Princess of Thieves

by Bella Beaumont

  Stecker sighed and looked away just as he saw the bearded man plunge multiple fingers into Filtray’s gaping asshole, eliciting another banshee wail from the fop.

  Yes, true animals of depravity.

  And quite attractive, as mentioned before.

  But not as attractive as . . .

  He turned from the spyhole to regard Princess Catera, innocently lying on the bed.

  Chapter Eight

  “W-What will you do with me, now that I’m your captive, Mister Stecker?” Princess Catera asked once Stecker had turned to her.

  The curly-headed man shrugged. He took a seat on the chair Alberus had been occupying, then leaned back and sighed. “That’s Alberus’ prerogative, Princess.”

  Catera drew her knees up to her chest, then scooted back to rest against the headboard of the bed. She looked so small and vulnerable in her position, wrapping her arms around her legs. “So you don’t . . . know?”

  “I have some ideas, but I don’t want to jump to assumptions.”

  Catera gulped. “You aren’t just keeping it from me because it involves torture and the like? And you know I’ll be frightened and try to run off?”

  Stecker lurched back in his seat, appalled. “Torture? Never!” He turned away, slightly embarrassed. “I wouldn’t let it happen,” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

  Furrowing her brow, she said, “You wouldn’t?”

  “The Solver Siblinghood doesn’t partake in barbaric acts like that. Not like your stepfather, the king . . .”

  She sighed. “Yes, I know of King Sefyr’s barbarity. Believe me when I say that I hate the king probably as much as you do.”

  Stecker frowned. “You do?”

  Nodding, she said, “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to keep that between us . . . for the time being, anyway. Until I figure out what your master’s plan is with me.”

  Stecker closed his eyes and gave her a sage nod. “Yes, I understand. I realized that when you spoke to Alb like a haughty noblewoman.” A mischievous grin. “Quite the act you put on, Your Highness.”

  She smiled coyly.

  “And when you did not disagree with Dered and Nem, regarding me single-handedly abducting you. We both know I did nothing of the sort.”

  She shrugged. “I’d like to keep my motives a mystery to the rest of your brethren, sir.”

  Stecker flapped his hand at her. “Enough with the ‘mister’ and ‘sir’ stuff, milady. Please, if we’re going to have this mutual understanding, call me by my name.”

  “Then I’d ask you to do the same, and cease with the ‘milady’ and ‘Your Highness’ and such. Besides, if I’m to be your prisoner, you can’t be throwing phrases around like this in public, can you?”

  Scratching his stubbly cheek, Stecker nodded. “I suppose you’re right. All right, Catera.”

  She smiled at him. The way her lips curved, so luscious yet innocent, it stole Stecker’s heart—made him skip a beat. He was quickly warming up to this young woman like he never had with any other woman in his life. In a way, because he was the one who found her, he felt a sense of . . . responsibility to her. To keep her safe.

  But don’t be a fool, Steck. You already know that she’s an adept manipulator, the way she spoke to Alb. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself.

  What gives you any inclination that she isn’t putting on a front for you, too?

  The thumping coming from next door began in earnest once more, as did Filtray’s ecstatic, womanly cries of muffled pain and pleasure. Stecker couldn’t help but blush at the sound, feeling that his copartners were displaying quite a bad example at the moment, especially in the eyes of a noblewoman like Catera. She’d probably never seen or heard such depravity in her entire life.

  Catera couldn’t help but voice her opinion on the matter, as the noises continued. She broke the momentary, fitful silence with a flash of a grin quirking the corners of her mouth. “Your friends—your brothers and sisters, as you’ve called them . . .”

  “What about them?” Stecker snapped, his voice having more emotional gruffness in it than he’d intended.

  “They seem like quite the . . . lascivious bunch.”

  Stecker chuckled darkly. “I think sexual depravity is one of our coping mechanisms for the difficult lives we’ve led, Catera.”

  “Even you?” she probed.

