Princess of Thieves

by Bella Beaumont

  He spied the littlest one in the back of the line—where he belonged—scurrying along after his comrades. It was the dainty man whom he had sodomized and left a cum-ridden mess in a Hefty Teat room, facedown, ass in the air, leaking a volcano of thick semen.

  He had smiled then, recalling the joyous time as he walked down the road in their wake. It was in his nature to dominate the weak-willed and put the dandies in their place, and Filtray Naggan had proven a most amenable victim—he had begged over and over to be lifted and twisted and stretched out and used like a simple fucktoy. The young man’s lack of confidence, mixed with his desperate need for validation in the eyes of an intolerant society, had left him vulnerable and easy to manipulate.

  But he had not known who he was getting into bed with . . .

  And now Bino watched from a dark crevice as the men and women poured into that inn, while the sun began to peek over the horizon in the distance.

  It was a happy sun, Bino decided, as it was a happy day.

  Because the dangerous man knew, as he walked away from that crevice, that he would soon be a very rich man.

  KING CARTHERUS SEFYR slept soundly for a few hours, following the rape of his wife. He awoke feeling rested and content. Despite bending that mouthy bitch over the throne and ramming her with all his might, until Yira’s screeches turned to frantic moans, the woman had had a point.

  He called Rink into the throne room early that morning, after the sun finally budged from darkness and took to the sky.

  The royal advisor came in bleary-eyed, but even with his half-lidded, tired look, those eyes seemed too big for his tiny face.

  “You s-summoned me, sire?” he asked, wiping at his face. He didn’t dare question the king as to the early calling, and he stuttered from embarrassment. He had been caught with his hands in his pants, quite literally, after the king had finished with the queen.

  Sefyr had turned around and spotted Rink near the marble column, fondling and stroking himself, and the little man’s round eyes had bulged to an absurd size.

  The king had simply chuckled darkly, then moved to the side, smeared his large cock against his wife’s elegant red dress—from a profile angle so that Rink could watch—and then stuffed the big appendage back into his trousers. The queen had remained bent over, panting, her royal rear-end red from all the spanking and bare from the dress being hiked up.

  But Rink hadn’t been given enough time to satisfy himself. It was the motion of Sefyr wiping his dripping cock on the queen’s dress, using her finest clothes as his cum-rag, that had set him off, as dire imaginations of his own depraved proclivities racked his brain.

  He climaxed in his pants, then, a dark stain spooling out from his breeches, and slid into the shadows behind the column as the king sent the teary-eyed queen on her way.

  And now Rink hoped the king would not mention that particular moment in time, and he hoped that it wasn’t why he had been called into the throne room at such an early hour . . .

  Will the master arrest me on the spot?! Will he see through my pitiful mask and see me for the vile, disgusting creature I really am?

  Perhaps he’ll execute me right here, in the throne room, or choke me with his huge, noble manhood until I suffocate and drown happily in my own spit—

  “What did you have to break your fast this morning, Rink?” the king asked, breaking the little man’s lewd concentration.

  N-No . . . that is not what I expected.

  Tilting his head, he said, “Erm, Your Majesty? I had . . . the same slop Larmel serves up every day, sire.”

  The king closed his eyes, nodded sagely. “As I suspected. Then it’s true the princess did not make her way down to the kitchens to discuss a ‘new, exquisite meal’ for the castle’s inhabitants.”

  “Ah!” Rink said, eyes opening a bit further. “Quite right, my lord. Quite right, and ingenious.”

  Cartherus frowned. “I don’t need your flattery, man.”

  “Q-Quite right again!”

  “Just hold your tongue. This might prove their innocence in all of this, but I still want them watched. If you’ve rounded up the kitchen staff, they may be released back to their duties.”

  Rink bowed low. He didn’t want to tell the king that he had foregone arresting the staff under suspicion . . . because of his laziness. Otherwise, how would he have gotten breakfast in the first place?

  So, he said nothing.

  “If a poisoning is to be made from one of those disloyal cretins, now would be the time,” Cartherus added.

