by K. M. Shea
The Princess and the Pea
K. M. Shea
PRINCESS AND THE PEA
Copyright © 2018 by K. M. Shea
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Cover design by Myrrhlynn
Edited by Jeri Larsen
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historic events is entirely coincidental.
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www.kmshea.com
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Timeless Fairy Tales: Beauty and the Beast Excerpt
Afterword
Other books by K. M. Shea
Chapter 1
Torrens was often described as a pleasant country with quaint forests, rolling hills, and beautiful lakes. Lis didn’t see what was so great about it given that, as pretty as it was, the country was apparently a hotbed of thieves, thugs, and other unsavory characters.
Lis—“Lisheva” when she couldn’t avoid it—parried a blow from one brigand and mule-kicked the second one that was attempting to sneak up behind her. Her heel connected with the man’s knee, and down he went, leaving her to face off with the bandit holding a poorly forged sword.
“We need to capture one of these men, Vorah,” Lis called out to her companion as she ducked her opponent’s wide—and uncontrolled—upper slice. When the bandit had to twist to keep from cutting himself with his own sword, Lis struck, ramming her shoulder into his gut. He staggered, and Lis slammed the heel of her palm into his nose, breaking it with practiced efficiency.
The brigand dropped his crude sword in his pain, which Lis kicked away. He recovered faster than expected, though, and swung wildly at her with his fists, aiming for her throat.
Lis side-stepped him, then rammed her elbow between his shoulder blades. He fell on top of his fellow bandit, who had been in the process of peeling himself off the ground, with a thud and a great deal of swearing.
Wiping sweat from her brow, Lis continued—unbothered by the confrontation. “I want to question one of them. There’s no reason for all these attacks, and I refuse to travel blindly through this wretched country any longer.”
“‘Don’t kill them all’—understood, Master!” Vorah chirped. Her bright orange-red hair made her easy to find, as it practically glowed in the gloom of the forest.
Lis’ left eyebrow twitched. “I’m not your master.”
“Sure you are, Master,” Vorah said in the soothing tone she used on her mare during a thunderstorm. She lunged forward, looping the thin but incredibly strong metal chain that connected her daggers around the neck of a third bandit that was stupid enough to put his back to her, and pulled.
The bandit made a choking noise as Vorah brutally yanked him off his feet.
“It is a compliment, Master. I acknowledge you are far more skilled than I am—as you have demonstrated—and I have much to learn from you,” Vorah continued.
At the continued use of the title, Lis flattened her lips and held in a growl—which would only serve as encouragement. Instead, she swung back around to face the two brigands she had knocked over. The top one had struggled to his knees.
Using the hilt of her sword, Lis popped him at the base of the skull as she walked past, making him collapse on his compatriot again.
“I often wonder how different my life would be if I had been smart enough to flee after beating you.” Lis descended on a fourth bandit who was struggling with a wicked-looking crossbow he very obviously did not know how to use.
She approached him from the side—she did not want him loosening the loaded bolt into her stomach out of sheer luck—and hip-checked him to make him stumble.
The motion made his head rise, giving Lis the perfect chance to jab him in the eye with her thumb.
The bandit yelped, dropped his crossbow (which did not go off as Lis feared it might), and slapped his hands to his watering eye.
Shifting her weight onto her left leg, Lis took advantage of his unprotected torso and smashed the hilt of her sword into his right side while she drove the knee of her right leg into his gut.
He flew backwards, as if she had hit him with a battering ram.
“If I had not joined you two years ago, I am certain your life would be far less fulfilling.” Vorah now had the fifth—and final—bandit tangled in the chain of her daggers. His hands bound, he was unable to do more than whimper and attempt to duck when she drove the heel of her foot into his jaw in a kick she copied off Lis.
Lis shook her head and turned to face the would-be-crossbow-wielder.
He had produced a knife from some pocket of his dark and dirty clothes and held it out in front of him. An ugly expression twitched on his face as he snarled at her. He jabbed the blade forward, aiming for her shoulder.
Lis automatically deflected the blow, raising her forearm and smashing it against his to make his strike go wide.
It didn’t miss her entirely—the thin blade hit the edge of her shoulder in a glancing blow that skipped over her chainmail hauberk. It did no damage at all—her chainmail was too good for that—but it still made Lis frown in displeasure.
