Her monthly cycle was overdue. It had crossed her mind—about a week ago—that she was late, but she had shrugged it off, thinking that it was due to the effects of stress. There was no cause for alarm, for she had been late before. But then, she had never been with a man …
“No!” she gasped. “Don’t even think of it!”
Comforted by the fact that her waist was still flat, she pushed the suspicion aside, lest she become terrified.
The following day, Sarra swam off her tension in the suite’s pool. Naked, she soared through the clear blue water until her strength waned. She stepped out onto the fitness room’s padded floor and dried herself off with a huge downy towel. She dressed—this morning she had been pleased to find a yellow dress on the lounge, along with other garments, though they all were wrinkled for how her spiteful keeper had left them there. She took the pins from her hair and sat on a long and flat chair to comb out the thick mass. She realized that she had become quite skillful at caring for herself. Her lack of servants had forced her to find a new independence—but she could thank Raine, for that.
She let out a strangled sound and flounced backward. She didn’t want to remember him, but he invaded her every thought. But he never would return, and she had best stop hoping. Although she missed him desperately, wasn’t there a lifetime of that ahead?
Sarra stared at the invisible dome above, at the white clouds that floated across the azure sky, at the haunting images they made.
“How can I forget him when even the clouds come together to make his face?”
When a slight scuffling caught her ear, she turned and saw Cronala hurrying away. She sat up quickly, so tired of her own company that even an unpleasant presence would do. “You!” she called. “Come here!”
Cronala stiffened, and then turned around slowly and stalked near, her contempt clear on her face. She wore a black one-piece swimsuit and carried a towel, having been in want of the pool before seeing who used it. She stopped a good distance away, as if not quite wanting—or daring—to get too close.
Testily, Sarra said, “The FAS sure are taking their time in rescuing me. What—did Raine give them the wrong address?”
Cronala peered at her, suspiciously. “The FAS? What do you mean?”
“He left me almost three days ago. How big of a head start does he need?”
The woman’s dark eyes lit up with vengeance. “You think that they will let you be rescued? And leave me here to be captured? No, you won’t get back to your palace that soon!”
As Cronala laughed maliciously, Sarra hid her joy behind a show of disappointment. A great weight lifted from her. She had been so preoccupied with her anxiety that the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Of course the men would be back! Darius would never leave his woman behind … would he? “When will Raine return?” she asked.
“How should I know? Why? Are you eager to bed him again?”
Sarra’s eyes widened.
“Ohhhh, don’t look so innocent! Darius told me all about it. I would never have dreamt that Ni—Raine would stoop so low to dirty himself with your kind! But, I guess when the stud smells the bitch, it doesn’t matter if she’s a royal bitch!”
Her heart began thumping and she dug her long nails into her palms. “Jealous?” she quipped.
“Hardly! Raine would have me, but he values his friendship with Darius.”
A wave of fury washed over Sarra as she had an image of him with her. “You esteem yourself too highly. He can do better than a common tramp.”
“A tramp! I’d rather be that than you! The child of a corrupt, evil stench …”
Sarra rose slowly to her feet, her limbs tense and ready for battle.
“It’s true!” the woman cried, refusing to be intimidated. “I am so glad that I do not live here under King Ellis!”
“It is well that you don’t, Cronala,” she said quietly. “My father is a glorious man, but he has no patience with your breed.”
“Oh—surely he’d kill me, just like he does with his own innocent subjects?”
“He is just,” she replied simply.
“Hah! Ooooo—you think that everything on Adriel is good! The pampered princess, getting all that you desire! So high and mighty! You don’t know about a thing except how to wallow in luxury!”
“I’ve seen the common life,” Sarra said tightly.
“What would you know about it? With a nod of your head you can have a man executed for nothing more than a wrong glance! Ah, but your father—he is less bold! He resorts to trickery, destroying his enemies like a coward!”