  Stecker looked away, biting his lip. “I try not to partake . . .” He was going to add “as often as I can,” but decided to stop there. The lie on his face was evident, and he knew he was fooling no one: Stecker had taken part in numerous sexual escapades over the years, with his brothers and sisters. He was not immune to desires of the flesh—no, he felt even more susceptible, at times.

  Catera studied the young man, with the mysterious, awkward look on his face. She thought he seemed conflicted, a bit lost . . . but it made him quite alluring. He obviously struggled deep down with some dark things, likely from his past, but he tried to put on a good face. Caterea thought it was for her sake that he did so, and she found that endearing.

  “We all come from broken pasts, Your High—Catera,” Stecker added, fumbling his words a bit as he broke free from his thoughts.

  The princess nodded her understanding. She shifted her weight, then stretched her legs out on the bed. “Might you tell me of those pasts, Stecker? I’m quite curious as to the personalities and temperaments of the people calling themselves my captors. I’d like to know more about you—the Solver Siblinghood, you called it? You’re an interesting bunch.”

  “You’re just saying that because you see us as gallant vagabonds, come to rescue you in your high-away castle, Princess. No offense, but we are peasants, urchins—thieves and murderers—one and all. It’s best not to get too close to us. You’ve seen how we deal with threats such as your royal guardsmen.”

  He scolded himself internally. He didn’t know why he was being so candid with this beautiful young woman. It was more than just her beauty, he knew—something else was drawing him to her.

  “That may be true,” Catera said, “but while I have nothing to do but sit up in this dingy room . . . Your master, Alberus, for instance. Your team seems to have an enormous amount of respect for him. Is he, too, addicted to the coital yearnings plaguing the rest of you?”

  Stecker frowned. He didn’t know how to take that backhanded question. Coital yearnings . . . plaguing us. So, that’s how she sees it? We are nothing more than sex-addicted vagrants to her, eh?

  And how could it be anyway else? She’s never lived a hard day in her life, I’m sure. Sitting in her plush room surrounded by strong stone walls and guards . . . she’s never seen a peasant’s struggle, or had to live it.

  She doesn’t know the first thing about living a life where every day alive is a blessing.

  “Stecker?” she quipped again, seeing that he’d withdrawn inside himself once more.

  He shook his head. “You are wrong, Catera. Princess. Er. Alberus is not our master, and that’s where our respect for him comes into play. He is like a father figure to us all.”

  “I understand, I think. But how did that come about? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “He rescued each and every one of us from certain death, imprisonment, and worse.” Stecker cupped his hands behind his head and leaned back, getting comfortable.

  “Oh?”

  “The big husky woman, Sala, for instance? She might appear rough and tumble—a deviant . . . but she was once set to marry a high-ranking officer. Her life’s path was opened before her, and it looked good. Plus, she loved that man with all her oversized heart.”

  “Who?”

  “Trevaros was his name. I never met the man, but in the beginning he was all Sala could talk about. Her lover, expertly skilled in the arts of warmaking and lovemaking. Then he was killed—murdered, it’s believed—and Sala fell hard. She became a roving drunk and an animal. She still hasn’t recovered from his death, as I’m sure you’ve seen. But I beli
eve all this . . . coital yearning . . . is a self-imposed quest, of sorts.”

  “A quest? Whatever for?”

  “To feel alive again, Princess. To find someone who can match the feelings she felt when she had Trevaros. Once she finds that man, or woman, I have no doubt she’ll settle down once more . . . and possibly even stop being so angry all the time.”

  “Fascinating,” Catera said, her eyes wide. She subtly leaned forward from the headboard, soaking in Stecker’s gloomy but hopeful words. “And what of that little jester next door, wailing until there’s no more air in his lungs?”

  “Filtray?” Stecker shrugged. “He was a traveling musician and poet. He was happy playing taverns with his family troupe, journeying from town to town, putting on plays and performances.” He scratched the back of his neck, staring down at the floor. “Then his entire family of musicians was slaughtered in a highway robbery gone wrong. He hid beneath the carriage while he listened to the agonizing cries of people he’d know all his life—the women raped and forced to watch as their men were dismembered and their children were either thrown into the flames or stolen away.

