Princess of Thieves

by Bella Beaumont

  “And we wanted to watch,” Sala added, smiling.

  Nemya snorted. She reached out and handed the bundle in her arms over to Sala, who took it and noticed it was a guardsman’s helmet and cloak. Sala happily began donning the gear.

  “Question,” Filtray said, raising a finger into the air. “I’m assuming you knocked the guard out after your little . . . escapade?”

  Nemya nodded. “What of it?”

  Filtray blushed, but it was thankfully hidden by the shadows. He looked to his left and right, to Stecker and Sala, but Stecker had a pursed frown and Sala was throwing the Royal Army cloak over her shoulders. “Umm . . . if your plan was to knock him out, couldn’t you have just done it before you . . . went to your knees?”

  Nemya frowned. “I suppose I could have.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  The woman shrugged unabashedly. “Because he had a big cock, Fil,” she said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything. She readjusted her helmet, pulling her loose blonde hair back underneath it.

  “Oh. I see.” Filtray scratched his throat and turned away, embarrassed.

  Sala chuckled darkly. “A woman after my own heart, Nem. If you aren’t careful, I’ll have to lift you up and shove your juicy crotch into my face to see what that big boy did for ya down there. Then we won’t get anything done here—”

  “Okay, looks like we have our entrance,” Stecker interrupted, before the huge inebriated woman could drawl herself into an aroused stupor. He pointed up the face of the spire, and everyone’s eyes shot upward.

  An open window, big enough for a man to crawl through, about three man-lengths high. It would be a difficult climb up the sheer, rounded spire, but Stecker was already spinning his grappling hook in his hand.

  “What about you and Filtray?” Nemya asked. “You’re the only two without disguises.”

  Stecker shrugged, then released his rope up into the air. It shot through the window, he pulled, and it stuck to the lip. Beginning to climb the rope, feet sturdily sticking to the side of the spire, he said, “We’ll just have to improvise, Nemmy.”

  THE INCESSANT THUDDING and thumping through the walls of her room had ceased. Princess Catera lay in her bed, eyes closed, and still the pounding noises reverberated in her mind. She tried to forget the cries that were torn from her sister’s throat nearby, in one of King Sefyr’s many chambers. Sadly, those cries had eventually turned into moans, and then whimpers.

  Sighing, Catera sat up on her bed. She knew that the post-coital wind-down would take some minutes to pass, as Cartherus Sefyr wooed and showered Ocena with affection. Then he would kick her from the chambers and have her walk shamefully back to her own quarters to clean herself up.

  Ocena would call upon a servant to draw her a bath, and she would soak in that steel tub for hours, probably filling the tub with as much of her own tears as hot water. Then she would escape to her bed, pull the lavish curtain over her mattress, and fall into a fitful, light sleep.

  And Catera would not be there by the time she woke up.

  The elder princess rose from her bed and rummaged through her closet, finding a few small articles of clothing that were easily foldable and stashed away. Then she hid the bundled clothes under a warm cloak and stood in her room, wondering what else she needed.

  Kitchen. Yes, I’ll need food if I’m to survive alone out there . . . I can’t expect any favors from anyone.

  In fact, I’ll likely have to conceal my identity so that no undesirables get any bad ideas.

  She left her room and was immediately met by a tensing of the two guards’ shoulders. They both eyed her—the night was getting late, and it wasn’t like her to leave her chambers at this hour.

  She tilted her chin in a haughty way, standing as tall as she could so that she looked authoritative and in control, despite being much shorter than both guards.

  “Only going to the kitchens for a late snack, gentlemen. Be at ease,” she assured them.

  “We shall attend to you, milady,” one of the stoic guards said.

  But Catera was shaking her head. “Nonsense, there’s no need. I wish to speak with Chef Larmel alone about tomorrow’s morning meal. I’d like to make some suggestions, and I don’t want you buffoons hearing it!”

  The guard frowned.

