Josh met him halfway and soon was close enough to talk.
“No,” he replied, his disappointment clear. “I saw her heading to the restroom a while ago, but I didn’t notice her going out, and now no one’s in there—Thomas had Leah check it out. Haven’t seen her since.” He moved closer, to say privately in his ear, “Hey, Nicholas, bring her with you to the dive next time, will you? I’d like to get a hold of that.”
Nicholas had an almost uncontrollable urge to slam Josh in his face as he thought of his Skye being subjected to that; he caught his temper. He gave his former comrade a withering glare and stalked off, on the search again, but now with a menacing dread gnawing at his insides. If she had fallen into the wrong hands ...
He commanded himself not to panic; nobody here would dare harm her. She was safe and around here, someplace ...
This wasn’t the way he wanted their night to be. She was supposed to be near him, on his arm while he showed the entire world that she was his. Instead, she had slipped away, and he couldn’t get back to her while she gave her affections to every other man. Audrey wasn’t helping matters, for he had sensed Skye’s anger. He sensed her jealousy and suspected that it was what was making her an irresistible heartbreaker—something else she was a master at. He must find her and explain to her once and for all that he had no interest in Audrey—if he could find her. She was here, somewhere ...
No matter what reassurances he gave to his head, he felt it in his craw that something was very wrong.
His apprehension grew while he searched for her, discovering that a full half-hour had past and there still was no sign of her. Suddenly, he had a hunch that she may have gone to her rooms. She, like he, could sometimes be more of a solitary sort. Perhaps the press of the crowd had become too much for her. Or, was she ill?
He hurried for her quarters, his anxiety high. Her door was unlocked and he entered the dark room, and he turned on the light, striding for her bed. What he saw there made him flinch in his surprise.
The gown she had worn tonight was there, spread out neatly on the bedding, along with all of the accessories, the delicate undergarments, the velvety wrap and shoes. He caught the statement they conveyed, the message she had left for him. He took the gown’s lavender softness in hand, his very worst fear confirmed.
“Awh, no,” he groaned.
She had left him.
“Why?” he uttered.
What had happened? Everything had been fine between them when they had danced, before the social necessities had taken her away. Had she found another she wanted in all of those many hopeful beaus? He quickly shot that fear down, since she wasn’t as flighty as that ... was she? She had abandoned the gown here in anger, as if he had done something to cause it, while all that he had done was to try to get back to her, but the subjects were demanding his attention—and so was that pest, Audrey.
Audrey. Had she said something to her?
The ire he had for her momentarily cut through his panic. He’d deal with her, later. Right now, he must find Skye. She couldn’t have gone far ...
He snatched his personal comm out from his hip pocket and called up security. Earlier, he had given the guard that he had placed on her the night off, believing that she wouldn’t try to run and that she would be with him. Now, he ordered that the guards watch every exit and gate, and search the palace grounds for her—as a possible missing person—but to do it covertly so as not to disrupt the party. They must locate her ...
He sprinted to the nearest elevator, impatiently awaiting its descent down the seven floors to the main floor. He hurried to the outdoors, scarcely aware of the fireworks that were popping out in the sky high above. He called out her name into the darkness, a futile attempt for he knew that she wouldn’t come to him, anyway. Still he called, his gaze roving the shadows until he accepted that it was hopeless for him to search. Security would catch her, and he would find who was responsible for this.
He set his steps back to the ballroom, to unleash his vengeance on Audrey.
There was no sign of her, either. He spied his mother amidst a group of ladies who were enjoying the fireworks, and he headed there, to her comfort.
She saw his face and guided him over to a quieter area where they could talk. “What’s wrong?” she asked, worried.
“Skye left me. I don’t know why—she just up and left.”
“How do you know that? What happened?”
“She left the dress that she was wearing tonight out on her bed. She was upset about something—I bet Audrey said something.”
His mother thought a moment, her brilliant blue eyes darkening.
“Oh, no,” she murmured. “That could be ...”
“What?” he urged anxiously.
“Well, Cronala and I were in the restroom earlier and we were talking about some of the guests—you know how she is about fashion. We were talking about Audrey, about how she was following you around like a lost puppy, and that I had to invite her, so as not to slight her father. Someone broke a decoration—like she had stumbled into it—and we thought that it was a drunk too embarrassed to come forward, and had a servant take care of it. But, if it was Skye, and she thought that we were talking about her ... We said some unflattering things about Audrey. Oh, dear ...”
“Mother!”
“But we weren’t talking about her!” she said in her defense. “I like Skye. We’d best find her.”
“I’ve alerted the guards,” he said stiffly, miffed that his own mother had done the damage.
“Can’t say a word,” she murmured, to herself. Then she nodded at him. “We’ll find her.”
The celebration was winding down and many of the guests were taking their leave, but still there was no word about Skye. He waited for his comm to buzz, to hear that a guard had found her, but the call didn’t come. He left the thinning ballroom, having another plan of attack, but one his parents might not approve of ...