Too sloppy, she thought grimly. Just because these men are less skilled than the others who have attacked us on our journey does not excuse a poor defense.
Readjusting so she once again held her sword with two hands, she smashed the flat of her blade down on the brigand’s knuckles. Next, she leaned into him and kicked at his right leg so his stance was too wide to be stable, and she finished him off by driving the hilt of her sword into his chin.
He slumped and hit the floor with a muted thump.
“Hold onto that one, Master!” Vorah called. Her usually carefree voice was colored with irritation. “They’re getting away!”
Lis caught sight of Vorah’s opponents fleeing through the underbrush.
The two Lis had downed were having a harder time making a run for it. Not because Lis had inflicted more damage, but because Lis’ and Vorah’s mares stood between the bandits and the escape route their friends had taken.
The bloodthirsty horses reared and snorted in warning.
Cursing, the men ran in the opposite direction.
“Don’t worry—one of ‘em has a limp. He’ll be a cinch to track.” Vorah started to trot after them, a sly smile twitching across her lips.
“I wouldn’t bother.” Lis stabbed her sword into the ground, pinning the last remaining man by his tunic. “We only need one.”
“I don’t know nothing!” the bandit wheezed as the women turned their attention to him.
“That’s a terrible lie.” Vorah sighed in disappointment as she looped the chain of her daggers around his wrists and pulled tight, restraining him. “You should at least attempt to come up with something believable.”
Lis pulled her hunting knife from her leather boot and stared at it. “Why are you targeting us?”
“Not targeting you at all,” the bandit sneered. “You just looked like an easy mark.”
Lis flicked her knife. It impaled the ground so close to his leg it cut through the worn material of his trousers. “Lie again, and next time it will be your leg.”
“We knew you’d
be traveling to Mersey,” he blurted out, naming the capital of Torrens. “Our leader told us to stop you afore you reached it, Warrior Princess.”
A long-suffering sigh leaked out of Lis at the sound of her disliked—and unwanted—nickname, but she cut it short. I have more important concerns to address than my idiotic nickname. “Then the men that attacked us previously are all part of your band?” she guessed.
The bandit scowled, but he nodded when Vorah tugged on her chain, making him lurch forward. “Yeah.”
“That’s fair strange.” Vorah tapped the blades of her daggers together. “You’re famous, Master, but we’ve never been so openly—nor stubbornly—attacked before due to your skills.”
Lis thoughtfully plucked her knife from the ground. “Perhaps…” She rolled the blade across her fingers, making sure the bandit’s eyes stayed on the knife. “Tell me, did your leader say why you were to attack us?”
“Nah, just that we had to stop you so as you couldn’t reach King Albion,” the bandit said.
Lis nearly dropped her knife in surprise and exchanged a look with Vorah.
“Did your leader say why he thought we were going to Torrens to meet with the king?” Vorah asked.
The bandit gave Vorah a withering glare. “Pro’ly because your next contract is with him, ain’t it?” he scoffed.
Lis narrowed her eyes. It’s more troubling that this ring of thieves knows about our contract than that we’ve been targeted. The king’s messenger found us in the country of Loire when he offered us a contract, and we told no one of the job. We haven’t even agreed to it, yet, as the messenger was more of a summons than a detailed description of our duties…. So how does a leader of bandits have nearly as much information about this assignment as we do?
“Who is your leader?” Lis asked.
The bandit shrugged. “Never met him. Just receive orders and do what I’m told.”
Vorah and Lis continued questioning the bandit for at least half an hour, until Lis was about ready to strangle the unhelpful man. (He really didn’t know much at all, mostly because he unquestioningly followed his leader and lacked any significant cunning streak.)
Once it was clear they weren’t going to get anything more useful out of him, Vorah smiled widely.
“So, what should we do with him? The usual?” she asked.
Lis nodded. “The usual,” she agreed.
Vorah stabbed her daggers into the ground. “I’ll get the rope!” she said gleefully. She hopped up and hurried for her mare, leaving Lis to stand guard.
Lis plucked the daggers up with a sigh—it was never wise to leave weapons around a captive—and called after her. “Remember the berries.”
The bandit squinted up at her. “Berries?”
“Wait, stop! You can’t leave me like this!” the bandit yelped.
Lis twisted in the saddle and glanced back at their captive.
They had left the bandit tied to a tree…stripped of everything but his underclothes and painted liberally with smashed berries that dripped juice down his body.