  Catera said, “Just believe me, soldier, when I say that you’ll be pleased with what I’m ordering Larmel to make for the household guards tomorrow. But if you follow me, I’ll not make such a request.”

  The second guard frowned, too, then turned his head to his comrade. It wasn’t very often that the Royal Army men and women ate anything other than slop—even the household guard.

  A better morning meal sounded much greater than what they were used to . . .

  “Still, Princess . . .” the guard said, but his voice wavered and trailed off.

  “I have a better idea,” Catera rapidly added, pointing at the guard’s chest. “How about you and your comrade tend to my sister once she steps out of the king’s chambers? She never gets the royal treatment, and you all should feel awful for it.”

  “B-But, it’s not our fault, milady,” the second guard said. “We simply follow orders.”

  Catera crossed her arms over her chest, her head swiveling away in an unpleasant demeanor. “I don’t care. She doesn’t deserve it. Don’t follow me, soldiers—stay with my sister. Understood?”

  “Y-Yes, ma’am.”

  A sharp nod. “I’ll be back shortly.” And then Catera was bounding down the hall, past Ocena’s empty room, and around the corner. She headed for the staircase leading down, far in the distance, past the few lit lanterns posted on the walls along the way.

  When she rounded the corner and was out of sight from the guards, she threw her hood over her head, then looked over both shoulders to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

  STECKER AND THE REST of the Solver gang split up once they were inside the castle. They were on the second floor, he noticed, because he stood next to a staircase that spiraled downward. Screwing up his brow, he wondered, By all the gods, what was this window doing open at this time of night? It’s a chill breeze surging through here, flickering those lit torches on the walls.

  He was sure, now, that his gang had had more help in this endeavor than Alberus had originally let on. It would be just like that old fox to keep secrets from his “children.” The man had more secrets in his body than bones.

  As those thoughts swirled around his head, the rest of the gang were making their way up the wall, then jumping in through the window. They all climbed the same grappling hook still suck in the windowsill.

  Within moments, all five of them were inside.

  The hallway teed off in two directions, with the third direction to their right going down the dark staircase, and the fourth direction being behind them.

  A long red rug covered both hallways, to the left and forward. Lanterns danced with small flames on the walls, every ten feet, going both ways, creating little globes of orange light where they stood.

  There was nobody present in either direction—no guards, no servants, nothing. It seemed odd that the castle seemed so uninhabited, even though it was late into the evening.

  Stecker sighed, head turning in both directions. “Sala and Filtray, you go left. Dered and Nemya, you go ahead,” he said in a low voice, making gestures with his hands.

  “What about you?” Dered asked.

  “I’ll follow you in a moment, I just—”

  Stecker cut himself off, eyes bulging. Far down the hall that ran straight ahead, a person had rounded corner and was briskly walking toward them. He was short, with a large hood covering his face, looking down at the floor as he walked so that his face would be completely unseen.

  Filtray reflexively reached for a dagger, but Stecker put a hand on his arm to stay him.

  The person didn’t look like a guard—too small, not the right equipment—but his sudden appearance startled Stecker nonetheless. />
  “Q-Quick!” he spat, realizing that the newcomer had not noticed any of them yet. Stecker’s hand shot out and he grabbed Filtray and Nemya—the two closest people to him—and disappeared down the hall that led left.

  Sala and Dered followed, but Stecker put his palm out toward Dered, making the man freeze where he stood.

  “Not you, fool! Pass off—”

  The thief didn’t get to finish his sentence, as the footsteps were growing louder as the person drew closer.

  Dered frowned, tilted his newly issued helmet over his forehead to cover most of his face, and stood as straight as a pole. His companions were hiding behind the furthest wall from him in the next hall.

  The figure approached and stood for a moment in Dered’s presence. As the face slowly lifted, that’s when Stecker realized it was not a man at all, but a woman, with light orange hair that was tucked away beneath her hood. She was decidedly pretty.

  The woman frowned at Dered, and he was confused. Stecker, Filtray, Sala, and Nemya all pressed their bodies up to the wall, hiding as well as they could, but if the woman simply flicker her head to the right, past the edge of her hood, they’d all be seen.

