Queen of the Stars (The Royals of Adriel Book 1)

by Lorelei Orion

  He added, “Prince Terrance, His Royal Highness The Duke of Ives, is safe and well in Queen’s Palace.”

  The scene changed to a female reporter who was surrounded by the masses of people gathering at Queen’s Palace’s main gates. The throng chanted, very near to rioting. The journalist’s voice could scarcely be heard above the deafening din. “It was less than fifteen minutes ago when the Palace Spokesman came on live to tell us the shocking news! As you can see from the crowd here, Adriel is in a state of chaos—reports of unrest are coming in from all over the world! No one can believe that it is really true—”

  Cronala moaned. “What is happening? What virus?”

  Raine discovered that his hands were quaking. In a single instant his feelings for Sarra had swung from one dramatic emotion to the opposite other. He shot up to his feet and stormed about the suite, gathering what he would need for her rescue, oblivious to the couple’s frenzied questions. He despised himself. She hadn’t tricked him, they had. Even if this were a trap to snare him again, he would risk life and limb to save her. He had no other choice.

  When Darius blocked the doorway, he was forced to listen. “You can’t storm the palace by yourself, man! And in broad daylight! You think that you can just walk into the palace because you wear the uniform of the Royal Guard? When they find out that you have escaped, they’ll scour the estate looking for you! What do you want to do—die?”

  “She’s in danger!” Raine barked, using his shoulder to open up the exit.

  Darius gasped and hurried after him. “There’s nothing that you can do! You heard what they said—it’s a virus!”

  “Open your eyes! They’re killing her! They plan to do away with Sarra and the king and use Terrance Shantay as their figurehead! God—I’ve been blind …”

  “Who? What?”

  “Darius, it isn’t the king, it’s his advisors.”

  “But, what if all of this is just a trick to get you back?”

  “Then, they’ll get me back.”

  “Listen, friend. We must plan—you can’t go alone! We—”

  “There is no time!”

  Cronala caught up with them in the shipping bay. The five rebels who guarded the station scrambled about, obeying their leader’s commands. As they readied the best weaponry, she wrung her hands, fearing that she must say the words she had vowed not to say. Should she tell Raine about Sarra’s pregnancy? Faced with this horrible circumstance, would it be better if he knew?

  She approached him. “I promised not to tell, but … You have to be careful.” He ignored her, checking an M-5. “Will you listen to me?” she cried.

  When the impatient green eyes were on her, she was speechless.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Nothing.” She had given the princess her word.

  His menacing stare threatened her until a rebel rushed near, bellowing. “Your escape—it’s on screen!”

  Most everyone gave their attention to the viewer, but Raine didn’t bother listening as a reporter explained the worth of the bounty on his head.

  “Darius,” he said. “Go to Seascape City and send out word to the palace that I am free, there. Taunt them. Leave a trail, but get out fast.”

  Darius understood. He accepted that it would be useless to argue. “Be careful!” he warned, hurrying away.

  Raine saw Ainsworth coming into the port. “Robby!” he called. “I need you to get me back into Queen’s Palace!”

  “What! I just got you out!”

  “The princess is one of us. She needs us.”

  Robby sighed, his nerves growing while he listened to the rash plan. His days as a rebel spy in the palace would surely be over, after this. He concluded that if worse came to worse, at least he’d die a martyr.

  The noonday sun was bright on the countryside when Raine lie on his back, hidden in the military vehicle’s cargo compartment. This time he would take her not to hold her captive, but to save her. Only one thought raged through his head while the vehicle sped for the royal grounds: ‘Sarra is dying!’

  Desperately, he prayed that he would reach her in time …

  ***

  The sentries at Queen’s Palace’s west perimeter were more intent on watching the action on the viewer than keeping rigid at their posts. The news about the Royal Family, the riot threatening the main entrance, and the escaped Revolutionary prisoner were a tumult Adriel had never before known. When an estate auto came, wanting to cross the boundary, a soldier safe within the blockhouse gave the robotic inspection. A golden laser beam scanned one eye of the driver and the computer instantly found the file of Robby Ainsworth, who was a Royal Guard permitted access to this highly fortified area. The vehicle was identified and allowed to pass. The sentry went back to watch the planet’s horrific drama.

