He scowled. “No, I’m not ‘got’! She just ... she doesn’t even like me—she hates me.”
“Hates you? What did you do?”
“I guess I lied to her.”
His father nodded, knowingly. “Give it time. Let her heal. One fact you’ll learn real soon is that women don’t like being lied to. And this one,”—he glanced at the slumbering girl—“I’ve a feeling will most certainly teach you that.”
Nicholas scowled again. “I’m not got!”
His father smiled wryly. “Fight it all you want, but it won’t do you any good. The sooner you accept it, the better off you’ll be.”
Nicholas senior drew his boy into a quick hug, clapping him on the back, commiserating with him in his plight. He pulled away and headed for the door.
He paused and said, “When you want to talk about it, I’m here. She’ll be fine,” he added with his confidence, and moved out the doorway, leaving him alone with his future bride.
Nicholas returned to his chair at her side. He knew that his father spoke from experience, and that he had an abundance of knowledge about a great many things. He’d never known him to be wrong, once he spoke about a matter.
“Dammit,” he uttered, and he hung his head again.
He prayed to the Lord in Heaven, to give him his Skye back. That’s all that mattered now ...
Ruthie, a senior medic, came in to check on her condition. The middle-aged, rather frumpy woman smiled at him compassionately. He knew her quite well, her having set many of his bones that were broken in his reckless youth. Her dark eyes weighed him a moment before she went about checking on her comatose patient.
“Nicholas,” she considered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. She must mean a lot to you.”
“She’s just a girl,” he uttered hoarsely.
Ruthie nodded, unconvinced. She took the UPM, the Universal Pain Meter, in hand—a thin metallic instrument that was about a foot long—that monitored the depths of pain. She raised it above Skye’s head and passed it over her in a slow sweep. The UPM flashed in a blue light as it took an image of the pain center of the brain, monitored the activity there, and converted the levels and wavelengths into numbers. It used a scale of one to ten, ten being near death and one being considered normal.
“How is she?” Nicholas asked anxiously.
Ruthie looked at the number that came onto the UPM’s small viewer. “Well, she’s still at an eight. She’s resting well, though.”
She checked her patient’s bedding and turned to look at him, sympathetically. “I know you’re going to stay here tonight, Nicholas. You can go and stretch out beside her and hold her—just be careful. No funny business. Just remember that she’s monitored.”
With a wink, Ruthie turned down the lights in the room and left him alone with her.
Nicholas moved to lie down aside her, carefully taking her into his arms, cautious about not disturbing the nutrition tube that was in her arm. He gently placed her head against his breast, comforted by her feel, and it wasn’t long before his exhaustion overtook him.
He woke a few hours later, being in the same position as when he had fallen asleep. Anxiously, he checked the pulse at her nape, making sure that she still lived, and sighed in his relief when the steady beat was there. Cautiously he rose, laying her back down gently. He looked down on her pale and beautiful face, and he wanted to awaken her—but she was not there.
Deep thought consumed him while he moved aimlessly around the darkened room. He thought about his life and all that he had accomplished, and wondered what it all mattered. He had been born and he would die one day—and so what? What really was the point of it all?
He thought about how he had come into this world, of his parents and of his esteemed life. He knew the illustrious tale well, of how his parents had met ...
Twenty-six years ago, his mother, Sarra, had been the princess royal, the last in the royal bloodline of his Grandfather Ellis and Grandmother Anna. His father was the commander of the rebel band, the ‘Revolutionaries’, using the alias, ‘Raine Nicks’. He had abducted her, to use her as a bargain to uncover the corruption that was deep within the monarchy—the King’s Advisors were making slaves of the rainbow miners for their own illicit gain. His paternal grandfather, Royce Tyler, had tried to expose the slavery to all of Adriel, and the advisors had poisoned him at Tyler Oaks, along with all of his kin except for ‘Raine’ who escaped, bent on vengeance. Unbeknownst to Raine, Sarra was naive to the corruption—and so was the monarch. He had hated her, believing that she was the fruit of an evil sovereignty.
They were instant foes. Sarra believed that the Revolutionaries were savage men, intent on destroying the sovereignty for the riches of the rainbow mines. His parents had a tumultuous beginning, unable to resist each other sexually while still being consumed by their hate. A rebel antagonist further complicated matters by trying to expose Sarra’s whereabouts to the king, in his quest for the Throne. Raine—while waiting to fulfill his ransom demands of the illegal M-5 weaponry, to wage his war—had to keep her on the move ... taking her from Myrrh to Kan, and then to Adriel, and in that time he fell in love with her, a love that he despised.
Somewhere within all that pandemonium, he was conceived. He was the product of great hate but also of great love. When they realized that they were allies fighting the same cause, they married, and his father set into motion the war that destroyed the corrupt in the government, freeing Adriel from oppression. After the death of King Ellis The Second, his mother became the sovereign, and he was born. For twenty-five years, Adriel had known peace and prosperity. The love that his parents had grew stronger every day.
