Royal Replicas 2: Royal Captives

by Michael Pierce

  Royal Captives

  Royal Replicas, Book 2

  Michael Pierce

  Copyright © 2017 by Michael Pierce

  http://michaelpierceauthor.com

  Cover by Yocla Designs

  http://yocladesigns.com

  Edited by Annie Jai

  http://www.e-scribes.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Royal Captives/Michael Pierce. 1st Edition.

  Contents

  Sign-Up

  Prologue: Queen Dorothea

  1. Victoria

  2. Byron

  3. Victoria

  4. Byron

  5. Victoria

  6. Byron

  7. Victoria

  8. Victoria

  9. Victoria

  10. Byron

  11. Victoria

  12. Victoria

  13. Byron

  14. Victoria

  15. Byron

  16. Victoria

  17. Byron

  18. Victoria

  19. Victoria

  20. Byron

  21. Victoria

  22. Byron

  23. Victoria

  24. Byron

  25. Victoria

  26. Byron

  27. Byron

  28. Victoria

  29. Byron

  30. Victoria

  31. Byron

  32. Victoria

  33. Victoria

  34. Byron

  35. Victoria

  36. Byron

  37. Victoria

  38. Byron

  39. Victoria

  40. Byron

  41. Victoria

  42. Byron

  43. Victoria

  44. Victoria

  45. Victoria

  Epilogue: Queen Dorothea

  Sign-Up / Review

  About the Author

  Also by Michael Pierce

  At the end of this book, there is a link to sign up for my VIP Readers' Group and receive two FREE gifts:

  An exclusive Royal Captives bonus chapter.

  An exclusive Royal Replicas series companion short story, Reset.

  They will not be available anywhere else.

  Prologue: Queen Dorothea

  We surely couldn’t be having this same discussion again. I didn’t like it any more than he did—my husband, the King—but I didn’t see a better way to secure our future, and that of my family name.

  I gazed with disgust upon the father of my dear Amelia. He had the gall to attack me about the future of our sickly daughter—our only child—and I tried to remain focused on the conversation at hand, but all I could think about was his betrayal.

  “I won’t support this decision!” he roared, pacing our expansive bedchamber. “We will continue to explore treatments to get her better. I’ve spoken with King DuFour and he has recommendations with new options.”

  “And we can follow up with him on that,” I said. “But the window is closing for this option. As she gets older, there will be no point.”

  “Cloning her is sacrilege! She’s not an experiment! She is not a freak! She’s a sick child and it is our responsibility to help her.”

  “I am trying to help her. I want nothing more than for her to get well. But what if we can’t help? What if we fail? What then?” I felt the tears welling up, as they did every time I thought of this. “I can’t go through another failed pregnancy. A part of me has died with each one. The next one would absolutely kill me.”

  He turned from his pacing and enveloped me in a powerful hug, but I quickly shook myself free. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of consoling me when all I could think about was her.

  I wiped my cheeks and continued. “We have an opportunity to create new, healthy daughters. One of them will be able to take Amelia’s place on the throne and continue our family name.”

  “Your family name,” he countered. “And no one will replace Amelia. I don’t care how identical they look.”

  “She’s not replaceable, but I am?”

  “What?” His sudden quizzable look, along with the cocking of his head, was almost comical.

  “Why am I so replaceable?” I asked, dropping down onto the edge of the bed.

  “You are no more replaceable than our daughter. What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve seen you with her. Natalie. I’ve also happened to notice she’s recently had a baby boy. Is he yours?”

  “What? No… no, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looked genuinely offended, but I knew how persuasive he could be. It was one of the traits I’d originally loved about him.

  “I understand. The Queen of Westeria can barely conceive a child,” I said. “And, as the most powerful man in the Kingdom, you have the need—the obligation—to spread your seed. You don’t need Amelia like I do.”

  “How dare you! That’s not fair. Amelia is just as much my only child as yours.”

  “Then you should have no concern that I’ve relieved Natalie of her position and sent her and her baby to the 24th Ward. She’s now employed by the Ramseys.”

  “She did nothing wrong. And the Ramseys are not known for being civil to their help. Why didn’t you come to me first?”

  “Why would I come to you in matters of staff appointments? If she doesn’t concern you, then why would her repositioning?”

  I could see him trying to formulate an appropriate response, and could tell he felt cornered. “I—I’ve developed a special connection with Natalie. But I didn’t do anything to feel guilty about.”

  “Then you never kissed her?” My tears were gone now; my disgust from seeing the two of them together was returning, threatening to boil over.