  Robby swallowed back his qualms while he drove into the shipping bay and parked out of view of the FAS station. “Thirty minutes,” he whispered. He stepped out, taking easy, deliberate strides as he set off to his dangerous task. His commander would be caught and executed if he couldn’t deactivate the tunnel’s motion detectors and the royal suite’s monitors. He took the corridor that led to the palace interior, where he would meet more security checks …

  Half of an hour had never seemed so long to Raine. When the moment finally came, he crawled out from the cargo hold into the rear seat. Heedfully, he peered out the window, his heart pounding while he assessed the stronghold. His reckless plan couldn’t be called intelligent, but he hadn’t the time or means to sabotage the sentries and the port without the Royal Guard knowing about it. If anyone saw him and informed the king’s men, it would be over.

  He slipped out and crouched down low, inching his way toward the end of the docking ramp to see down below. As usual, there was little activity. Two ships were idle but ready for an immediate take off, always being on alert. One was a sleek FAS escort, and the other, a CE-A, a replacement for the one that he had stolen in Sarra’s abduction. Hope surged within him, for her escape bay hadn’t been closed down.

  He studied the four men who all wore the prestigious silver FAS uniform, sitting at a table near the tunnel’s entrance. They watched a small viewer on the wall, sober with the news. He silently readied his M-5 at the maximum stun … and, feeling the press of urgency, it seemed like an eon passed before one went off to take care of nature’s call.

  Raine fired the gun on a wide sweep. The diffused blue-green laser ricocheted about the trio. Before they knew what had hit them, they slumped over, unconscious on the table. He sprinted down the walkway and began dragging their limp bodies across the floor, hiding them in a nearby supply room. There would be enough time to get to Sarra before they woke—if Ainsworth succeeded. He glanced frequently at the bay doors while he worked, and hadn’t yet concealed the last of the evidence when footsteps sounded.

  The FAS pilot returned to see his fallen colleague, but before he could react, he was jumped from behind. Raine rammed his arm across the man’s throat, yanking him into a firm grip. The FAS gasped, feeling the barrel of an M-5 shoved against his cheek, unable to breathe while being pulled over to the tunnel.

  “Unlock it!” Raine demanded.

  He struggled in protest.

  “Open it, or I’ll snap your neck! And no tricks, or I’ll do more than stun you!”

  The man decided against being a hero by activating the emergency signal—wasn’t Princess Sarra dying, anyway? With a dire need for air, he obeyed, his fingers giving access. The red lights on the wall panel went off, and the entrance opened.

  Raine pushed the guard away and fired, and the man froze in the blue-green wave and then hit the floor with a dull thud. He dragged the guard inside the supply room and finished hiding the other. He took the headlamp out from his shoulder bag and slipped the band over his brow. Closing the doors behind him, he ventured into the tunnel’s darkness.

  Raine knew the tunnels like the back of his hand, long before having memorized every detail of the stolen blueprint
s for his abduction of the princess. Stealthily, he moved through the eerie quiet, nearing the tripwires. He took his chisel out from his bag and tossed it out across the invisible lines. When the floodlights didn’t flash on and the lasers didn’t fire, he turned on his headlamp, retrieved his chisel, and began running, mentally thanking Ainsworth, making his way through the corridor until the headlamp illuminated the royal door. To blast it open would set off a tripwire; he must bypass the security system. He turned on his chisel and started cutting through the wall panel. The red laser vaporized the metal, but the process was tedious, and gave him time to worry.

  Now that he was actually here, his anxiety was high. He wasn’t certain what was beyond. The rebel spies had assumed that she was still in her rooms, but perhaps this was a trap and the King’s Advisors—Zenno—waited there. But, what made his blood rush cold was a horrible image in his head of Sarra lying dead.