  “He longed to find a new family, I believe, after traveling alone in a dazed stupor for so long. And that’s when Alberus found him. It’s a rare occasion to find Filtray playing the lute or singing these days—except when he’s howling like a wolf such as right now. It’s my belief that he punishes himself for not being able to do anything for his friends and family . . .”

  As he trailed off, Catera wiped at her eyes, feeling them grow misty. “By the gods, that’s terrible.”

  “It is,” Stecker agreed with a nod. “And though the Sefyr Kingdom might not have been directly responsible for his loss, it was the harsh edicts of the land that created those bloodthirsty bandits in the first place.”

  “I’m so sorry, Stecker.” Catera looked away, ashamed, and sniffled.

  Stecker wanted to reach out and rest a hand on the woman’s shoulder, to calm her. Seeing her sad made him weak, and he felt awful for putting those dark thoughts in her mind.

  You need to learn when to shut up, Steck. Gods be praised, you didn’t need to get into such morbid detail!

  But Catera proved that she was stronger than she looked, or felt. She turned back, wiped the final tracking tear from her cheek, and said, “What about Dered and Nemya?”

  Stecker grinned. “I believe those two will end up together, some faraway night. The gods know how they eye each other!”

  Catera gave him a shy smile, and it cheered Stecker up.

  “Theirs is a simpler story. Nemya was a whore—she’s not ashamed to admit it. She worked at one of the taverns our little party frequented, in a different town. Alberus noticed her skill at persuasion, manipulation . . . her beauty. It was easy to talk her into joining our gang.

  “And Dered, well, I’m not sure about him,” Stecker said with a chuckle. “He seems to be a jack of all trades and a master of none. A strong fighter with a stronger chin, and a pretty face—”

  “I was going to say,” Catera interjected, “the man is exceedingly handsome.”

  Stecker frowned, feeling that pang of jealousy rise up again. “A-Aye . . .” he muttered. “Needless to say, the ladies love him. He is the siblinghood’s greatest distraction.” He barked a laugh. “Other than that, I believe he was once a soldier . . . discharged, for some reason. He keeps his story close to the chest, that one.”

  “I see.”

  “And then there was Rinzos, a man you’ll hopefully meet some day,” Stecker said with reverence in his voice. “He was the best of us all, Catera. And he was so close to getting out—to marrying the woman of his dreams and living a simple life on a farm. But then he disappeared . . . without warning. He’s been missing ever since, for months now. We keep looking for him, going from town to town, but it doesn’t seem good. It’s my personal belief that he’s . . . dead. But I’d be flayed alive by Alberus if I were to ever voice that unpopular opinion, not to mention attacked by my own brothers and sisters.”

  Catera furrowed her brow. “Why is that?”

  “Because he was Alb’s favorite, of course. The best thief, the most dashing, the most daring. He’s practically the patron saint of the Solver Siblinghood, Catera. A true icon, and a reason for us to keep going.”

  Catera said, “And did this Rinzos have a surname, Stecker?”

  He shrugged. “Not that I know of. Like I said, Princess, he is more of a legend than a figurehead of the company, nowadays. If we can find him hiding out in some dilapidated log cabin in the woods somewhere . . . excellent. But we won’t risk the lives of our remaining siblings to do it. Do you understand?”

  He felt like he was lecturing her now, for no reason at all, and it brought his mood down once more.

  But Catera nodded, unperturbed. It was clear that mentioning the history of these men and women was eliciting strong emotions from her.

  The passionate thudding from next door finally ceased. All was quiet for a moment.

  Catera said, “Yes, Stecker, I do understand the sharp pain of loss . . .” and then trailed off, turning away from him.

  Stecker’s eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher what that meant . . .

  . . . then his eyes slowly widened as realization dawned on him. Oh . . . my. How stupid could I be?!

  Stammering, he waved his hands at her, leaning forward in his chair and almost falling over. “P-Princess, er, Catera, please accept my humblest apologies. I . . . I said too much, clearly. It’s a bad habit of mine. Yes, of course you do . . . your father . . .”

  She nodded. The tears were at the corners of her eyes again.