Sarra’s adrenaline surged through her. It was all that she could do to keep her temper in check. “If you have a quarrel with the king, you take it to him. I will not let such a person slander him in my presence!”
“Oh—oh—your presence,” Cronala sneered, falling briefly into a mock curtsy. “You think that you are perfect! Well, you’re not! How will you explain it—with lies, I’m sure! If only the subjects could know the truth about their princess! What would Lord Gray say about his betrothed sleeping with a commoner? Tsk, Tsk! And, how will you tell your father that you willingly fell into bed with your abductor? That his precious daughter is no better than a whore!”
Sarra shot her hands to her hips and took two steps nearer. Startled, Cronala hastily moved back, but then held her ground.
Sarra mocked, “How do you live with yourself? You’re entirely without grace, without pleasantry. You must have been abandoned as an infant, left in the care of beasts. But, you are with sophisticated Humans, now. How I pity Darius—honestly, he must really be desperate.”
The woman seemed flustered, at a loss for verbal ammunition.
“I’ve dealt with all kinds, and now even the lowest,” Sarra pressed. “I understand why you don’t know how to behave in a royal presence—simple guidance is all you need. You should be down on your knees before me. Why don’t you try it?”
Cronala gasped. “Never! I’d kill myself first!”
“That would do, as well.”
“Ooooooo! You are wicked! I’d kill you if Darius would let me!”
“Well? He isn’t here now, is he? Why don’t you try?”
“You’re not worth the trouble!”
“No trouble. What chance would a pampered little princess have against a savage barbarian?”
“A barbarian!”
“A savage barbarian.”
“You’re … a royal!” Cronala jeered.
“Why, commoner—are you learning some respect?”
“You are a fool!” she raged.
“Talking to yourself?”
“You’re addle-brained!”
“At least I have something, up there.”
“Yes! Conceit!”
“Better than your narcissism.”
“Ooooo! You’re rude!”
“That’s strange, coming from one so vulgar.”
“You’re ugly!”
Sarra lifted a golden eyebrow. “Jealous?”
Cronala came nearer, her dark eyes flashing with hatred. “Of what?”
“Looked in the mirror, lately?”
The woman stamped her bare foot. “You think you are so special! And that every man adores you! I have news! Raine doesn’t respect you—you are just his toy, a plaything to amuse himself with! I bet you believe that he cares!”
Sarra hid her surprise. “I know a bit more about him than you do.”
“Is that so? Ah, the two of you are alike—you’re both an ass! But I know him, and what you are to him. His whore! The princess royal, a Revolutionary’s whore!”
Sarra had had it. Her temper won. “Bitch!” she hissed. “You are a childish, haughty, deranged little bitch!”
Sarra had suspected an assault, but was unprepared when it came. The woman charged at her, knocking her backward with such force that it took the breath from her. They tumbled across the chair and onto the firm mats, and Cronala was the victor, ending up on top. Sarra regained her wit
s, feeling the blows on her cheeks, and sent her own fist into the woman’s jaw. Her attacker cried out in agony. In that instant Sarra fiercely kicked and vaulted upward. She scrambled away, desperate to escape the lunatic, but then was astonished to find herself flying for the pool.
She met the water with a splash that set her every skin cell aching. Helpless, she sank down briefly into the cool, clear blue, and then pushed for the surface. Her pursuer was there, a form lost within the frothy bubbles. Sarra prayed, and perceived that she might actually get away … until her arm was captured. A relentless force pressed on her head, sending her further down into the abyss. Her long wet hair and dress twisted and twirled about her while she struggled, in dire need of freedom, of oxygen. All of the terror and panic that came to her heart also came into her limbs. She used her long nails like knives, slashing her oppressor wherever she could … and then she was above it all, gasping for blessed air.