  He disconnected the circuit. Bracing himself, he readied his gun and opened the doors …

  The room was in deep shadows, the sunlight dim on the draperies. He sensed her presence—it was like weak waves of despair, like a beacon. He searched for the source, and came to see her lying within her bed. He dashed for her and drew her into his embrace. She was like ice.

  “Sarra!” he choked. “Dear God!”

  The shallow rise and fall of her breast was the only evidence that she lived. He lifted her, and she was limp in the cradle of his arms … and then he was running, down the tunnel, to the bay.

  Robby saw his commander’s wild, green eyes. “Quickly!” he urged, standing guard while the distressed man hid the deathly-pale princess in the cargo hold.

  As the vehicle set into motion, Raine held her head to his breast. And finally came Ainsworth’s muffled words that let him breathe again—

  “We’re through the sentries. We’re out! Is she …?”

  “Alive,” he rasped.

  Raine caressed her cool cheek to ease his shaking, to save his fury for the men who had done this to his wife.

  ***

  Sarra couldn’t wake. She needed to escape. She shivered from the biting chill and whimpered as shooting pain entangled her senses. Someone was calling her name, the sound faint and broken …

  She became terrified as the light faded into a black, suffocating nothingness. She couldn’t see. A scream wrenched from her and it rang silently, the vibrations assaulting her and the echoes fanning out to taunt her. The monsters would hear, and come … A cold tentacle touched her, setting off shrieking—

  “Easy, love. Easy!”

  The voice came from above and she sprang for it. Familiar warmth enfolded her. She clung despairingly.

  “Please! They’re trying to kill me!”

  “You’re safe.”

  “Don’t leave me!”

  “I’m here.”

  The evil claws backed away, but hovered near, waiting …

  She sent out a plea to the Heavens, grateful when her spirit began to whirl. She was on her back, tossed about as turbulent forces washed over her like waves, carrying her off and up into a dark abyss. Motion stopped. There was peace.

  Her vision came and she saw the startlingly clear image. She gazed upon Queen Anna’s glorious statue, and Auntie held her hand.

  “You are very wise for a child of six,” Alma praised. “Yes, your mother lives in the stars now. Her spirit is there in Heaven.”

  Her little hand chose a magical sparkle in the night sky. “I want to go to that one!”

  Her aunt chuckled affectionately. “Ah, Sarra, Sarra. What is all this talk, lately? Space exploring is too dangerous for you. You are a princess. You are special. When you get bigger, you will see.”

  The memory blurred and vanished. She cried out as she began falling. An invisible presence caught her, instantly stopping her panic. She was in awe—free to drift across the celestial galaxy, touching the sparkling suns she passed by, being fascinated by the scorching flames. A throne appeared, a majestic golden entity on a wingy flight. When she saw the king within it, she pushed herself off in gliding pursuit.

  “Father! Wait! I’m sorry I made you ill! Please!”

  “Shhhhh,” a voice soothed.

  The tired gray eyes were filled with hurt. They made her fight back her tears.

  “Daughter, how could you betray me? Going off and leaving your poor Auntie Alma and me so you could have your adventure—you should be ashamed! Giving yourself to a savage!”

  Alma came near, to wave a damning finger. “You’re a sinner, Sarra Anna!”

  “I am not! I’m not a sinner. He’s my husband!”

  The king shook his head. “His lowly child will never take my throne.”

  “The heir is a prince. I can feel it inside me. I know it!”

  Taylor’s angry face flew by her. “Whore!”

  “Taylor, no. No! I am not!”

  “Shame on you, Sarra Anna!”

  “I’m a woman, Alma. You were wrong. I still want the stars.”

  Sarra thrashed and twisted about as the chills violently shook her. She writhed against a vice that held her down.

  “The doctor won’t hurt you, Sarra. I’m here.”

  “It’s some form of hallucinogenic. She’s had several injections.”

  Sarra heard her whimpering while she roamed the abyss alone, lost and forlorn, searching for her father. A flashing brilliance beckoned her. The glint became green eyes, and then the handsome face was there, and then came the physique, a sculptured Greek god in phantom form. Steel bars held him. Thrusting out strong arms, the cage crumpled. He was naked and bold against the heavens, brandishing a silver sword with a shimmering blue handle. He whispered her name softly, drawing her near. Brutally he shoved her down on her knees.

