When Raine entered the cellblock and saw Dyer, his fear was confirmed. Why hadn’t he been able to sense the man’s honesty before?
Still caged, Garth rushed to the edge of the barrier. “Commander, have they told you? They know I’m innocent!”
Raine motioned at the guard. “Free him. He was framed.” He sprinted from the room, a bemused Darius following. “Quickly! We must tell Sarra!”
“Why?”
“She might be in danger! Who would frame Glover? There were five men at the rendezvous on Kan and I’m certain that one of them used the laser on us. If it wasn’t him … oh, God! Hastings, Draco, Rashade, Kohler … All the rebels are welcomed guests at the palace!”
Raine cursed, faulting himself for not making Glover a top priority, but with everything else that was happening, there was no urgency to start the prisoner’s trial—he had thought that they had caught the traitor. As he called the palace, demanding that security be set up around Sarra—and the four suspects taken into custody—they heard the panic in his voice and hastened to obey. To his alarm, they couldn’t locate her. The four men were on the guest list, but only three could be found. Sarra had scarcely been out of his sight since the battle, and now she was alone—and Draco was missing. The soldiers promised to find her with a massive search.
“Wait!” Darius cried. “Let me come with you!”
Both men jumped into the auto and it tore off like lightning.
***
Sarra strolled aimlessly through the Royal Gardens. She could roam endlessly in the lush thirty-five acres and never become bored. It felt wonderful to be able to go where she pleased on the estate without the constant presence of the guards. She chose a cobblestone path lined with fruit trees and flowers and breathed deeply of the tangy scents.
A soft smile touched her lips when she pulled Raine’s seductive note out from the bodice of her azure dress. She read it again and longed for nightfall when he would return and unveil the mystery of his wicked plans for her. She folded the paper and returned it to the place near her heart, and plucked a long stem of a blue rose to savor the bloom with her nose.
She didn’t even feel guilty about taking some time just for herself. She had left her personal comm behind, not wanting to be disturbed or tracked. Didn’t she deserve it? Her father was sleeping the morning away—at least he had been when she had left nearly an hour ago. It was good that he could rest after all that he’d been through. She needed to relax also, to reflect on all that had changed, and dream about the future.
Sarra turned when a faint rustling came from behind her. She saw no one in the shadowy path, but felt like she was being watched. She shrugged, guessing that it might be a shy gardener, and continued on with her ambling. While moving onto a different pathway, a startled cry escaped her.
A tall and lanky man was before her, his gray eyes warm and smiling.
“Your Royal Highness, I am sorry to have frightened you,” he apologized, with a bow. “I was told that you were here in the gardens. I am a Revolutionary who has worked with your husband. I have news I must tell you about him.”
“About Raine?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes. Please, let us walk. It is such a fine day—and this landscape! It is incredible!”
He took the direction that led to the ornamental lake.
She asked, “What is your name, sir?”
“Victor. Victor Draco, Your Royal Highness,” he said with a bow.
“Pleased to meet you. What did you want to say?”
“Well, I’m not sure if you know your husband as well as I. Perhaps I should tell you about him. Victor—I said to myself—here is Her Royal Highness, all soft and sweet, married to a man as cold and complicated as him. Can she understand him? He—”
Sarra started to feel uneasy. The more the man talked, the more it seemed like he had nothing to say. It was as if he was stalling for time, for … something. His friendliness wasn’t contagious—it was eerie.
“Mister Draco, I really must be getting back to the palace. You may go on ahead. There is a beautiful little pond just over the bend. I know you’d enjoy it.” She forced on a smile. “Good day.”
Sarra made an effort to appear collected, strolling away from his unnerving presence. She was met with a shock she could never have anticipated. She cried out when he roughly grabbed her arm.
His eyes were fierce and cold. “We’re going there together!”
He clamped his hand over her lips to smother her bewildered scream, leaving her no choice but to stumble on with him.
