Princess of Thieves

by Bella Beaumont

  The tension in the room went out like air from deflated lungs. Everyone separated and got comfortable, taking seats near the table—on the table, in Sala’s case, causing it to sag dangerously toward the gravelly ground. The big woman grunted and faced Dered. “By the gods, Dered, what’s got your britches in a knot? You already got to skewer me today—and now you want to stick Stecker, too? What, was I not good enough for ya? Are you embarrassed about how good I felt wrapped around your co—”

  “Shut up, you ugly ogre,” Dered growled. He plopped down in a corner of the room.

  Sala made a feigned sound of disbelief in her throat, hand slapping between her breasts. It was clear that she was further antagonizing Dered, and it drew a chuckle from Filtray.

  “Enough of this bickering,” Alberus said once again. “One more disagreeing peep from any of you and I’m going to use this knife to cut off your pinky fingers, got it?”

  Everyone stayed quiet as they watched Alb slam the point of the knife in his hand into the wooden surface of the table, inches away from Sala’s hand. It shimmied in a blur and then stuck still.

  “Gods, Alb!” Sala screeched, retracting her hand swiftly away.

  I know he’s not serious, Stecker thought, he’d never hurt any of us. But he sure puts on a good show . . .

  Stecker and the princess sat against the wall opposite Dered, to try to avoid the angry man. Truth be told, he was curious why Dered seemed so sullen and ill-tempered, too, but he wasn’t about to ask. He only stood up to him for the princess’ sake, if he was being honest with himself, to see if he could further her opinion of him. That first little act in the tunnels seemed to get her attention favorably, anyway . . .

  “Now that we’re all settled for the time being,” Alberus said. “I’m going to explain our plan of action. We can’t stay here forever, of course.”

  “We have no food,” Filtray murmured.

  “Quite right, young Naggan, quite right.” Alberus shooed Sala off the tabletop and took a seat where she’d been. Hands on his knees, feet just inches above the ground, he continued his speech.

  “The scheme, as I’m sure you’re all aware, has to do with money. In particular, a ransom.”

  Catera tensed up beside Stecker—he could feel it more than see it.

  “We’re going to demand a shitload of money from King Sefyr, if he ever wants to see his precious heir again.”

  “How much?” Nemya asked, flipping strands of dirty blonde hair out of her face. She stood against a wall with her arms and legs crossed, in her usual position.

  “Sixty thousand Royal Sterlings.”

  Gasps from across the room. Alberus stayed quiet for a moment to let that number sink in.

  “That’s . . .” Sala began counting on her fingers.

  Filtray rested a hand on the big woman’s muscled shoulder from where they sat next to each other. “Ten thousand Sterlings apiece.”

  “Indeed, Fil,” Alberus said, nodding. “We’ll all be able to retire rich and fat and buy our own farms, and you deplorable mutts will never have to speak to one another again.”

  Stecker felt his own heart rate increase. He hadn’t known what to expect from Alberus’ announcement—that much money was unheard of. There was so much he could do with ten thousand Royal Sterlings—it was more than a handful of peasants would make in three lifetimes, combined.

  But he hadn’t expected to feel . . . on edge? Sweaty? Anxious? He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it didn’t seem the appropriate response to Alberus’ words, whatever it was.

  Everyone else in the group was murmuring among themselves, quite pleased with Alberus’ proclamation. It seemed only Stecker and the princess herself was worried.

  “It’ll never work,” Catera said, her meek voice splitting the low din of mumbling. She was shaking her head, her curly red locks trembling, and beads of sweat perspired on her forehead and upper lip.

  Alberus raised a brow. “Oh? I don’t think you’re in a place to tell us such a thing, lass. You underestimate your worth, dear Highness. Our commissioner guaranteed that the number would be agreed upon. In fact, it took quite a while to come up with that number.”

  Stecker frowned. “And who is this mysterious man who commissioned such a daring task, Alb? You still haven’t told us.”

  Alberus shrugged. “And I shan’t. For now. Just know that King Sefyr will likely be forced to pay us our booty, despite his rage. The city could very well turn on him if he doesn’t.”