  “Don’t!”

  “Her Royal Highness, the proud Princess Sarra—look at you now!”

  He placed the blade on her breast and she couldn’t move, horrified as he cut her. Out came a blue rose. He smiled wickedly while he took the fragile bloom and crushed it, and flicked the petals away.

  “No!” she cried.

  “Blame it on my charm. Lust is all I feel. You know I loath you. You betrayed me.”

  “No! No!”

  He disappeared into the mist.

  “Sarra!”

  She shrieked and saw Raine’s eyes again, and fought against his hands. “Don’t touch me! Stop hurting me! You are always hurting me!”

  “I love you.”

  The king’s face loomed above her and he was surprised.

  “But, he doesn’t love you.”

  “No,” she choked. “How can I love him? He doesn’t care about me—he just wants to use me and make me ache. He will kill me if you don’t listen to him! I betrayed him! Zenno! Be careful, Father! It’s Zenno!”

  “God forgive me.”

  The throne began drifting away, caught by the wind, and the sparkling crown tumbled off the monarch’s head. She caught it.

  “Wait! Don’t be angry! Come back! You dropped your crown!”

  He was gone.

  “She’s pregnant.”

  A frigid sea flooded her and she couldn’t breathe. Her eyelids were made of ice but she lifted them. She gasped. People were everywhere—worried and angry, young and old faces were all pleading for her guidance. They knelt, worshiping her, the multitude pressing around her in a weighty crush. She began fleeing down a dim corridor, but it grew longer and longer and she couldn’t reach the end. The subjects chanted her given name, begging for her to quit running.

  “Stop it! I don’t want to be queen! Stop it!”

  “Come back, Sarra. Please,” one voice said.

  Suddenly, she was in a meadow. Hot lightning bolts shot out from twilight storm clouds and her heart drummed like thunder as she rolled about with her beau in fragrant wildflowers. She laughed brightly while she ran toward a grand, towering castle, her sensual lover pursuing her nakedness. The palace faded and then became a rustic log cabin that glowed with a ma
gical aura … and then everything vanished. The rains came. The warm wetness slid upon her cheeks.

  She opened her eyes and Raine was there. He was concerned. It was daylight and she was lying in a bed.

  “The cabin,” she murmured, confused. “Was that a dream?”

  “No, love. We will go there again,” he promised, smiling kindly.

  He stroked her brow, battling with the throbbing within her head. She fought her way back into the meadow and the mist embraced her, washing away her agony until she floated high above it all, the gentle cloud a blessed peace.

  ***

  Sarra opened her eyes, becoming aware that her palm and cheek were on Raine’s broad breast. She was within the circle of his arms, and he was in the throes of a deep sleep. She frowned, seeing the sunlight that streamed in a large, unfamiliar window. Where was she? She felt weak, exhausted—something horrible had happened, but she couldn’t recall what it was. She started to panic …

  Raine woke instantly. He sat up and grasped her shoulders. “Sarra …?”

  “Raine?”

  He saw the sanity in her dark-blue eyes, and relief spread across his face.

  Suddenly fearing for her baby, she slid her hands to her waist. After a moment, he quietly said, “So you knew about the baby.”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know?”

  “A medic.” He was relieved to tell her, “The baby is healthy. He lives.”

  Sarra slowly relaxed, greatly relieved but very confused. She saw the dark patches beneath his eyes, the evidence of his fatigue. She glanced down at the plain white nightgown she wore and then at his clothes—the uniform of the Royal Guard? She looked around at the simple furnishings, a room she had never seen before. This was like going to sleep and waking up in an entirely different dimension.

  “What happened?”

  “You’ve been ill,” he said softly, brushing a golden tress away from her cheek.

  “How?”

  He drew her down beside him on the bed, reluctant to tell her.

  “Where am I? This isn’t the palace. Wait, a minute …” She saw that he had a bruise on his lip. “You were captured? Oh, no! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to tell them—to betray you!”