Princess of Thieves

by Bella Beaumont

  Turning to the princess, Stecker said, “Is it just me, milady, or are your halls severely undermanned tonight?”

  Catera frowned. “I was starting to notice the same thing. I know the majority of the Royal Army is out in the field, but our personal retinue seems, uh, diminished.”

  Dered returned moments later with Filtray in tow.

  “Where’s Sala?” Stecker asked upon their arrival.

  Filtray sighed. “The curmudgeonly bitch split up from me, Steck. Said she could cover more ground without, and I quote, my ‘twiggy chicken legs’ holding her back.” He seemed crushed over being called twiggy chicken-legged.

  Steck saw something out the corner of his eye. He spun to the other hallway leading into near darkness as a figure rounded the corner.

  A guardsman, spear in hand, making a patrol.

  The guard saw Stecker and the ground of hooded, blackened vagabonds and raised his arm out to point at them.

  “Hey!—” he began yelling, just as another, larger form appeared directly behind him as he turned the corner—a huge shadow descending on him.

  A bulky forearm wrapped around his throat, cutting off his shout of surprise into a desperate gurgle.

  His body writhed. He dropped his spear to clutch with both hands at the powerful arm wrapped around his neck.

  A sharp crackling sound as his windpipe was crushed, then he was flung to the ground.

  Catera instinctively meant to cry out in surprise. Stecker reached out and slapped his own hand over her face, pulling her close to quiet her yelp into a mere murmur.

  Sala gingerly stepped over the fallen body of the guard, then the big woman was running down the hall toward them.

  Stecker gently let go of Catera’s mouth once she seemed to have calmed down, though her eyes were still wide and terrified.

  “Unhand me, brute!” she snapped at Stecker, who backed off. Turning her furious gaze on the giant of a woman approaching, she said, “D-Did you have to . . . kill him?”

  Sala shrugged. “Probably not, Your Majesty.”

  Catera’s frown only deepened.

  Moments later, the company of six was out the window, starting with Stecker as he repelled down the wall using the grappling hook’s rope. The princess was next, and she struggled most of all to maintain balance on the wall without falling back.

  When she was about six feet from the ground, she froze. Stecker put his arms up and called to her like a baby: “Just let go now, Highness!”

  She whimpered, then pushed off from the wall. Even had she fallen, she would’ve only sprained a few bones, but Stecker was there to catch her like a dropping sack of potatoes.

  The rest of the crew quickly followed.

  Princess Catera’s eyes widened again at seeing the naked body of a man stuffed in the nearby shadows.

  Oh my, these people are ruthless! she thought, realizing that this man was dead, too. What have I gotten myself into?

  When they were all on level ground, the company set off toward the northern wall.

  A dreary, dazed face looked at them from under the archway, his head lifting to watch all of the approaching figures streaming by.

  Private Calas was rubbing the side of his head, feeling the cut and bruise from getting knocked unconscious, and his fingers came away sticky and white. He made a disgusted face.

  As he looked up, he said, “W-What is the meaning of . . .” then saw the same miserable apparition striding by him, like an angel of death.

  Nemya was the last in line. She smiled down at the man as he struggled to stand from his back against the wall.

  Nemya took her helmet off and swung it across her body, smashing it like a club against Calas’ head—the other side of his head that hadn’t been cracked yet.

  With a satisfying crunch, the dazed guard crumpled to the ground once more in a heap.

  “Night night, Private Calas,” Nemya said with a cruel grin. “It’s too bad I was never able to do anything else with that big tool of yours.”

  Stecker scowled and turned back at the echo of the colliding helmet. “Nem, stop fucking around! Let’s go!”

  And with that, the five bandits and their quarry disappeared into the Sefyr City night, leaving the castle behind with an unconscious man, two dead bodies, and not a single alarm called in their wake.

  MUCH TO THE CHAGRIN of the Solver Siblinghood, Princess Catera was not adept or practiced enough to make it onto the rooftops of the city, where they all felt they would have been safer while traveling.