  The king waved his hand in the air, annoyed, and rested his forehead on his fist, his elbow lying on the arm of his golden chair.

  Rink wasn’t sure if it was a gesture for him to leave the tired, anxious king in peace, so he just stood there, licking his dry lips.

  Why are my lips always so dry and cracked? I must have the apothecary mix me a balm, yes. Something to soothe my pain . . .

  Perhaps she will finally have a toss in the sheets with me, too!

  After some minutes, the king finally lifted his head from his fist. “Oh, you’re still here.”

  “I . . . wasn’t sure if that was a dismissal, my lord.”

  “Fine.” King Cartherus sighed heavily. “I want you to go to the barracks and speak with the commander there. Who is the acting commander while the army is away in battle?”

  “Erm, Commander Infew, sire.”

  Cartherus grunted. “He’ll have to do. Competent enough, I suppose.”

  “What is it you would like me to say to him, my lord?”

  “Tell him to raise the Red Flag of Vigilance in the city. He is to decree a citywide manhunt, on my behalf, for Princess Catera.”

  Rink’s eyes bugged out once more. “M-My lord, will the Red Flag not alarm the citizenry of her disappearance?”

  The king shrugged. “It will indeed, but that is the tactic I am taking. The more people who know, the better chance we have of discovering her whereabouts from some dirty, patriotic peasant.”

  Rink smiled, showing his three—or four—yellow teeth and his big black maw. “Ah! Ingenious again, my lord. To that end, I would advise you placing a reward on her head, yes?”

  “Yes, yes, of course, I’m already ahead of you,” Cartherus said, annoyed. “One thousand Royal Sterlings for information leading to her capture—due after her capture, of course. And for any man or woman who steps forward with the idea to give us false information, or mislead our hunt, throw them in the stockades for a week—nay, two. Show these peons that we won’t endure stupidity.”

  “One thousand Royal Sterlings,” Rink said, nodding profusely. “An ample reward—a dragon’s hoard, my lord. Quite generous of you.”

  Cartherus scoffed, his head lurching back. “When have you ever known me to be generous, Rink? Don’t be a fool. Once we have the princess, we’ll make sure the informant quietly disappears.”

  “Ah, quite prudent, my lord. Yes, very enterprising.”

  “Enough of your babbling,” Cartherus said. He waved a lazy hand at the royal advisor and Rink knew that this was his sign of dismissal.

  He turned and quickly scurried for the double-doors.

  Before reaching them, Cartherus’ booming, gruff voice rang out again, stopping him in his tracks.

  “One more thing before you go, advisor.”

  Rink turned, eyebrows raised. “My lord?”

  “Call my stepdaughter into my bedchambers. I must . . . speak with her.”

  Rink blinked. Was not the queen still sleeping in the chambers, or had she been removed after last night’s escapade?

  Oh, if she is there, this will be quite a dark occasion . . . quite a mean memory, he thought deliciously, licking his lips.

  Cartherus narrowed his eyes on the little man. “Stop fiddling with your lips like that, you dullard. It’s making my skin crawl.”

  “R-Right away, my lord. Princess Ocena will see you shortly. In fact, I’ll escort her myself!”

  With a snort, Carth
erus gave the man a half-smile. “You salacious toad. Yes, I’ll not deny you your simple, grotesque pleasures, Rink.”

  He said no more, but the look Cartherus gave Rink was all-knowing. He knew that Rink would be listening in on their “conversation,” which was sure to get out of hand.

  Perhaps the king was being honest, and truly wanted to speak with Ocena about the disappearance of her sister, to see if she knew anything.

  But somehow, Rink doubted that.

  As he turned around and left the throne room, he thought, And, this early in the morning? Oh, my king, but you are a vile, vicious man, aren’t you? Destroying the flowering innocence of everyone around you . . . Hmm, yes. Disrupting the poor young woman’s growth, stunting it before it can even begin!

  Just as it should be.

  He licked his lips, tasted coppery blood, and touched a finger to the tender strips. His fingertip came away red.