  “Really, soldier, occupying the staircase?” she said in a high, snobbish voice.

  “M-My apologies,” Dered said. “Ma’am.” He didn’t know who she was, so he felt that elaborating with a blanket “ma’am” might be prudent.

  As the big handsome man stepped out of the way, the woman locked eyes with him one final time. Then her gaze lingered, as if she knew Dered, and it made the bandit incredibly uncomfortable.

  From the side, Stecker furrowed his brow. That’s when he noticed that she wasn’t staring at Dered, but rather through him . . .

  . . . at the open window behind him.

  She’s onto us! Stecker worried.

  Blinking, the woman turned away and started down the stairs. When she turned the corner to the next level of spiraling steps, the four hidden comrades crept out from behind the wall and breathed a big sigh of relief.

  “Okay,” Stecker said, unable to take his eyes from the staircase that led down into a dark void. “Let’s break. Dered, I’ll follow you in a moment, like I said. We all meet at this window in ten minutes’ time, with or without Her Majesty. Yes?”

  Everyone nodded, then split up. Dered and Nemya marched down the hallway ahead, while Filtray and Sala bounded off to the left, their height difference almost comical as they wore oversized and undersized Royal Army armor, respectively.

  Stecker stood at the juncture of the window and staircase, then inhaled to prepare himself. Something caught his nose and he sniffed again. Another bit of lingering going on, he thought . . . a smell . . . sweet and cloying, like overly rich perfume.

  It had been left in the woman’s wake.

  His four companions gone, he turned his head to the void leading down—black and eerie, no torchlight. He couldn’t help but get a sneaking suspicion, even though he had been told to stick to the route—stay the course. Alberus had assured the crew that the princess stayed on the second floor of the castle. Somewhere.

  Sighing, Stecker put his foot down. The peculiarity of the situation was too much, and he had a gut feeling. A hunch.

  So, he headed down the stairs, less than thirty seconds behind the heavily-cloaked and heavily-perfumed woman.

  PRINCESS CATERA REACHED a wide expanse as she came to the bottom of the stairs. A shining silver chandelier rested overhead at the base of those steps. Doors were off in all directions—leading to dining rooms, studies, servants’ quarters, and off in the distance, the kitchen.

  From her vantage point, she could make out that dull light brightened the halls near the kitchen. It was the one room in the castle that never shuttered—there were too many inhabitants of the castle, such as a constant rotation of guards, which meant someone always needed feeding.

  She set off in the direction of the light. She paused in a shadow as a guard passed by in the room in front of her, gliding past the doorway like a silent stalker.

  That damned sentryman above, manning the stairs, she thought, pressing her back against a wall as the guard disappeared. What was he doing? And why was that window open? It could’ve made a good escape route, had I had rope or something to repel myself . . .

  That man was quite handsome, however. I thought only the ugly, decrepit ones got recruited into the royal household.

  She shrugged, then stood forward from the wall like a chameleon and started to head through the door—

  A hand fell on her shoulder.

  A chill ran through her spine, exploding like fire to her extremities. Her eyes bugged out and she nearly jumped out of her skin from the sudden light touch.

  It took every ounce of will for her to keep from screeching like a banshee.

  Spinning with a terrified expression, she was met by a man she’d never seen before—not too tall, not too burly, but rather plain looking. His face appeared young and boyish, and he clearly had nice curly hair underneath his hood.

  Hood?! Why is this stranger wearing a hood? Has he come to assassinate me?!

  As her eyes widened with horror, the man released his hand and held it up, palm forward, to show that he meant no harm.

  Locking eyes with him—who was only a few inches taller than she—Catera couldn’t help but get lost in those dark pools. It was like she was entranced.

  A . . . A special subordinate of my stepfather, perhaps, tasked with keeping a close eye on me and my sister? Is this the man who captured Ocena during her escape?

  She wanted to scream.