And here he was, Heir Apparent to the Throne. Someday, he would become the king, a thought he didn’t like to dwell upon. He liked to think that he ‘might’ become king, that his mother would outlive him. His mother was still young, with a health and vitality that most women could only dream about. She didn’t pressure him about producing heirs, trying to let him live his life ... but the thought was always there. It nagged at him that he must take a princess someday and carry on the line. One woman ... Responsibilities ... Babies ...
He looked down on Skye, her off in what seemed to be a peaceful sleep. As he stared, he had a curious feeling unlike any he'd had before—a surge of euphoric well-being ... and then a wave of fear ...
He went to sit in the chair by her bedside, taking her warm hand in his and hanging his head.
***
Three days had past, and this was the day that Nicholas had been waiting for. In but a few hours they would wake Skye from her sleep. These three days seemed to be the longest of his life, and he'd had too much time to think, to fear and to worry—and to hope. But, at least now he knew that she would live, and he would find a way to keep her by his side.
Her pain level had finally come down to a tolerable point. They would wake her and she would be weak, and he would be hit with her hatred of him. But now she would have no choice but to let him explain—she couldn’t run from him now.
Or, maybe she would forget about all of his lies and they could start anew?
Nicholas held on to that hope as the minutes dragged on. His mother came into the room, bringing him a steaming mug of coffee. He rose from his chair and gratefully took it from her hands.
Worried, she said, “I’m sending a plate to you. You have to eat.”
He shrugged and returned to his chair. His mother had looked in on him often these past days, in concern for her son. But he hadn’t had the want of food, his belly being twisted in knots, now that the guilt had set in. He truly was responsible for this; if he hadn’t left Skye that day, this wouldn’t have happened to her.
His mother sensed his guilt. “Now, Nicholas,” she said softly. “You have to know that this wasn’t your fault. Stra Akka would have found her no matter where she was.”
“He found her on my watch,” he said simply. Tightly he asked, “How is that beast doing?”
>
“He’s in his cell,” she replied. “He still won’t talk. And no, you still cannot pay him a visit.”
He wanted to. He longed to wring his neck—not with a coward’s brutal collar, but with his bare hands.
His mother placed her hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her serene dark-blue eyes. She smiled, comfortingly.
“Now look,” she urged. “The medics will wake her tonight. She’ll be fine. You’ll have a brand new life ahead.”
He looked again at Skye, anticipating seeing those sparkling violet-blue eyes.
His mother patted his shoulder and headed for the door. “Eat the plate I’m sending. It’s steak and eggs,” she tempted, knowing that it was one of his favorites.
Nicholas couldn’t eat the plate when it arrived on a tray in a servant’s arms. He thanked the woman and told her to take it away, and went back to wait for the moment.
At last the time came. The medics came in and checked her level with the UPM, and found it to be within the normal span of ‘one’. They injected her with an airy stream of medication, beginning to awaken her.
He felt a rush of his adrenaline and moved to her bedside, to make sure that his was the first smiling face that she saw ...
Chapter 13
“Skye ...”
Skye rose out of the deep waves of sleep, realizing that Nick was saying her name, prompting her to wake. She was in his arms and on the planet Myrrh, and last night the moon, Eos, had been full and glowing. She smiled, reaching for his cheek, and discovered that he was not beside her on the bed. Her lashes fluttered and her vision cleared and she saw his face looming above her. He was standing at the bedside, smiling down on her, searching her eyes as if he saw a wondrous sight within them.
He grasped her hand and held it tightly. “Skye,” he uttered hoarsely.
Skye gasped, discovering that they weren’t alone in the room. Her vision panned out and she saw many other faces, the people wearing white medic coats and smiling down on her. Startled, she tried to back away from them, lost and confused as to what was happening. Their mood was light and merry, and she distinctly felt that she was the cause.
An authoritative dark-haired woman broke through the crowd, shooing them away. “All right, everybody,” she said warmly. “You’ve all seen the miracle. Now get out and let her adjust. You’re scaring her to death.”
The medics filed out of the room, congratulating each other on their success, until only Nick and the woman remained with her.
Nick let go of her hand and moved to clap his hand down on the woman’s broad shoulder. “Ruthie, what is this about a ‘miracle’?” he asked stiffly.
“Well, we really didn’t know,” she confessed. “It was touch and go, especially when you brought her in—we had to bring her back three times. Sometimes it’s the strong belief of others that makes them want to stick around.”
Nick rolled his eyes and looked as though he wanted to swat the woman, for keeping from him how close to death she truly had been.
Skye’s eyes were wide as she looked up at the medic who calmly studied her.
Ruthie turned to Nick and said, “We’ve a few more tests to run. But I’ve a strong feeling that she’s as good as new.”
Skye was completely bewildered—they were speaking as though she wasn’t even here! Was she here? Where was she?
What was happening!
She must have made a sound because their attention snapped back to her.
“What ...?” she breathed out.
Nick hurried over and plopped into the chair beside her, taking her hand into both of his.
“Skye,” he said, his voice shaky. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”
Ruthie headed for the door. “I’ll leave you two alone a moment—but you can’t stay too long, Nicholas. She needs her rest. Call, if you need me.”
When they were alone in the silence, Skye could do nothing except stare at him, seeing the relief and awe in his blue-green eyes.