  Near tears, the princess was close to panic. Her eyes lingered on all the hungry faces of the men and women in the room—men and women she hoped she would be able to turn to her side. But now she saw how wrong she was . . . they were never on her side, and they only saw her as a trophy—a potential prize. A retirement fund.

  All save Stecker, who seemed as anxious as she was. There was something different about that dimple-cheeked young man.

  Exhaling raggedly, she said, “And what . . . w-what will happen to me, if your ransom is not paid, Mister Alberus?”

  Alb frowned, the wrinkles on his face deepening. He sniffed at his gray mustache. “It will be paid,” he said sternly. “And if it’s not . . . well, we shall travel through that tunnel when we get there, yes?”

  Stecker frowned as he studied the old man’s face. There was a twinkling in his graying eyes that was off-putting.

  He may not ever harm a member of this Siblinghood . . . but the same can’t be said for outsiders.

  No . . . Alberus is more likely to collapse that tunnel when, and if, we get to it . . .

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I-I can’t go back, Stecker,” Catera said, her voice rising in pitch. “Not . . . empty-handed.”

  She and Stecker had wandered off from the dingy room as the other members of the gang began to lie down and fall asleep, strewn about the floor like so many rats. They had been awake entirely too long, and Stecker himself could feel the walls of his mind beginning to cave in, the exhaustion setting in.

  A squeak sounded near his feet and Catera jumped as something passed by her skirts, ruffling through her dress—an actual rat. Traveling through the mud and filth, the rotting stench of the tunnels strong on all their clothes and bodies, she was beginning to look more and more like a proper Solver.

  At seeing the princess jump, Stecker reflexively reached out, his arms pulling her close. She made a short yelping sound as she fell into his arms, away from the scurrying rats that roamed the tunnel floor.

  The two looked at each other, their eyes inches apart, and Stecker blushed a deep red hue on his fair face. Looking away, he released Catera from her grip and she gingerly stepped away. A scared smile formed on her lips.

  “M-My apologies, Princess,” Stecker said, bowing his head low.

  “None needed, sir.” The little smirk grew. “That was an admirable thing you said back there, Stecker, sticking up for your friend Filtray.”

  Stecker looked away, his flushed face remaining.

  Catera took that time to examine his features more closely—fine and small, with a few wrinkles here and there, most notably where his dimples formed when he smiled. And did he ever like to smile—not that he had many reasons to in the Siblinghood’s current predicament. Brown pools for eyes, big and always searching, always curious.

  It was a face that Catera could get used to seeing, she decided.

  There was certainly something different about this . . . miscreant . . . than the rest. While they all bickered and complained like actual brothers and sisters . . . and fornicated like less honest siblings. . . Stecker seemed uninterested in those petty squabbles. If anything, he stood up for the weaker members of the band.

  There was a measure of honor inside the man that the others lacked. Integrity.

  Catera found it quite attractive.

  And his next words only confirmed her belief, and drew her nearer to him.

  “I’ll protect you,” he said, nodding sharply, then turning away again. He looked up
and down the tunnel, both directions, and continued walking on. His voice was low, and the skittishness of his gait showed that he didn’t want to be heard when he said, “From enemies without . . . and within.”

  Catera raised her brow. “What do you mean by that?”

  He waved her off. “Never mind, Princess. Please, tell me what you could not before. Why did you want to be captured? Why did you want to flee Castle Sefyr?”

  She hesitated, opening her mouth and then closing it without any words spoken.

  Stecker stayed patient, waiting, knowing that she’d not be able to hold out forever. To pass the time, he kept walking, and she followed suit.

  Dust from overhead settled on them, from heavy footfalls aboveground. There was no doubt that the manhunt for Princess Catera was active, in earnest, now that it was daytime. All throughout the city, entries and exits would be shut off; doors barred; establishments closed. The remaining soldiers inside the city who were not out doing battle with the Geread Kingdom would have a singular task on their hands: Find the princess and do away with her captors.