  Now he did look guilty. “You’ve channeled all your grief and energy into replacing Amelia rather than helping her. You’re being brainwashed by those so-called doctors and don’t even realize it. You no longer value my counsel. You don’t even seem to value my company as of late.”

  “So, you’ve sought out the company of another woman. This is my fault then; is that what you’re saying?”

  “No. I’m not blaming anyone. It just happened.”

  “They warned me about you,” I snapped. “And they were right.”

  “Maybe I should leave too.”

  “I’m so easy to walk away from?”

  “I’ve been here all these years for you, not all this. For all your political positioning, I never understood why you chose me. I had nothing to offer. I didn’t provide any special alliances.”

  “I never worried about you,” I said, thinking back to the young man I’d married. “You weren’t like the others—or so I thought. I suppose, if you give anyone enough time and leeway, they’ll eventually betray you.”

  He shook his head somberly. “Then you’ll know how I’ll feel if you decide to go through with this desecration of an experiment.”

  “It’s already done,” I said flatly. I sat up straight and looked him square in the eyes.

  His face drained of all color as he stood there with an unspoken question lingering on his lips. Then he crossed the room in a few long strides and slapped me across the face.

  “I will never forgive you for this!” he cried.

  My cheek exploded with pain. But the ensu
ing taste of blood was the trigger, forcing me off the edge of the bed to lunge at him. I clawed at his face in a feral rage as he fought to contain my onslaught. He soon had me by both wrists.

  “You’re insane,” he said, his breathing heavy, red ribbons dripping down both cheeks.

  I spat at him, speckling his face in more blood. “And you disgust me!”

  He pushed me aside and I fell to the floor, collapsing hard on my ass. He lightly dabbed at his open wounds and gazed upon his bloody fingertips.

  “It’s clear I’m no longer needed here,” he said and stormed off to the en suite. The water from the faucet sounded.

  He was going to leave me. I wanted him to leave. I could no longer look at him. But what would he do when he was gone? Would he try to take Amelia from me? Would he try to turn the Kingdom against me? He was well loved by the people of Westeria. I think they loved me more because of him.

  I thought about how I would stop him… but also didn’t want him to stay. I didn’t want him to ever touch me again. I frantically paced the room, swallowing the blood pooling in my mouth.

  How do we resolve this? What can I say to him, that would keep between us my decision to move forward with cloning Amelia?

  I paced by the hearth, my eyes landing on the fire iron perched to the side of the bricks.

  The faucet water in the washroom was turned off.

  My heart raced as I considered my options. If the King walked out of our bedchamber door, then I had no control over what he’d decide to do next.

  That is not an option.

  Without a second thought, I snatched the fire iron from its stand and stalked toward the washroom.

  He came through the door and never saw the iron swinging toward his head until it was about to make contact. The shock of the incoming blow registered on his face for a split second before his body crumpled to the floor with a loud crack and more blood. A lot of blood… soaking into the cream-colored carpet.

  I dropped the fire iron beside the King’s twitching body, only then feeling the full weight of what I’d done. I slowly backed away. Sweat was beginning to mat my hair to the sides of my face. The blood was leaving a stale iron taste in my mouth.

  I would have thought seeing him like this would have been more bearable—pleasant even—but I had to look away as conflicting emotions threatened to strangle me.

  My little Amelia, please forgive me.

  I left the room, closing the door behind me, off to find someone who could discreetly clean up my mess while I devised the official story of the King’s untimely demise.

  1

  Victoria

  I followed the Inter-Ward Express on horseback, trying to avoid as many people as possible. The train tracks paralleled the boundary of the Kingdom, running steadily between the fence and the rest of our protected civilization.

  There was a mirage effect on this side of the fence to enhance the view and soften the claustrophobia, a problem when the fence was first constructed but not so much anymore. Our citizens now simply saw the beautiful, unencumbered landscape extending to each horizon like nature had always intended. And what they couldn’t see was soon forgotten.

  If I drew too close to the fence, I began to hear the disconcerting hum of the millions of volts patrolling the cables. The fence also began to come into view like a ghostly figure between worlds. Then, there were the small wooden posts and inconspicuous signs to remain at a safe distance. Overhead cameras tracked movement and set off alarms with the Ward’s local police—not that someone would come out just to tell you to step back. Numerous sections of the fence were known for suicides.

  I rode throughout the night in my ripped and dirty, golden dress from the Choosing Ceremony and only stopped a few times the next day, passing from ward to ward, headed back to the 24th.