  Instead, they had to zigzag through the alleys and shadowy crevices of the streets, painstakingly making their way back to their temporary headquarters. But, it was much easier without having a bound and gagged princess to carry around, and she seemed only too willing to follow in their quiet footsteps.

  The Solver Siblinghood never stayed in one place for too long, as most gangs of thieves were wont to do, but the Hefty Teat was their current place of residence until Alberus told them otherwise.

  Stecker thought the announcement that they’d be departing the Teat would come any day now, since they had the asset in hand. It was time to pick up and move shop—possibly underground, where the city guard was less likely to find them.

  He had no doubt that the manhunt for Princess Catera and her ruthless captors would be legendary and all-encompassing.

  The group eventually made it to the brothel-tavern, as the moon was reaching its zenith in the sky.

  Sala was first in the door, bursting it open with a harsh kick. Her arms were raised as she entered, in a grand, victorious way, like she’d just won a sparring match. That, coupled with her enormous size, drew all attention to her.

  A large smile fixed her face, her teeth bared in an open grin. “Barkeep, your finest ale for me and my favorable companions!” she announced.

  Stecker groaned. He wanted to slap her upside the head for causing such a scene upon their entry—before they’d even stashed the princess away, no less.

  It was highly doubtful anyone would recognize Princess Catera, what with their low stations in life and drunken, seeing-double attitudes, but he wanted to be safe rather than sorry.

  So, he roughly grabbed Catera’s arm and disappeared from behind the entourage, leading the princess up the stairs while all eyes were on the giantess who’d just barged into the tavern.

  Dered and Nemya were following them, Stecker noticed, while Filtray seemed content with staying behind with his much bigger comrade. The little weasel only came up to Sala’s tits, and it was an interesting combination seeing them together. They were like a novelty, though no one actually believed the two of them were together.

  Stecker walked into their room at the end of the hall and a pacing, limping Alberus froze in place and whipped his head around.

  Smiling, Stecker said, “Alb, may I present to you the princess of Sefyr Kingdom, Catera Sefyr.” He gestured wide with his arms, going into a low, mock bow.

  Catera stepped forward and flung her hood back, her bustle of light orange hair tumbling free. “I’d prefer to go by Catera Contrus, if it’s all the same to you, Mister Stecker.”

  “Ah, an alias. She’s already thinking on her feet,” Steck said, maintaining his smile.

  “No, just my original name, as I’m sure you’re aware. I want to go back to it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Catera put her arms over her chest, then looked up at Alberus’ grizzled gray face at the end of the room. “And you must be the man responsible for my abduction?”

  Alberus nodded. “I am, milady. Alberus Solver.” He put his hand out to be shaken.

  With a sullen look on her face, Catera stepped forward. She ignored the taller man’s hand, then abruptly stamped down on his booted foot.

  “Ow!” he cried, recoiling and lifting his foot from the ground. “W-What—”

  “That’s for having my guardsmen killed, you savage barbarian.”

  “I n-never ordered for any deaths—”

  �
��Well, they happened! And the blood is on your hands.” Her attitude was completely changed from when Stecker first met her, with her eagerness to be captured. He realized that she was . . . putting on a show. She wanted to make it look as if this kidnapping had been against her will.

  And I won’t try to stop her . . .

  It was also amusing to see Alberus so flustered and stammering around the younger, smaller woman. He didn’t know how to react.

  Trying to avoid the princess’ deathly gaze, Alberus looked over her head and said, “Stecker, I’m assuming Sala and Filtray are already inundating themselves with the offerings of the Hefty Teat?”

  “Indeed, Alb.”

  “Then I suggest you join them. You too, Dered, Nemya. And good work on your position, Nemya.”

  Nemya shrugged. “Don’t congratulate me, sir. Stecker is the one who single-handedly captured the haughty royal stepping on your toes.”

  “Is that true, Steck?” Alberus asked, raising a brow.

  Stecker merely shrugged. Let them think what they want.