Sarra’s heartbeat pulsated in her throat when he pushed her down on the pond’s bank. Stunned, she glanced around her, at the tufted land that sloped gently upward to sharply stop, forming a cliff. She had come here often in her younger years to swim out-of-doors and to relish nature, for this was a private royal playground, off limits to most. It was doubtful that anyone was near enough to hear her, but she let out an ear-splitting shriek.
Draco pulled an M-5 out of his black vest and leveled it on her. “If you do that again, you die now!” he snarled.
She kept silent, sending out a prayer to the Heavens, and to Raine …
“Her Royal Highness, at my feet! I have waited for this day! Stand up. Off with the dress.”
Sarra desperately tried to control her hysteria and get the command of her voice. “You’ll never get away with this! You will be tortured before your execution for the rape of the princess!”
“Rape!” he sneered. “I wouldn’t touch you! On your feet!”
Shaking, she obeyed.
“Take it off!”
“Why?” she choked.
“Do it!”
Sarra’s hands were clumsy as she did so, dropping her blue dress on the ground, Raine’s note falling away. He wanted her undergarments and slippers gone, as well. Soon she was bare and shivering, her arms crossed tightly over her breasts. With her hair tied back in a silky stream, she had no shield to protect her from his bold, degrading stare. He laughed—sounding more like a giggle—loving her embarrassment and fear. She lifted her chin, defiantly.
“Ah, yes, so modest! And so brave! You swam here naked before, I am sure? It’s such a cozy place, tucked away in your pretty little world. You’ve never wanted for a thing in your life! All high and mighty in your grand palace while others are suffering! How fitting it is that your mama drown. But, such are the tragic ways of the Shantay family. Ain’t that right, sister?”
“What?” she gasped.
“Yes, my dear little half-sister! And you never even knew that you had a brother! But why should you? His Majesty never knew he had a son! He threw away my mother—the grand Lila Paley—like she was a toy he grew tired of!” he blustered, and then his voice came out as a whisper. “True, she was a commoner, but with a gentle heart—she didn’t think that she was good enough for him. I didn’t even know … she told me when she died …”
Victor’s jaw worked and his throat tightened. His hatred of the monarch for shunning his mother was still new, having learned about it less than a year ago. It had happened months before his birth—almost five decades ago—but all his life he had believed himself to be a commoner. He had endured his abusive stepfather and then a mediocre, impoverished life. He was the sovereign’s son, deserving all of the power and riches that grace the position! The princess was in his way. He had planned to drown her in her private pool, but this would work just as well. Now that her husband had finally left her alone, he could have his revenge.
Sarra was carefully moving back but froze when a noise in the trees alerted his M-5. He jerked the gun that way, saw the bird fly away, and set his sights on her again. He wiped the teardrops from his cheeks, his face twisting.
“Into the water,” he demanded. His eyes glazed over, his pupils shrinking. “It will look like an accident. I’m sure you will fight, but the autopsy will reveal that you were only struggling for air. I’ll go back to Father. I’ll finish him off with an overdose of the tr
anquilizer. They’ll assume he died from shock, hearing about what happened to you. I’ll be there, weeping at his bedside, and take my rightful place as his only heir. That Terrance fellow won’t matter—I have the royal blood. I’ll be king …”
His gaze focused on her movement. “No!” he roared.
Sarra tore away but the madman was right behind her. She shrieked when he caught her around the waist, and she struck at him wildly while he dragged her into the pond. Her screams were cut off as her throat flooded with water, the incoming stream blocking her airway. He pushed her head far under. Cool liquid rushed inside her … Blindly, she fought … White sparks showered on her eyelids …
Suddenly, there was air. She coughed violently and opened her eyes, and cried out in her relief.
The Royal Guard lined the cliff, their weapons aimed and ready. Draco was on the bank, his hand like a vice on her arm. He cursed and sobbed in his frustration. With a forceful tug he yanked her out onto the ground. She gasped when he pressed the barrel of the M-5 on her breast.