Softly he said, “I feared that I had lost you.”
Skye swallowed hard. “What happened?” she asked weakly.
“You don’t remember anything?” he asked, suddenly concerned that he must call Ruthie to her again.
Her memory was a jumble of fragmented images, but then the pieces began to fall into place. She remembered the Trobin, and the collar—and the agony.
“Stra Akka!” she murmured.
Nicholas exhaled in relief. His Skye was here, again.
“Yes,” he said. “You didn’t kill him on Strou—you just maimed him. Oh, and remind me never to cross you,” he teased, shuddering to think of how she had maimed him. “But, he deserved worse.”
She didn’t smile, her being in confusion, and he reached up and took the protective white cap off her, freeing her red-gold hair. He savored a soft tress between his fingertips, content to do just that.
Her questions began to come to her while she looked around the small and sterile medical room.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re safe,” he replied. “Stra Akka can never hurt you again.”
“But I left him there, on Strou. How did he find me?”
“The medics found a tracking device that he had implanted in your hand. They removed it.”
Skye looked at her hand and recalled the injection that Stra Akka had given her on the cargo ship. She had awaited the drug’s effects, but they never came. So that had been what it was!
The creature had been searching for her in his vengeance, and meant to kill her when he found her. He would never stop ... “Where is Stra Akka now?” she asked, her fear clear in her voice.
“He’s locked in a cell with the tightest security—don’t you worry,” he assured. “He can’t get at you again.”
She wasn’t so certain. She felt an impending doom, and then realized why she had the feeling. She recalled what had happened before Stra Akka had arrived. Nick’s lies ... their heated words ...
He recalled that, also. He rubbed her hand a moment and said, “Now, Skye, you have to listen to me. Let me explain.”
She looked up at him, with her hurt very clear in her violet-blue eyes. He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue.
“Audrey is not my girlfriend. She’s just an aristocratic little girl who pesters me—and that’s that. It is true, though, that I did lie to you. That estate is mine, but ... well, I’m sometimes a friend to myself—although sometimes my own worst enemy—so it wasn’t a total lie. My friend does own it ...”
He trailed off, seeing from her blank expression that his excuses weren’t working. He’d try a different approach.
“See, I’m not exactly an adventurer—although I do like adventure—but I didn’t want to tell you, just yet, that I have wealth. Well, look at you—you lied to me on Myrrh about being a gold digger ...”
This approach wasn’t working, either. She wasn’t going to let him turn his guilt around and make it all her fault.
He sighed and then he said, “I thought that in time you’d want to stay in that house with me.”
She had an epigram for him. “You mean that whorehouse? Where your ‘friend’ had all those hell-a-cious parties?”
He winced, unable to find a way out of that one. He'd had but one rule to follow at his bashes—no viewers, or there would be hell to pay.
“Well, Skye ... I don’t know what to say about that. Do you really hate me that much, for that?”
She lifted her shoulders weakly in a shrug. “It’s what you are.”
“It’s what I am?” he repeated.
She nodded.
He was offended. “I’m a little more than just a party monger, Skye.”
“You are?” she asked, innocently.
He nodded.
“Who are you, then?”
Skye simply quit her denial. She already knew, but she wanted to hear him say it. It would be the final blow in how he had made a fool of her, using her as his unsuspecting, common toy.
The Prince Royal of Adriel was not a true and noble man as his worldly image portrayed. He was a base and lecherous rogue.
“Who are you?” she asked again, patiently awaiting his response.
“Well, Skye ... I wanted to tell you. People are different around me, and I didn’t want you to ... You knew me for me ... I thought ...”
“Say it!” she demanded.
“I’m the prince royal,” he admitted, and guiltily hung his head.
Skye couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. “You make me out to be a fool for trusting you?”
“No, Skye, you can trust me—you can! I—“
She laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Go away,” she said solemnly.
“Skye, no don’t ...” he pleaded.
She turned her face away from him. After a long moment, he rose and slowly moved from the room.
Nicholas went to Ruthie and told her to look in on her. Dejected, he went off to the comfort of his suite.
When there, he couldn’t stop pacing, thinking about how that wasn’t what he had wanted to say to her, at all ...
Not quite a half an hour later, he headed back to the medical ward, to try again. Ruthie stopped him at Skye’s door. She was concerned.
“Nicholas, what did you do to her?” she accused.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Now we have a despondent patient—not good for her recovery. She doesn’t want to see you.”
Skye wouldn’t dare deny him that! “I’ll make her see me,” he promised angrily, trying to get by Ruthie’s husky frame.
“No, you don’t!” she protested. “I think it’s best that you stay away from her, at least for a day or two, until she recovers. Stay away!”
Nicholas wasn’t one to obey orders ...
“I mean it!” she warned. “If you care about her, you will.”
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head, maddened. “Tell her I’ll be back!” he commanded, and went off to the Athletic Room to lay his fists on the punching bag.
After releasing his frustration there, he could think clearer, to plot his next move. He thought of his mother and of her wisdom in how she handled trouble. Perhaps she would know of a way ...
The Princess of the Wild (The Royals of Adriel Book 2) Page 14
