dash. The first card had a detailed report on her parents’ finances, her mother having been wealthy and a descendent of the Norwegian aristocracy, and her father rich in his own right, being very creative and a wizard in lucrative artistic endeavors and investments. They both abandoned their prestigious lives on Earth and brought their wealth with them to Adriel, but they chose to live like paupers—whether forced to by Gunnar, or not—knowing that the secret to true happiness wasn’t of the material sense. And now all that affluence fell to her, but the concept was lost upon her, for she knew the secret, as well.

  Nicholas kept one eye on the helm and the other on the viewer. “Like I said—more money than halos. Did you know about that?”

  She nodded. “I always suspected, but maybe not quite that much, though.”

  “Imagine that,” he uttered.

  The second card instantly brought a tear to her eye, for it was a movie of her family taken shortly before her mother and brother’s deaths. At last she could see their faces and didn’t have to rely on her faded memory. Her mama was beautiful, having long golden hair and blue eyes, and a vibrancy in her smile. Jencin was very cute, a toddler with curly red locks, bouncing around as one who clearly enjoyed mischief. She herself was loveable, looking like a ragamuffin in her dirty blue shirt and leggings. Her papa was robust and happy, rollicking after them, everyone being silly in their play.

  Nicholas laughed, amused. “You were a cute little spitfire,” he teased. “A tomboy if I ever saw one. And look at you now,” he praised, and rolled his tongue in an appreciative growl.

  He saw her face and became serious. “You look like her. She was very beautiful. Kind of hard to watch?”

  She shook her head but said, “Yes—no. It’s all just memories ...”

  Nicholas nodded and reached over to take her hand, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  Later that night, when they were naked in his bed, he was contented just to hold her and let her adjust to the events of the day. He drifted off into sleep but she was thoughtful, her mind drifting from the present to the past, finding something else that her father had told her while she was comatose.

  He had said that the blond-haired, blue-eyed man would always be with her. She would never be alone.

  Who was she, to deny her own destiny?

  ***

  Skye woke the next morning feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from her. She had laid her father to rest—she had put her past to rest—and she was the benefactor of all the peace that closure brings. The day was new and the future bright. She didn’t want to miss a moment, and would make the most of every one.

  Nicholas had risen early and had left her a message on the foyer’s board. “Mornin’, spitfire!” he greeted. “I have a few errands to run—have something planned. It’s a surpriiiiissse ... See you soon.”

  He paused and then he said, “You know who I am by now, I hope.”

  Skye smiled, eager for her surprise. She went to her rooms, and bathed and donned a coral-pink dress. She had her breakfast, idly passing the time. It was shortly before noon when Marion came to her door, holding an envelope and sporting a wide, toothy grin.

  “Nicholas wanted me to give you this,” she said, handing her the envelope and leaving without another word, mysterious in her departure.

  Intrigued, Skye pulled out the card. On the white parchment were the handwritten words, penned by Nicholas:

  ‘Sweet Skye,

  You’re off on a hunt, whether you like it, or not. I request the honor of your presence at a picnic, but you have to find me, first. Go to the main floor of the Northern Realm, to the furthest exit toward the sea, and there will be a card with further instructions. Curious?’

  Skye was curious, and she took the elevator down, hurrying to the exit. There, on a bench that lined a row of tall ornate windows, she spied the card. On the outside were the words: ‘Found it!’ And, on the inside, was: ‘Good job, girl! Now, go out the doors and turn to your left. Go to the grove and onto the path. There you will find a blue box.’

  She went through the doorway and down the steps, heading for the distant grove of trees. She made her way across the plush green lawns, to the entrance of the path, a walkway that had been chiseled through the dense growth. There she saw a small and pretty blue box, and she took it in hand, untying the elaborate bow.

  She was surprised to find a dainty sapphire and crystal broach inside, and another note:

  ‘This was my Grandmother Anna’s—now it’s yours to keep. Keep walking, and you’ll find what you seek.’

  Skye had no clue as to what he was planning, and she slipped the broach into her hip pocket and kept walking, finding another blue package at the base of a towering pine. This box was a bit bigger, and inside was a mist of a garment, a white and lacy negligee so transparent that it brought heat to her cheeks. This note said:

  ‘I have to see you in this—sheer bliss! There’s more ... for sure ...’

  She brought this package with her, moving off down the path. The next box waiting for her had a delicate and elegant golden chain inside, and another note:

  ‘This is my mother’s—she’s loaned it to you. Onward, to the something blue.’

  Skye caught on, then. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue ...

  The elation that struck her took her breath away. She recovered quickly and ran the rest of the way, the gentle slope ending in a long and wide tufted beach, the shimmering Aurora Sea stretching out endlessly.

  She stopped when seeing Nicholas, not wanting to appe
ar too eager. He stood a ways off at the surf, his back toward her, his shoulder-length blond hair shining and free, his blue leggings drawn up to his knees, his calves and feet bare while he enjoyed the sea. She approached him and he sensed her presence and turned, giving to her the impish smile in his blue-green eyes.

  “I see you’ve found my trail,” he said. “And look—it led to me.”

  He took the packages from her arms and moved to a white blanket that was spread safely away from the waves. On the spread were a brown woven picnic basket and a travel bag, and he placed the packages down beside them, straightening to eye her, calculatedly.

  “Take off your shoes,” he urged. “The water’s warm ...”

  Skye slipped off her shoes, anticipating what was to come. She loved the feel of the sand between her toes as he took her hand and led her into the surf, the balmy foam rolling gently in upon her ankles. He came up behind her and folded his arms across the swell of her breasts, turning her around to face the land.

  After a moment of savoring her presence, he said, “This is one of my properties, bequeathed to me on my birth. It’s fifty acres—give or take an inch, or two. I didn’t really see a use for it before, but now I can see a house, up over there ...“

  He pointed up to the gentle rise of the hill, and returned his arm to her breast. “It’s a simple house made of logs, or whatever you’d like, overlooking the sea. Every morning we could go out on the terrace and greet the day, and every night we could watch the sunset. Can you see it, too?”

  Skye nodded, breathlessly.

  “It’s a beautiful place. We could build a cabin ourselves, if we want to. It’s very near the palace, but protected and secluded. Laughter and warmth ... maybe the pitter-patter of little feet—eventually,” he was quick to add. “Does that sound good to you?”

  She nodded again.

  “Now, Skye,” he said, seriously. “You should know by now that I can’t be with another woman. My body ... won’t let me, and I don’t want to. I only want to be with you.”