  “It is,” Dered said solemnly, ever the picture of fairness—even in the midst of a thieves’ gang.

  “Excellent,” Alberus said. “Then you’ll get yourself a bonus, boy. Good job.”

  “Yeah, good job, Steck,” Nemya said, slapping him hard on the shoulder as she walked past him, back into the hallway.

  Ha! They think of me as a hero, Stecker thought, watching Dered go with an acknowledged grunt. Let them think it, I suppose . . . until the princess reveals the true nature of her capture . . .

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Alberus said, shooing them away with a wave of his hand. “I must discuss a few things with this bratty doll.”

  “You heathen, don’t call me that!” Catera shouted, tightening her little hands into fists at her sides.

  Alberus rolled his eyes.

  Stecker smiled and nodded. He gave Catera one more prolonged glance at the doorway. He was about to tell Alberus to go easy on her . . . that she’d had a rough night.

  He didn’t want the older man taking advantage of her, after all.

  Shaking his head, he thought, I don’t know why I’m feeling this sudden need to be protective of this stranger. She’s a rich, entitled noblewoman with nothing in common with me.

  Where is this feeling coming from?

  Sighing, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

  Either way, I’ll see you later, princess . . . of that, I have no doubt . . .

  SALA BELLOWED WITH laughter, slamming her mug of ale on the wooden long table. The froth of her beer spilled over the rim of her cup, sloshing onto the table in a pool. She sat at a bench, surrounded by men and women as she regaled them with her tale, loud enough for the entire tavern to hear.

  She was well past drunk, now, and onto a stage that could only be described as tossed. Her big arms gesticulated wildly in the air as she spoke in slurs and shouts.

  “An’ then I wrapped my fat forearm ‘round the cunt’s head—popped it clean off like a melon, boys!”

  Bare-breasted whores stared at her with misty eyes, enamored with the large ogress. Men stared at her alluringly, their hungry eyes watery and bloodshot, but locked in utter concentration. Despite being huge and intimidating, she was still quite pretty in the face, large around the bust, and huge around the ass.

  Stecker was shaking his head from a corner of the room, watching the debauchery unfold. Her flapping tongue knows no bounds . . . the foolish woman.

  If she continued to throw words out, he worried she’d spill the truth regarding their mission. The last thing the Siblinghood needed was for the entire peasantry to know that they housed a princess in their midst.

  This was the worst time for a celebration, but that’s exactly how Sala Annas was treating it.

  Filtray was in the opposite corner of the room, sitting alone with a gruff looking man whom Stecker had never seen before. They sat in a booth, with their faces just inches apart as they leaned forward on the table and spoke to each other in hushed voices, eagerness and desire in their eyes.

  Nemya talked with Dered at the countertop that the poor barkeep stood behind. The counter went from one end of the tavern to the other, with drunks quaffing down their drinks before falling asleep on the tabletop, challenging others to wrestling matches, or generally getting into no good.

  A moment after Nemya and Dered’s inconsequential conversation ended, Dered had turned to his other side and was passionately kissing a half-nude harlot who stood beside him, her body pressed against his muscles as she went on her tiptoes to caress and stick her tongue down the taller man’s throat.

  Nemya watched Dered kissing the whore, her eyes dancing over Dered’s strong, handsome body, and Stecker could tell that she was thinking lewd thoughts of her own, but her scowl showed that she was not too happy with the outcome of this little engagement.

  A loud slap caught Stecker’s attention and he was drawn back to the centermost longtable where Sala was still the center of attention. She had slapped a passing boy’s behind, hard, making the young man yelp. The boy was a server, quickly passing beers to the patrons as the tavern continued to fill up.

  He had a scared look in his eyes, and Stecker felt bad for the youth. He was just beyond the cusp of adulthood, only barely, and likely had never broken in his manhood. If Sala had anything to say about it, that would quickly change.