  But, for some reason, she didn’t.

  “Peculiar to see a member of this household pushing up against a wall to hide, milady,” the man said in a low voice. He sounded older than he looked.

  Catera furrowed her brow. “What ever do you mean, s-soldier? Who are you?”

  He smiled. “Name’s Stecker.”

  “Your title? Rank?”

  A small smile twitched on Stecker’s lips. “I only meant that you smell like a noblewoman, madam, and that you needn’t be skulking around in your own house.”

  Catera frowned, not pleased that her question had been ignored. Her mind whirled with possibilities, and they were vast.

  Somehow, she knew, this moment in time would affect the rest of her destiny. Perhaps it would even lead her on the path she was meant to follow. She wasn’t sure.

  But she could’ve shrieked and called for help, and dozens of guards would have swarmed this room within moments.

  But she didn’t.

  She could have stamped her foot on the man’s boot, or perhaps kneed him in the groin and tried to run.

  But she didn’t.

  There was even a bell, hanging from the wall directly to this man’s left, on the wall near the staircase. It was a servant’s bell, but it could’ve easily acted as an alarm if she wanted to reach her hand out, snatch the lever, and pull the bell to wake everyone in the castle.

  It would’ve spelled doom for Stecker, without a doubt.

  But she didn’t.

  Stecker followed the woman’s bright eyes—she was incredibly beautiful underneath that hood—and saw that she was glancing at an alarm bell of some kind.

  He gulped. He knew that if she reached for it . . . it would be all over.

  Unless he punched her in the stomach now, doubled her over, and flung her over his shoulder . . .

  But she was too fair for that. He couldn’t explain the feeling inside him, but he didn’t want to do any harm to this poor noblewoman, who had such a sorrowful gaze in her eyes.

  He knew who she was, without a doubt. He’d never seen Princess Catera before, but this woman fit the description.

  And he knew his mission. Even then, he felt suddenly unable to “procure the quarry by any means necessary.”

  “You aren’t part of my household’s retinue, are you, Mister Stecker?” Catera asked smoothly, raising a single brow. The power had shifted in her
favor, now that they had both seen the pulley bell next to her.

  “Please, just Stecker. Or Steck, Princess. And no, I’m not.”

  “Are you an undesirable?”

  Stecker frowned. “I like to think not.”

  “Let me put it to you another way, sir. Would my stepfather have allowed you into this castle willingly, had you asked?”

  Stecker cracked a smile, stifling a snort. “I think not, milady. Otherwise I wouldn’t be wearing this hood.”

  “Precisely. So, Stecker. Why are you here?”

  “To find you, Princess Catera.”

  Catera put her hands on her hips. “To find me, sir?”

  Stecker sighed, then ran a hand through his nappy hair, throwing his hood back. “To kidnap you, milady.”

  A mischievous smirk appeared on Catera’s face, dimples forming in her cheeks.

  Stecker felt his knees grow weak. Why would she look so pleased to hear that?! And how is her smile so . . . disarming?

  But the next thing she said surprised him even more than her beauty.

  “Excellent.”

  Stecker’s head lurched back. “Pardon?”

  Catera’s smile grew. “You’re like a back-alley guardian angel sent from the gods, Stecker.”

  “You mean you . . . want to be captured?”

  She gave a small, sharp nod. “Just tell me which way I should go, sir, and I’ll follow.”

  Chapter Six

  Stecker and Catera reached the top of the stairs, where Dered was just arriving, Nemya behind him, hurrying from around the corner of a hallway.

  Exasperated, Dered said, “Steck, we found a room with two guards on duty, stationed just outside the doors. We’re thinking it belongs to one of the . . .” he trailed off as he noticed the hooded, feminine person behind Stecker, also bounding up the stairs.

  “No need,” Stecker said with a grunt. “Signal the rest of the crew and let’s get out of here.”

  “You mean that’s . . .”

  Stecker nodded.

  Dered gave him an odd look, then disappeared down the hallway again.