  Nodding to himself, Rink made his way down the red-carpeted hallway—the same one where he’d stumbled upon a man the night before, pooling blood, his head snapped nearly clean off his shoulders. A Royal guardsman, no less.

  Sighing, Rink thought, Now, before anything else . . . off to find that wily apothecary!

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Solver Siblinghood traveled through the damp underground tunnels for hours, making slow progress through the muck and filth. Alberus explained, like a doting, lecturing father, that the tunnels were a labyrinthine drainage basin of sorts—a former natural aquifer for the city that had been crafted into a dumping site during the time of King Contrus.

  “I remember my father speaking of such things,” Catera said, trailing behind Stecker in the darkness. Through they walked through almost absolute black, every once in a while they’d find themselves under a grate where slivers of sunlight shot in like divine tendrils.

  “Your father, Torace Contrus, was an enterprising man, Princess,” Alberus said with a sage nod, continuing forward underneath the tentacles of light that washed over him.

  Catera found herself smiling, though it was hidden from everyone—it wasn’t very often that she heard good things about her father. She did remember him as a righteous leader, stern but fair. He wasn’t an easy father, but he was the only one Catera and Ocena had ever known . . . and she missed him dearly.

  “Besides understanding the need for proper drainage in a city as vast as this one,” Alberus said, “he also was an advocate for the people.”

  Catera nodded. “When I was a young girl, I remember being at my father’s side, as artists and musicians held court. Father loved those people.”

  Stecker halted for a moment so Catera could catch up to him, and then he started walking beside her. He glanced over at the princess and saw the fair smile lighting up her face.

  “Yes, indeed, he brought a renaissance to this wretched place, before King Sefyr plunged it back into darkness,” Alberus said.

  “My family troupe once visited the castle to entertain King Contrus and his nobles,” Filtray said from the back of the group, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Stecker frowned at the timidity in the young man’s voice. What has gotten into him recently? He used to have the most flair of the entire Siblinghood—now he sounds morose and lethargic.

  Perhaps I’ll have to speak to him about it, whenever we get to where Alberus is leading us . . .

  “R-Really, Filtray?” the princess said, turning to face the young man.

  Filtray was looking down at the murky ground as he walked through ankle-high muck. He tried to move in a zigzag pattern to avoid stepping too deeply in the filth. “Yes, I was but a boy. But my group called me a protégé in training . . . so I got to play a song.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Catera said, clasping her hands together.

  “Ah, yes!” Alberus added. “I remember that story of yours, Fil.”

  “And now he slinks through the shadows as a thief like the rest of us,” Dered muttered, shaking his head. “How the mighty have fallen, eh, Fil?”

  The young man’s shoulders slumped as he nodded his agreement. “Aye . . .”

  “Hey!” Stecker snapped, reaching out to grab Dered by the shoulder. The taller, stronger man shrugged Stecker’s hand away and spun around, an incredulous look on his face. “Why do you feel the need to stomp him while he’s down, Dered?” Stecker asked angrily. “Can’t you see he’s already sad?”

  “Steck, it’s okay, he’s right . . .” Filtray mumbled from the back.

  “No, it’s not!” Stecker said, continued his verbal barrage. He thrust a finger in Dered’s chest. The entire group had stopped to watch, with surprised looks on their faces—it wasn’t usually Stecker and Dered who got into arguments, but rather Dered and Sala, or Dered and Nemya.

  “Alb once told us that we have enemies everywhere,” Stecker said, throwing his hands out wide, looking at every face in turn. “So why make enemies inside our own company?”

  “Enough, Stecker,” Sala growled, stepping up and putting her hands on her hips, looking down at the shorter man. “We’re all wound up tighter than a whore with a cock in the ass—”

  “You would know,” Nemya muttered from the side.

  Sala smirked at the pretty, tanned woman, whose golden locks were beginning to fray, becoming lanky. “I would, Nem, because I’m not afraid of embracing my true nature.”

  Nemya snorted.