  Trying to hurry out of the big woman’s line of sight, he disappeared into a crowd, emerging near the booths to lay down mugs for Filtray, his bearded admirer, and a table full of other drunks.

  The Hefty Teat was getting bawdy and raucous. It was usually like this, come night time, but rarely this late into the evening. The moon would be waning soon, and the unfortunate patrons would be greeted with the blinding dawn, before their days began in hungover stupors and pounding headaches.

  But the kidnapping of Princess Catera was a momentous occasion. Though very few patrons knew the specifics of why Sala was so happy—she had yet to completely blow their cover—it was clear that they were drawn toward the excitement.

  Sefyr City had been undergoing a political and civil change over the past few months, with the heightening of the Sefyr-Geread War. No one knew what the days ahead held for them, and no one was very pleased with how the king had handled the situation, throwing the poorest folk onto the frontlines to die and bleed without any thanks or recompense for their families.

  People were fed up. Stecker had no doubt that massive civil unrest was underway, and possibly even a peasants’ rebellion.

  He knew something like that could never succeed—even with Sefyr Castle being undermanned—because these people weren’t fighters or soldiers. They would be cut down, wholesale, by the vicious orders of King Cartherus and his armed guard.

  But change never happened by simply sitting around. And Sala was doing a tremendous job of riling the group up.

  She slugged down the rest of her mug, then held it up into the air. Moments later, an oversized woman who could have given the Hefty Teat its name was by her side, pouring more golden liquid into Sala’s tankard.

  Sala leaned over, planted a wet kiss on the woman’s cheek, and she blushed and hobbled away back toward the bar.

  Stecker sighed. He’d always been a loner, and the actions of his brothers and sisters were starting to embarrass him. If he was being honest with himself, he envied Dered’s handsomeness, Sala’s strength and utter contempt for any kind of decorum, Nemya’s powerful anger, and Filtray’s lackadaisical approach to unorthodox situations concerning love and lust.

  But he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to the princess, over and over again.

  Sala squinted an eye at a large man across from her as she drew from her mug, belched, and wiped her sticky mouth with her forearm. “You,” she announced, pointing at the man. His eyebrows went wide. “Aaand—” her finger circled away from him, then fell on another young man, this one not quite as bulky or built a
s the first. “You!” she exclaimed.

  Neither of the men was near Sala’s height or size—she was a veritable living oak tree trunk.

  As she stood from the bench, people gave her a wide berth, the cacophonous din of conversation dying down inside the tavern to see what she would do. She drained her mug in two quick gulps, then her eyes narrowed and she looked round at a few bared tits that were near her face. She grabbed and squeezed the nearest breast—a large, melon-sized affair—and caused the girl to squeal with delight.

  Then Sala broke into a fit of laughter again and reached out to snatch the nearest man’s big bear paw of a hand—the man she had first pointed to. She took the other, shorter man by the shoulder, and turned him around.

  With baffled looks on their faces, Sala led the men away, wobbling in a zigzag train together, unable to stop herself from drunkenly chuckling and giggling.

  They made their way to the stairs leading up to the rooms, and Stecker watched them ascend like a disaster waiting to happen, bouncing off the railing and wall as they struggled to negotiate the steps. They eventually made it up without falling backwards and breaking their necks.

  Stecker rolled his eyes at seeing them disappear into a room near the top of the steps.

  A few minutes later, Filtray was also on his feet. The usually flamboyant man seemed coy and inconspicuous, trying to hide his small frame from passersby. No one watched him venture up those stairs with his taller male companion behind him.

  No one save Stecker, of course. He always had eyes on everything, especially when it concerned his brothers and sisters. He felt a bit disgusted that they would engage with complete strangers, especially after completing such a dangerous mission.

  But he could say nothing to them.

  Instead, he drank another mug of ale, grew tired of watching Nemya watching Dered slobber all over the whore by his side, and headed for the stairs himself.

  He had a mind to speak with the princess, to figure out her thoughts . . .

  . . . and to make sure Alberus wasn’t doing anything inappropriate with the poor lass.