“This is fatal!” he warned. “If you fire, she dies!”
The guards were very aware of this. With the help of a servant who had seen the princess enter the gardens, they had found her, though there was little that they could do to save her. Their guns were set on stun—unable to chance a kill with her so near—though they couldn’t use their lasers. In Draco’s convulsions, his thumb would twitch on his trigger and electrocute both him, and her.
“Release her!” a voice called. “We have you surrounded!”
Draco smiled crookedly, wheezing while he yanked her up by her hair. She winced from the shooting pain that burst in her head, but she didn’t make a sound, in fear that her rescuers might act rashly. His M-5 never wavered while he jerked her along, backward down the path. He whirled to find more soldiers slowly advancing from there …
A commotion brought her gaze up.
Raine!
Raine’s eyes were icy-cold and narrowed on her captor. Darius stood beside him, his distress clear. She became aware of her nakedness, of the slight rounding of her waist, and of how the many masculine eyes reverently stayed off her, keeping on the enemy. She no longer felt helpless. Raine was near.
“Let her go, Draco,” he advised quietly.
“Hah! And have them shoot me? Why don’t you come down and try to make me?”
Sarra panicked, knowing that the gun would be turned on him. “No, Raine! Don’t!”
“Raine!” Draco scoffed. “She still doesn’t know about you?” He loudly cleared his throat as if he were about to make a formal announcement. “Hear this, everyone! There stands a man too ashamed to admit his true name! He’s the son of Royce Tyler, of a man fool enough to destroy his entire village just to free a few worthless slaves!”
“What?” Sarra gasped.
Green eyes met hers. She saw the plea within their depths before they became expressionless, and slid away.
“This man, Nicholas Tyler, has a notion that he should rule!” Victor jeered, glancing cautiously around at the ominous faces. “It’s evident to me. Sorry, Nicholas, but this isn’t Earth. This is Adriel and I will be the monarch! I am the heir of King Ellis the Second!”
Nicholas Tyler—alias Raine Nicks—had never known such cold, stark fear. His beloved wife was in the hands of a deranged man, one who aimed to bring about her death. He must keep his control and keep the man talking, distracting him so that the men behind him could get close enough to knock the M-5 away.
“Draco,” Nicholas said, chuckling coldly. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I am his son!” he hissed. “I can prove it! You should be down on your knees! Guards—I demand that you turn your weapons on him!”
The soldiers didn’t obey. Their stances became even more imminent.
A caustic smirk came onto Nicholas’ face. “Ah, I see,” he said. “If you truly are the king’s son, you’d believe that you deserve the Crown.”
“I do!” he retorted. “But, his advisors wouldn’t let me in to see the king—they did a DNA, but they said that my father didn’t want me around and threatened to imprison me if I ever came back!”
“So that’s why you joined the Revolutionaries?”
“I heard about them in a Myrrhian tavern and I joined, since you planned to dethrone the king. When it was all over, I would be in power!”
“Is that all you want, Draco? Power?”
“It is my birthright! The Throne will be mine!”
“This isn’t the way to reach it. Release her.”
Victor’s gray eyes fleeted about the encompassing press, unable to find a way out. Frustration surged within his veins, an emotion that was all too familiar to him. “Damn you, Tyler!” he spat.
Victor longed to turn the gun on the man, but knew that that would mean his own death. Nicholas Tyler had been a thorn in his side from the start. When he had seen the princess in Darius’ whorehouse, he saw a way to be a hero in his father’s eyes by rescuing her—he would get at the Throne that way. He had contacted Erasmas. Tyler took her away. He could still, however, be a hero by telling the FAS which ship she was on. He had checked the port records and found the signature code of ‘Nathan Christian’s’ ship. But Tyler crashed the ship. When he had learned that she still lived, and that Darius needed a crew to go to Kan, trusting his instincts, he became one of the volunteers; there he tried to rescue her, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. And Tyler took her away. He was always taking her away. “Damn you!” he raged. “You are always causing trouble!”