  Stecker had to remember that he’d only known this woman for less than a full day. It wouldn’t do to fall for her so quickly, and yet, he couldn’t seem to help himself. He felt different about this one than he ever had before.

  “It’s my younger sister,” the princess said at last in a clear, melodic voice. She sounded close to tears.

  Stecker looked over at her, staying silent, letting her get through what she needed to say.

  “I may be next in line, the Queen-in-Waiting, Stecker, but it’s my sister who bears the brunt of the burden.”

  When she quieted, Stecker frowned. “How so, Princess?”

  “My stepfather, the king . . . he rapes her. Nightly.”

  Stecker stifled a gasp. Grinding his teeth together, he said, “And . . . you?”

  She shook her head fervently. “No. He’s never so much as touched me. I don’t know why . . . Or why he must be so cruel to poor Ocena.” A tear trickled down her cheek and she sniffled.

  Stecker placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Catera. Words can’t . . . do it justice.”

  “Nothing can do it justice, Stecker. She is called into his chambers every night, next door to mine, and I am forced to sit and hear the thudding through the walls, the thumping, the rattling bed—”

  “And your mother?” Stecker asked, interrupting her before she could fall into hysterics.

  “Oh, she knows, but what can she do? It was not her choice to marry this horrible man. She is a queen only in name. I believe she tries to block it out of her mind, to act as if it’s not happening.”

  Stecker frowned. Weak-willed, it sounds like. A terrible predicament, but it still doesn’t explain . . .

  “Why, then, does she not try to escape, Catera? If you are unharmed, why is it that you flee?”

  “Oh, she’s tried, Stecker. She had a young lover once, a peasant whose name I never even learned. She was caught trying to rendezvous and escape with him from her imprisonment—trying to flee with her beloved.”

  “What happened?”

  “They were caught, of course.” Catera shook her bowed head, lost in her thoughts. “Cena’s young lover was executed by my stepfather, I suspect. But not before getting tortured.” She sighed. “I never did learn his name.”

  A moment of silence passed between them, before Stecker said, “I’m sorry, Princess. And so you flee—”

  The princess turned up to his worried face. “I admit to romanticizing this endeavor a bit, in the beginning,” she said. “But Alberus’ words brought me back to the reality. I am a means to an end, of course . . . to everyone, it seems.”

  “Not to me.”

  She smiled shyly, but it quickly vanished. “You are sweet to say that, but you cannot turn against your own people. Not for my sake.”

  “I’ll do what I must to make sure you’re safe, Princess.” Stecker nodded a few moments after speaking, as if only then coming to a decision that he believed his own words.

  Catera was baffled. Her face twisted, tilting on her shoulder. “Even if that means . . . betraying the Siblinghood?”

  Stecker couldn’t meet her eyes. The notch above the bridge of his nose was deeply engraved, his eyebrows arched in unpleasant thought. With finality, he nodded again. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words.

  The princess’ eyes softened and she put her hands on his shoulders, until he finally glanced up to meet her gaze. They held that gaze, trapped in the murky pools, eyes searching soft features, with the rank smell of rot and shit surrounding them—but they were lost in a trance and couldn’t be bothered by such trivialities.

  It came on so suddenly—as love is wont to do.

  Neither of them realized that their faces were growing closer, the heat between their breaths mingling.

  And that’s when Catera stepped forward with languid eyes, and Stecker met her embrace, and they fell into a kiss.

  Their eyes closed, lips melting together—

  Squeak!

  Catera yelped and jumped back, lips parting, the enchantment broken before it could hardly begin. Eyes shot downward to see a shadowy little rodent scampering off—another rat had scurried between them, scuttling between her legs and dress.

  Faces screwing up, Stecker and Catera looked at each other at the same time. Then they broke into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

  The laugh dimples showed on Stecker’s face as he flushed and scratched the back of his neck, abashed. Little lines spider-webbed from the corners of Catera’s eyes as she too flashed her white teeth and laughed wholeheartedly.