Cronala shot up from the water. Vengeful, Sarra groped and drove her foe’s head far under. After a second time, she swam away, having no desire to become a murderess. But then she feared that she might be murdered. The woman sprang onto her, bringing her down again. They rolled while they fought, until Sarra—in a surge of fury—managed to send her knee into the thin waist. She then was free to make it to the pool’s edge. But, before she could get out, she was hit with a flood, and she slipped. She caught the railing and clung for dear life. Cronala was frenzied, determined to pull her back in. As the royal foot impacted on the dark brow, the princess won the battle.
A safe distance away from the pool, Sarra collapsed. Her chest heaved like she had run for miles—her breathing wasn’t there. Before she caught it, she discovered that the war wasn’t over. The girl was back for more.
Sarra had never experienced a fistfight before and she had never dreamt that she ever would. It amazed her—like it had when they had fought on Myrrh—how such a lanky frame could be so strong. Although clearly exhausted, the woman would not give up.
The two opponents circled each other, crawling on their hands and knees, striking when it was reasonably safe that the other’s retaliation wouldn’t be greater. Involuntary tears came to Sarra’s cheeks when her rival’s fist met the targets, but Cronala wasn’t without her own share of pain. Sarra matched the glower in the brown eyes, although she feared that she might drop.
“Witch!” Cronala wheezed. “Look what you did to me! Your nails—they’re like swords!”
Sarra paused to see the long, red marks on the dark arms and thighs. She felt no remorse. “You tried to drown me!”
“I would’ve, too!”
“I would have drowned you!”
“I hate you!”
“The feeling is mutual!” Sarra shouted.
“No! I hate you more!”
“There’s no possible way that you could!”
“I despise you!”
“I—”
Sarra wasn’t sure what possessed her. Perhaps, all of the whacks had addled her head. Perhaps, it was the ridiculousness of it all, crawling about like animals, trying to decide who loathed whom more. Whatever the cause, something struck her as humorous. She fell down and began to laugh. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.
Cronala backed away, eyeing her warily. “What? What is so funny?”
The sight of her enemy wasn’t so imposing now—it was comical. The Arab’s wet black hair was plastered to her cheeks, framing her dumbfounded expression.
“Have you lost your mind?” Cronala uttered.
Sarra slammed the floor with her fists, out of control in her delirium.
Sarra had heard it said that emotion is contagious—and this was true. After a time, a puzzled Cronala started to chuckle—first at her, and then with her. It was evident that laughter wasn’t commonplace within her personality, but it wasn’t long before she mastered the joys of merriment.
When her belly could take no more abuse, Sarra wiped the tears from her eyes and sat up, feeling oddly light-headed and relieved. Cronala worked to regain her composure also; she was the same way.
Sarra jested, “Let’s just say that we hate each other equally.”
Hesitantly, Cronala smiled. She was impressed by the princess’ bravery and strength. Perhaps she had judged her too harshly? Maybe the royal wasn’t as horrid as she had thought.
Sarra cautiously tested her sore, swelling face with her fingers. When seeing the woman quietly inspecting her scratches, she was troubled and appalled that she had done such damage. An awkward moment of silence passed, for the wall of malevolence had fallen, and both weren’t sure what was beyond.
Sarra murmured, “I … I guess I am rather envious of you.”
Cronala was surprised. “Envious—of me?”
“Yes. You can go anywhere—do anything that you want to. Your life is your own.”
The commoner had her own confession. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a princess,” she said, wistfully.
“It isn’t so grand,” Sarra said, and sighed. “Like having a world on your shoulders.” She paused, and then decided to say it. “Really, I want you to know that my father isn’t corrupt. But, so many people seem to think so. I’ll have to investigate it, to find out why.”
Cronala, for the moment, offered no clues.
As they went off to dress their wounds in an amiable—if guarded—alliance, Sarra privately contemplated the strange turn of events. She was certain that Raine would return, but she wanted him with her now, to sooth away her pain. But, she concluded that her bruises weren’t all bad. She suspected that, through them, she had found a friend.