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about!” Stecker yelled. He rounded on his comrades, one after the other. “We should be boosting each other up, not tearing each other down.”

  “Easy for you to say, you happy fuck, when you’ve got the princess’ eye roaming all over you,” Dered said.

  Stecker’s head lurched back in disbelief. “W-What?”

  “Everyone, quiet your damned tongues,” Alberus boomed from the front of the group. “You’re acting like petulant children.”

  Stecker furrowed his brow as Alb continued speaking, but he’d tuned him out for the moment. His eyes landed on the princess next to him, and he saw the glistening in her eyes as she looked at him. Is that a look of . . . admiration? he wondered, unbelievingly.

  No, it can’t be. I’ve only spoken what was on my mind . . .

  But as they continued to walk, the princess crept up beside him and he felt fingers intertwine with his own. He looked down to see that Princess Catera had covertly clasped her hand into his.

  Shock and dismay swept through his body, his mouth falling open. Luckily, he didn’t think anyone else saw the sudden display of affection, since they were trailing near the back of the group.

  But then he heard the light chuckle of Filtray behind him—the only man yet further back in the train.

  Stecker abruptly tore his hand away from the princess and looked over his shoulder to see Filtray shrug innocently at him, a smirk on his face.

  Turning back to Catera, his heart sank as he saw the hurt look on her face. She tried to hide it—tried to be strong, but now her hands fidgeted in front of her stomach.

  Sighing, Stecker thought, I can’t believe . . . this. She knows nothing about me! And I can’t believe I’m going to do this . . .

  Gingerly, the curly-headed young man reached out, bumping his hand into hers, and then they were clasped together once more.

  Alberus was still speaking, or, rather, lecturing, with a single raised finger. “. . . there’s one thing that King Contrus did not count on upon building the city’s tunnel system. And that is, that the thieves and undesirables of the city would make it better.”

  “How did they do that, Mister Alberus?” Catera asked.

  The burly old man rumbled with laughter. “I’ll tell you how we did it, young lady.” But then he cut himself off without continuing, leaving everyone in suspense. A moment later, the group happened upon a carved nook in the right side of the oval tunnel wall. It was an unnatural indentation—carved by man, no doubt—and Alberus gestured ahead for everyone to peer in.

  The entran
ce of the carved wall was nearly in the shape of a door, the bottom raised a bit so that sewage and refuse didn’t leak too far into the room beyond.

  Because that’s precisely what the Siblinghood stared into, now: a room, with three stone walls.

  Alberus grunted contently. “Back then, it was just Rinzos and I. It took years to make rooms like this in these tunnels—hideaways, if you will—and they litter the entire winding pathway.” He crossed his arms over his substantial chest and stepped in. A single lightweight, wooden table stood in the middle of the small room, which was just barely big enough to house all seven of the group members. Light cast down on the table from above, from a slitted grate.

  “Careful picking and planning and shoveling,” Alberus added. “That’s how we did it.”

  It was clear that most of the Siblinghood didn’t see what the big deal of the room was, but Catera was awestruck. “It’s stupendous!” she said, clapping her hands. “Bury some dried meat in the corner there, maybe hang up some ornaments so it’s not so dreary . . . we could live here for months!”

  She clamped her mouth shut, eyes widening, as everyone looked at her.

  Dered grunted, “Stecker’s oblivious charm is starting to rub off on the lass. If I wasn’t mistaken, woman, it sounds like you want to stay with us brutes. And why might that be?” He eyed her questioningly.

  “Leave her alone, Dered,” Stecker said, stepping forward to get in the way of Dered’s path.

  “Or what, little man?” His hand went to the hilt of his sword at his hip. He looked down and breathed heavily on Stecker’s face, a scowl marking his handsome features.

  Stecker held his ground, eyed the man’s hand on the handle of his sword, and gulped.

  “The princess is correct!” Alberus announced loudly, drawing eyes back to him, breaking up the tense moment between Stecker and Dered. “Alas, she is as enterprising as her father.”