  They didn’t fall back into the kiss. The moment was broken—the reality of their current situation settling in harshly. But Stecker noticed a red marking peeking out from the top of Catera’s dress, spreading from her back to her shoulder. It looked like red ink, elegantly carved into her skin, before disappearing back into her dress.

  Catera reddened when she saw where Stecker was looking. “A tattoo,” she said, sadness in her voice. “The rose of the Sefyr crest—forced upon my skin by the king when he took over the land.”

  Stecker’s shoulders slumped. “He branded you.”

  “And my sister,” she said with a nod. “I suppose to show that he owns us like property.”

  Stecker bared his teeth. “Not anymore he doesn’t.” There was a silence as the moment turned tragic, and Stecker desperately wanted to change the subject. He finally said, “You still haven’t explained why you need to be away from the castle for your sister’s sake, Catera.”

  She sighed. “So I can help her, of course, Master Stecker. Is that truly your full name? I get tired of calling you by a nickname—it sounds so brusque. Stecker—”

  He grunted. “Stecker is fine for now, Catera. How can you help Princess Ocena outside of the castle?”

  She sighed. “Well, I obviously can’t help her inside. I know a few people on the outside who might be able to aid me. I just . . . need to find them.”

  “Which means getting away from us . . .”

  “Is everything all right over here?” a voice called from down the tunnel. Around a nearby corner, a head popped out—gray and grizzled.

  Alberus Solver. Ever the watchful protector of his cubs.

  Stecker gulped, swallowing loudly. He nodded profusely, and knew that he must’ve looked guilty . . . of something. He felt like a traitor for even voicing the opinion that he would help Princess Catera at all costs.

  He truly hoped it didn’t come to that.

  “I thought I heard a scream,” Alberus said, walking round the corner to face them. His hands were clasped behind his back.

  Stecker shook his head. “Nay, Alb, just a rat.”

  Alberus raised a single eyebrow, a bemused expression on his face, as if finding it peculiarly entertaining that those were Stecker’s chosen words.

  B-By the gods, did the man hear me?! How long has he been listening to o
ur conversation?

  Alberus cleared his throat. “Well, the rats are all gone now, I take it?”

  “I sure hope so,” Stecker said.

  To Catera, they seemed to be in a verbal, deadly dance, speaking in circles and layers—her head shooting back and forth between them—their words intertwining in a subversive way. She couldn’t help but fidget with her small hands, her usual nervous tick.

  After a moment of ominous staring from Alberus, the old man turned to the princess with a feigned smile. “Princess, lass, if you could find your way back to the room? I must speak privately with Stecker on a matter.”

  “Y-Yes, Mister Alberus, I can do that. It’s . . .”

  “Two lefts and a right, straight down that pathway, yes,” Alberus said. “Not far now.” He winked at her, and watched as Catera shared a dismal glance with Stecker, then set off alone.

  “You would send her away alone?” Stecker asked.

  He snorted. “I’m not worried about her escaping down here, Steck. Where is she going to go? And before you ask, no, it’s not that I trust her. Just logic.”

  Stecker nodded

  “The better question,” Alb said, taking a step forward and staring down at the shorter man. He sniffed, his gray mustache twitching. “Is this. Can I trust you, Stecker?”

  The young thief’s mind whirled. Trying to mask his perplexion as best as possible, he was nonetheless caught off-guard. He nodded profusely. “O-Of course you can, Alberus. Have I not always been loyal?”

  He didn’t answer that question. Instead, he said, “Good. Then I have a task, and I believe you’re the man for it.”

  “Tell me it and it shall be done.” Stecker stood straighter and thumped his chest twice in salute.

  “Someone must deliver our ransom message to King Cartherus Sefyr.”

  Stecker frowned.

  “Yes, it will be dangerous,” Alberus continued, closing his eyes. “But I believe you’re up to the task. You do have . . . experience, in escaping, if things should take a wrong turn.”

  Stecker opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t. He thought of the alternatives: Someone else in the Siblinghood doing it? No, that’s foolish. I am certainly the sneakiest of the bunch . . .