“As you have done, to me. So that was you, sending out those transmissions.”
“Of course!” he quipped. “Had to rescue my sweet little sister, here—had to make dear daddy proud—back off!” he growled.
The guards, who were inching nearer from behind, obeyed.
Nicholas said, “But how did someone with your limited intelligence frame Glover?” he goaded, bringing the man’s attention back to him.
“You think you’re so smart!” he snapped, and then said, “I hid in his quarters. It was just a phony transmission, but it sure had you fooled!”
“That, it did. But why did you frame him?”
“Good ol’ Darius, there, was watching me like a hawk, after what I did on Kan. Where did you hide her, then? And how could you be such a fool to let her go back to the palace—ruined my plans.” The full weight of his situation suddenly struck him. “And now you are trying to ruin my plans again … you are trying to defeat me again …”
“No, Victor, I’m—”
“But you won’t defeat me.”
Victor concluded that he had only one alternative to save himself. He gripped his quaking hostage even tighter. “I’ll make you pay for all that you’ve done when I am king. You guards—clear a path. I’m walking out of here with her.”
Nicholas, seemingly calm, broke through the chaotic mumbling of the Royal Guard. “You know we can’t let you do that. Let her go, Draco, and she will grant you an audience with your father.”
Sarra could scarcely breathe. Her control of her balance was gone but she didn’t need it with how solidly he held her. Dizziness swam in her head, leaving her incapable of speech. She wanted to shriek out her agreement with her husband and make this madman know that he just couldn’t kill her!
What he said next rocked her with pure terror.
“Hah! The king is dying, anyway! I have to get back to him—you don’t understand!” he seethed. “She’s in my way! I want her gone!”
His arm came around her throat in an excruciating clench. She heard Raine shout but the sound was hushed by the painful throbbing within her ears. She struggled frantically against her captor, and violently gasped when she could breathe again, when his arm slipped down to her shoulders.
Nicholas somehow caught his rational and didn’t lunge for her. His racing pulse was threatening him, his great fear for his wife beginning to overwhelm the level head he needed to save her. It wasn’t going to wo
rk—he couldn’t keep on distracting Draco so that the guards could get at him from behind. It was far too risky—how had he even considered it? He sent a warning to them with his eyes, and they began to retreat.
There was only one way to get the gun off her. Draco was twisted, insane—he might resort to suicide, taking her with him. The longer this standoff progressed, the more time Draco would have to realize that he wouldn’t escape with his life.
Nicholas laid his weapon down. “She must stay alive or you’ll never be crowned,” he stated, hiding his urgency. “Let’s talk—together we’ll find a way to make the king sympathize with you. I’m coming down.”
Victor, caught off guard by the sudden aggression against him, shifted the barrel of the M-5 toward Nicholas. “You stay there!”
Nicholas kept on advancing down the slope, even though the fatal laser could fall upon him at any moment. “I understand, Victor, how you could be pushed to this. Drop the gun, and we’ll see to it that the king gives you anything that you desire. It is your only choice. If you fire on her, you die. If you shoot me, you die. The soldiers will stun you and her and then electrocute you where you fall. The only way to stay alive and ascend your throne is if you drop the gun. Drop it, Victor,” he urged, waiting for the right instant when he would have the guards stun his wife and her captor. Perhaps he actually could spring away from the deadly current …
Sarra’s fear for her husband brought back her voice. “Stop!” she cried. “Stay back!”
Victor was in a state of riotous panic. He began stumbling around, glancing rapidly to his fore and aft …
In an eruption of her adrenaline, Sarra thrust her leg out between Draco’s legs, behind his calf. At the same instant she struck her hand sharply onto his. The M-5 flew away harmlessly and he tumbled backward, bringing her down with him. While they rolled about, he howled and bit at her. Strong hands clamped down on her arms, yanking her to freedom. She clambered away …
Queen of the Stars (The Royals of Adriel Book 1) Page 35