  I didn’t know who I’d meet when I got there—when I reached the devil’s tree. Kale’s accomplice had not left me his name and he’d disconnected his number, so there was no way I could get in contact with him. There was no way to stop him from releasing the pictures and videos I’d taken of Princess Amelia if I didn’t make it to him on time. And if that happened, Piper, Constance, and Kale would be killed. I couldn’t let that happen.

  It was hard to believe what my life had become in the past month. That small blip on its calendar had changed everything; I wasn’t the same girl who had left the 24th Ward a few short weeks ago; I was a clone of Princess Amelia.

  It was almost unimaginable but true. I had met and competed against six of my genetically identical sisters. Queen Hart had admitted there’d been one more, but she died, a loss we were also told had been entirely unrelated to the cloning process. And I’d found Princess Amelia herself—alive and not so well—locked away in the cellar, much like I had been in the Ramsey estate.

  I had competed against these girls in playing the Queen’s demented game of replacing Princess Amelia and fighting for the heart and hand of Prince Byron. The losers would be executed to keep the secrets that we ever existed and Princess Amelia truly was getting better, nearly ready for a public reemergence. Three of the girls were already dead from the push of a button. I had been Prince Byron’s choice, while Bethany had been the Queen’s. Against what we were originally led to believe, however, the Queen’s choice was all that mattered, so Bethany was now at the Queen’s side. My other two surviving sisters were being held captive as leverage for my return.

  And then there was Kale. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to have come back for me. But the Queen’s guards had walked him out in shackles at the unfortunate climax of the Choosing Ceremony. He couldn’t stay away—and I couldn’t protect him.

  It hurt the most to think of Prince Byron. He had chosen me. Contrary to what I had ever pictured for myself, we had been in love. But when the Queen denied his choice—denied me as her daughter—he complied, folding under her unfair demand. A part of me wished he had never chosen me. I could have left with Kale when given the chance, and maybe my life would be a little better off today. Maybe I’d be back with my little sister, Mina, and hiding out in relative safety.

  The sun was setting as I approached the border of the 24th Ward. I was exhausted and starving but pushed forward. The train tracks had disappeared behind a stretch of forest, though I could still hear their roaring engines and forewarning horns beyond the trees. The passing noise made me feel less alone this close to the fence.

  Up ahead, I saw a woman staggering out from the trees. Due to the distance and dimness of twilight, I couldn’t tell if she was drunk or hurt—or perhaps both. At first, she seemed to be shuffling toward the fence, then she caught sight of me approaching. Her arms flew up, frantically waving above her head to grab my attention.

  As I drew closer, I saw her dress was in tatters and her face caked with dirt. Her long, potentially blonde hair was a matted mess. There may have been blood mixed in with all the dirt. She appeared to be crying.

  I pulled back on Misty’s reins to slow her, now able to hear the desperate woman’s cries for help. Her eyes were wild and she ran toward me on dirty, bare feet. I could certainly relate to the pain of not having shoes to protect my feet, especially since I was currently barefoot myself.

  “Help me, Miss!” she cried. “You’ve got to help me!” She continued to run toward me, and when she was still a few yards away, she fell. Whether it was from unseen injuries or she tripped on something in the tall grass, I couldn’t tell. But she went down hard.

  I brought Misty to a stop and surveyed the trees. It was getting darker and each tree trunk spawned numerous shadows. I couldn’t see anything moving, but that didn’t mean there was nothing there. I apprehensively dismounted and approached the fallen woman.

  “Don’t leave me here,” she continued to cry. “I can stand. I know I can.” She pushed up on her hands and knees only to fall back on her stomach. The next time, she only made it halfway and her arms shook violently. I forgot about my apprehension as my heart went out t
o the woman. I ran to her side and dropped to my knees. She rolled onto her side and gazed up at me. I could see now that there was no blood on her. All the noticeable marks and discoloration were dirt.

  “Bless you, child,” she said, her face lighting up. She pushed up, and after what seemed like a tremendous effort, reached a seated position.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  She glanced past me and I followed her gaze to the trees. Branches swayed. The shadows were watching us, but I couldn’t make out anything more.

  “I’m safe now. I’m safe now, thanks to you.” She tried to rise on her own but again faltered.

  “Is anything broken?” I asked.

  The woman shook her head. “I should be able to ride if you can help me up.”

  I thought of where I was going and where I needed to be within the next few hours. Kale’s accomplice was to be waiting for me and I couldn’t miss that meeting. Kale’s life depended on it.

  “I don’t know where you need to go,” I said. “But I can’t detour too far from my path. I have an appointment I need to keep.”

  “I understand. Whatever you can do, I would be eternally grateful.”