He called up Nowel, a senior executive in the Capitol Department, waking him in his bed. He told him that it was crucial that he meet with him now. The man was reluctant to leave his sheets at this hour, but he respected who was making the request.
When Nowel promptly appeared at his office in the Capitol Department, a complex of buildings nearby the palace, Nicholas apologized to the disheveled, bleary-eyed man, and then got down to business.
“Nowel, I need a favor,” he said. “I need you to free up an account for me.”
“An account?” the man asked suspiciously, suddenly fearing for his continued employment—and his freedom.
“Hey, Nowel, this is me yer talking to!” he assured. “We’ll keep this our secret.”
Nowel sighed, for the contents of this office were highly classified with personal information and must remain strictly confidential. But, he had done this before for the prince, when he had wanted the specifics of a rival FAS cadet who turned out to be a shady character, and that had passed without incident. He sighed again as Nicholas gave him the details of the account he wanted access to. The account was locked under the murder investigation of the girl’s father, but the seniority of his department could free it. He sat down at his computer and did as he was told. In a matter of moments, he had his entry.
Nicholas was pleased. “Make it so she can access it from anywhere. And I need a track on it, and when she tries to use it, an immediate call.”
Nowel nodded. Nicholas smiled, smugly. If she were to make it out there into the world, she would have to try her accounts. He would know instantly where she was and he’d nab her from there.
Nowel browsed her information. “Who is this Skye Williams?” he asked. “A noble heiress? Never heard of her.”
Nicholas turned his attention to the viewer screen. He gawked at the information there, stunned. There were far too many digits for her simple account.
“There must be some mistake, here,” he uttered.
Nowel shook his head. “Not if it’s Skye Williams you want.”
&n
bsp; Nicholas thought of the irony of it all. She, in her own right, could have anything material that she desired—for all of her days. “I need more info on her. Take it from her birth.”
The man worked the panel, intrigued himself. He was curious with what he found. “There’s no record of her until she came onto this account, when she was six.”
“Try ‘Skye Hamilton’.”
He tried. “There’s no record for a Skye Hamilton.”
Nicholas frowned. She had no record of her birth? “Try ‘Tavis Hamilton’.”
The man complied. “There is a record of him. He became a citizen of Adriel back in Twenty-Two-Fifty-Five, coming from Earth. He married Aria Lovas, who was also from Earth. She was on the account also, until she died. The account was closed then. It was only active for six years.”
“And that’s when Tavis Williams opened his accounts?” he surmised.
Nowel nodded. “He transferred his funds under his new name. There’s something strange about it, though. Just recently he had changed his name back to Hamilton, shortly before his death. That’s why the investigators froze his accounts—his alias confused it—and because of the value, and that Skye was just a co-owner but now she will be the sole owner. And another strange thing about it is that—for all of his wealth—Hamilton never made a withdrawal until recently, when he bought an estate in Seascape.”
Nicholas quickly processed this new information. Her father had tried to keep her true identity secret from birth. Why? He also had incredible wealth but he chose to roam the countryside, living like a peasant with his daughter. Clearly, he had been running from someone, not even accessing his account for fear he would be detected. The investigators hadn’t yet found his killer. Could Skye be in danger from all of this? The sheer size of her accounts ...
Nowel was worried, again. “I need to remind you, Nicholas, that this information isn’t available to the subjects.”
Nicholas clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’re safe with me, Nowel. Thanks for the trust.”
He headed back to the palace, even more disturbed than before. The guests who weren’t staying the night had left—the songs ended, the halls quiet. He still hadn’t received the call from security. He doubted that she was hiding somewhere in the palace; she would have had time enough to run before he knew enough to alert security. It was a fact that he must accept.
She had slipped away.
In a few hours she would be famous, her lovely face gracing viewers all across Urania when the royal birthday clips were shown. The subjects would be eager to know who this mystery woman was, the one beside him in the royal reception line. But, she was supposed to be by his side to combat their assault of questions, not running off to God knows where. He couldn’t tell the world that his new ladylove had abandoned him.
But, he could put out an alert that she was missing and that the palace feared for her safety. He did fear for her safety, with her father’s killer on the loose.
He headed for his parents’ room, to run his plan by them. He couldn’t just sit and wait until she accessed her accounts, or until she was recognized. He must find her now. He had to hold her, to know that she was safe.
He sent out a plea to her from his core, begging for her to return. He hoped that he could reach her—prayed that she would know it in her soul to come home.
***
The faint glow of dawn lit the sky, the blue tint making the path clearer to Skye with every step she took. She had walked all night, putting as much distance between her and Queen’s Palace as possible. She was on her way to a sports shop, to get all that she would need for her survival. She would survive ...
She refused to feel, concentrating only on her determination to live another moment, and then the next. Every pang she had she pushed back into her throat, resolving not to spill another tear. Back in the palace, she had made it to her quarters, her rage fueling her haste while she stripped from her loathsome gown and its frills, down to her bare skin, tearing the fragile chain of gems from her hair and flinging it across the room. She flew to her wardrobe, locating her leggings and the practical shirt, and the suitable boots, and she hurried into them. She tossed a few changes of clothes into a travel bag, taking only the necessities, and grabbed a warm coat and cap. Quickly she pinned up her hair before the mirror and thrust on the soft black cap, watching the hatred in her violet-blue eyes. Then she was ready for her flight.