***
Raine could hardly wait. He had left the princess five days ago, and they seemed to be the longest days of his life. Darius followed him into the guest suite, and they searched the bedchamber and bath before hearing voices. They strode through the doorway and stopped to gawk, and to wonder just what in hell’s name was going on.
Sarra and Cronala were at the table by the poolside, immersed in friendly conversation. Darius was astonished to hear his woman laugh and to see her wounds, but Raine was only aware of Sarra. She wore a tiny scarlet swimsuit that revealed too much of her beauty, and on those shapely curves were bruises of a like he’d never seen. They filled him with a worry he’d never known. He rushed toward her and she saw him. Her face lit up.
“Raine!” she cried.
When Sarra reached his embrace, she clung, wanting to never let go. He pulled away, his gaze rushing and roving all over her.
“What happened?” he rasped.
“Ummmm … nothing much,” she said, a light blush coming on her blackened cheeks. “We … had a little argument, didn’t we, Cronala?”
“That’s right.”
Raine saw the effects of the quarrel on Cronala. He exchanged expressions with Darius. The man shook his head and shrugged, stunned.
“But are you all right?” Raine asked, diligently.
Sarra nodded with an invitation in her sensual, dark-blue eyes.
Raine knew the look. He carefully grasped her wrist and led her on behind him. “Damned if I know!” he called to Darius.
Sarra marveled about the exhilaration that burst within her, an excitement she had lacked for almost a week. She didn’t know what the next dawn would bring, but she was sure about the night. With wholehearted abandon she welcomed him, loving his presence, breathless in their bed.
Chapter 20
The stars shone on Sarra’s eyelids as Raine’s kiss lit her universe. His hands were considerate upon her wounds, but it was the ache of her desire that tormented her more. Her wanton sexuality drove him into madness and he was quick to discard the red cloth, desperate to have her naked. He cherished their reunion, his fiery mood making their passion burn steadily like the sun.
“Sarra, Sarra …” he sighed in the afterglow, holding her close. Her heart was warmed, for she knew that he had missed her even though he didn’t want to. He no longer called her by her
title, he used her given name, and it was always like a caress, rich and ardent on her ear. Clearly, he saw her as a woman and not the symbol he so loathed. Their status—so opposite and complicated—just didn’t exist anymore.
Raine relished her blue rose scent, hoping to keep the intoxicating fragrance always in his nose. He recalled their first time, when he believed that having her once would quench his desire. But, instead of satisfying him, it had intensified his yearning. He craved her, now—the more he made love to her, the more he wanted her. She was like an addiction that had worked her way under his skin to become a part of him.
The past five days, when he had seen to the ransom situation, he had had his opportunities with other women. He amazed himself by turning them down. Although they were attractive enough, he would rather fantasize that he was with Sarra—another presence would only be in the way. Could he really be blamed? Who could compare with this beauty! Even so, the revelation had brought fire and chills into his belly. It was a new sensation that was elating, but he also hated it.
While he contemplated about how well she fit into the crook of his arm, he suspected that—no matter what was to come—his future wouldn’t be dull.
A frown began knitting Sarra’s brow as she remembered what Cronala had said, about Raine wanting her. Her head became cluttered with doubt, seeing horrible visions of him holding her this way.
“Would you ever bed Cronala?” she asked, bluntly.
“What?”
“Do you ever plan to have her?”
“Are you joking?”
She shook her head.
“No,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve no desire for Cronala. To me, she’s like a sister—a very bratty little sister. Why?”
Sarra relaxed, relieved. “No reason.”
“What’s going on with you two, anyway? When Darius and I left, you were mortal enemies.”
“We … came to see eye to eye. She’s really very nice, just misunderstood,” she replied, guessing that Cronala’s demeanor didn’t give her too many chances for feminine friendship.
“I must have done a lot of misunderstanding. You fascinate me. You could tame a savage beast.”
Queen of the Stars (The Royals of Adriel Book 1) Page 25