  I chastised her in my own head for never living a day of hardship in her life . . . but how could I be so callous? So foolish?

  The woman’s damned father was executed! And now that cursed killer—the slayer of her kin and the king—calls himself her father!

  No, I was wrong about her. She’s stronger than I gave her credit for—perhaps even stronger than us!

  “It’s quite all right, Stecker,” she said, turning back to him, her wet eyes glittering as she saw the dismay in Stecker’s face that was impossible to hide. “In fact, it’s a bit of a relief not to be treated like, well, a princess, for once.”

  “I appreciate your candor and grace, Your Highness, but I am a fool.”

  She smirked, innocently shrugging. “Perhaps just forgetful, my friend.”

  Stecker snorted. “What sane man could forget Torace Contrus, the former king of this land? Your father—and perhaps the most infamous execution that’s ever befallen the continent of Carroen?”

  She scowled. “We don’t know for sure if he was executed, Stecker. Mind your words!”

  His lips pursed. “R-Right. My apologies, Catera.”

  Her face softened. “I know his disappearance, being overthrown . . . it’s all suspect. But you understand, don’t you, that I have to have hope? That my father is still alive, somewhere out there? It’s like you with your saint . . . Rinzos.”

  Stecker smiled warmly. “I do understand, Princess. And you’re exactly right.”

  She matched his smile, her cheeks reddening.

  The young thief wanted to leap onto that bed and kiss her, though he knew he would never be so presumptive. But the look that she gave him while their eyes locked . . .

  It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

  “And besides, it isn’t just King Sefyr who plagues my mind,” Catera added, her smile vanishing. “It’s my younger sister, you see . . . Ocena.”

  “Oh? What do you mean?”

  “Well, she’s the very reason why I planned to escape the confines of the castle, Stecker.”

  Stecker felt goose bumps rise on his arms, the hair on the nape of his neck standing on edge. He leaned forward in his seat but tried not to look too eager, but it was nearly impossible. “Really? Your sister, Princess Ocena? Could you elaborate on—”

  Just then, the door to the room burst open.


  Alberus limped into view, with Nemya behind him. The leader of the Siblinghood walked with a crooked gait due to misaligned hips from an injury years past. He had a stern expression on his face, his pursed lips hidden beneath his bushy gray mustache.

  “You two. Up,” he demanded, nudging his head toward them. “It’s time to go. Rouse your brothers and sisters, Steck—I don’t care if they feel they can’t walk right for a week from all the punishment they’ve taken tonight. That’s their own damned faults.”

  Stecker and Catera’s faces whipped around to the doorway.

  “Why, what’s wrong, Alb?” Stecker asked, his voice tinged with concern. He cursed the gods for letting his conversation with the princess be cut short. Just as I was about to delve deeper and find out more . . .

  “Oh, nothing yet, Steck,” Alberus said, a phony smile on his face. That smile turned upside down quickly. “It’s only this: There’s going to be a citywide—hell, a countrywide—manhunt for this little lady in no time at all, and I’d prefer not to be snoozing in this spunk-ridden brothel when it begins. Agreed?”

  Stecker gulped. “Y-Yes. Okay. What do we do?”

  The smile returned to Alberus’ face, only this time it was mischievous and sincere, his gray cheeks wrinkling, his hard eyes glittering.

  “Why, what we do every time a potential crisis befalls the Siblinghood, Stecker my boy. We take to the ground.”

  PART

  II

  Chapter Nine

  In Sefyr Castle, high atop the city, King Cartherus Sefyr sat back on his throne, his fingers languidly cradling his head, tapping his cheeks. A long beard roamed down his chin to his chest, hiding his mouth underneath the mass of brown, oiled hair.

  His royal advisor, Rink, had just finished telling the king some disconcerting news: Princess Catera had vanished in the night. Rink was a skinny, eclectic old man with veiny arms bearing countless scars and a gaunt face full of the same. His one notable feature were the caterpillar eyebrows that framed the upper portion of his oval head. He had been part of Cartherus’ retinue since the beginning—before the now-king had deposed the then-king of Contrus, Torace.