She had paused at the door, seeing the gown she had discarded on the floor. She took a moment to spread it out on the bed. Nicholas, being an intelligent—if emotionally stupid—man, might get the hint. She took off her earrings and necklace and put them into her bag. She would bring them with her, but only because she’d exchange them for her needs, since she couldn’t use her locked accounts. Everything else the royals had given her, she would leave behind.
She took the nearest exit, and when out in the dark she saw the fireworks exploding above, the lasers spelling out ‘Happy 20th Birthday Royce!’. She pitied the man, him having lived twenty years as a royal, an illusive and wicked condition that he—like his depraved brother—couldn’t escape. But, she could ...
She had easily slipped out the open security gate where a few other guests were leaving, the guards not checking the identities of those exiting the palace. She weaved her way through the parked autos, and when a safe distance away, she ran into the darkness lit only by the faint light of the moon, leaving the road and cutting across the glades. She ran until she could run no more, and then found a steady pace, to keep her strength. It was, after all, a long walk to Seascape City.
She had reached the outskirts of the city not quite an hour ago. For the most part, the streets were deserted, the day not yet begun. She found a public comm and went into there, to locate the nearest sports shop where she would get her camping gear. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long walk to the shop, and she was just about there ...
She would return to her wilds. There was nothing for her here.
Skye was the only one waiting when the merchant, a sleepy, elderly man, opened for business. She was quick but careful to find what she needed—the bed, the cookware, and a computer tablet—being an expert on keeping things light for her travels. On the way to the counter, she spied a Fireside guitar; she thought of her father and their songs. She took it in hand, bringing it with her.
There was a viewer behind the counter, playing a news segment from the royal celebration last night. She gasped, seeing her face there. Her own image was smiling, greeting the guests, by Nicholas’ side. A reporter was saying that she was being classified as a missing person—and that there was a reward out for any information leading to her safe return!
The merchant turned to watch the viewer, and she panicked and hurried up to the counter to capture his attention. He turned to her, distracted while she laid her items out for purchase.
He began tallying the price and she pulled her earrings out from her bag, keeping the necklace hidden. “Can I trade these for this?” she asked pleasantly, successfully hiding her nervousness.
His gray eyes widened on the lavender gems. “Why, yes!” he said, calculating that it was more than a fair exchange. Then his gaze weighed her, curious.
She explained, “I’m new around here. My account isn’t active, yet.”
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Myrrh,” she replied. “Grew up there. If you could, I also need a visitor’s pass for the transports.”
He was happy to comply, accepting her half-truths, taking a thin card out from a drawer and giving it to her. She slid her new purchases into her new backpack, and readied herself to be on her way. She glanced at the viewer, seeing Nicholas and her still there. She concluded that she had nothing to fear, for she wouldn’t be recognized in these clothes—with the way she looked now—anyway. She thanked the merchant and headed out the door.
She walked down the lane that was now heavy with traffic, onward to the nearest transport hub to find the t
rolley heading for Beacon Hill. When on the speedy train, the city flowing by her window in a blur, she caught a few curious glances from the passengers, and she turned her eyes away and ignored them. Her emotions threatened to come; she pushed them back. She let out a sigh of relief when she exited the transport at her stop, and after it sped off, she stood a moment in the quiet, fearing that she hadn’t the strength left in her for the long trek ahead. She sighed and put one foot in front of the other, moving up the trail, the path worn by many prior campers, up the gradually rising slope into the rugged terrain.
The higher she climbed and the more tired she became, the more determined she was to reach the top. There was a spot there where she had stayed with her father, and she was on a mission to reach it this day. It was late afternoon when she moved off the beaten path, into the thicket to reach the pristine plateau. At last, she reached her destination ...
She was safe! The serene wilderness stretched out, surrounding her. Nearby, a gentle waterfall splashed tranquilly into a pool, one that became a pure stream that flowed down to a river on gradual, falling tiers. Below her was a deep valley that held Seascape City, tiny in the distance, the gleaming white buildings giving way to the blue cove of the Aurora Sea. The view was spectacular—from a bird’s eye—a place high above the worldly woes. Here she could find peace.
She reveled in a moment of triumph and then began setting up camp, gathering the wood she needed for the fire and sparking the flames with her laser knife, and laying her bed alongside it. She wasn’t that hungry and would deal with that aspect of survival tomorrow. The sun would set, soon. It had been too many hours since she had slept—and she had danced, and had walked all night and day.
She crawled on top of her bed, to rest a moment ...
Skye came back to awareness with a jolt. Nicholas was calling her, in his panic ...
She was lost in the darkness, seeing only the cold and penetrating black, and was startled to realize that night had come and she had fallen asleep. She fell back, focusing on the stars shining above her until her heart returned to a steady beat.
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