“Ouch!” he yelped. “No—get off!”
Ahhh, yes, the ants found him already. Satisfied with the unusual punishment, Lis returned her attention to the road as they started their journey. Again.
Vorah sighed over the impressively loud curses the bandit shouted. “I do love the painful brilliance of it, but what a waste of good food,” she said.
Lis shrugged. “It’s not a waste if the ants get it. Besides, eat enough of those, and they’ll make you sick,” she said. “It’s easier than dragging him along behind us to hand over to the guards in Mersey.”
“We could have just killed him,” Vorah pointed out.
Lis pushed a few curls of her dark brown hair out of her face. “He’s a small-time crook. Death is too harsh.”
“But give him a few more minutes of being nibbled on by ants, and he’ll realize the rope is frayed and break free—if his friends don’t return for him,” Vorah pointed out. “We could have given him a lesson slightly more…permanent.”
“I’m a warrior, not a vigilante,” Lis said. “I’m not going to needlessly spill blood and birth grudges.”
Vorah relaxed into a smile. “I know, Master. I just like hearing you confirm it! I have to applaud you, though; it’s a ruthless and painful punishment. I’m sure neither he—nor whatever unfortunate soul who finds his bare arse—will easily forget it!” She cackled as she wiggled in the saddle.
Her mare bore her squirming with patience and continued down the road, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Lis’ mount.
“It bothers me that the bandits knew we were coming,” Lis said when Vorah finished laughing.
Vorah peered up at the cloudy sky. “It does seem shady. Do you think King Albion announced his intent to hire you?”
“Possibly, but I’m guessing not. If the brigand’s words can be trusted, we have been targeted by a single pack of outlaws,” Lis said. “That means somehow their leader found out, but no one else has.”
Vorah caressed the chain of her daggers—which were now strapped to her belt. “Which means the palace likely has a few informants living in it?”
Lis nodded when she noticed the younger woman was glancing her way. “That’s the most likely reason. And if it’s true, it spawns additional inferences.”
“For instance?”
A faint peal of thunder rumbled dully in the distance. Is it going to rain? Lis adjusted her horse’s reins. “If this brigand leader hasn’t told anyone else that we’re coming, it likely means he believes he can profit most if we don’t arrive and if no one else knows about our contract.”
Instead of frightening Lis, the thought intrigued her. She wasn’t a warrior for the money—it would be a poor profession to choose if that were so—or even the fame. Though there were many aspects of her position she enjoyed, chief among them was her love to fight and her special love of challenges. And it seems like that is exactly what this new contract will be.
“I guess we’ll find out soon—we’re on schedule to arrive in Mersey tonight. But it makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“About what?”
“What the king is going to have us do, of course,” Vorah said.
Lis smiled. “It does.”
Chapter 2
Water dripped from Lis’ chainmail and dark hair. Her leather boots—which were designed for silence—squeaked at an irritatingly loud volume as she and an equally soaked Vorah followed the chamberlain through the palace halls. Thunder boomed, and even safely inside the thick stone walls of Mersey, Lis could hear the steady downpour of rain.
“Almost there,” the chamberlain said with a polite smile. “King Albion will be delighted to receive you.”
A frown briefly settled on Lis’ lips. I’m rather surprised we weren’t taken to our quarters first—or at the very least dried so we don’t resemble drowned rats.
Her armor and sword would survive—she had them enchanted by a craftmage a year ago when she finally had the funds to afford a charm for rust and ruin resistance. Her boots, however, were another story…
I only owned this pair for a year, she thought sorrowfully. Must I go through boots at the same rate a noble woman goes through dresses? They’re painfully expensive!
Lis banished her likely ruined and squeaky boots from her mind when the chamberlain reached the end of the hallway and flung open an impressive set of carved double doors.
“His Majesty, King Albion, ruler of Torrens and protector of the lands!” the chamberlain announced as he stepped to the side and bowed. “The warriors Lisheva and Vorah have arrived, Your Majesty.”
Lis stepped into the room—which appeared to be a feasting hall of sorts given the dizzying number of tables and benches stuffed inside.
Besides a small smattering of guards posted at the perimeter of the room, the only occupant was a short, squat man seated at a table. Though his hair was a distinguished salt-and-pepper gray and his beard was carefully trim
med, he wore a smile that was rather bright, Lis imagined, for the “protector of the lands.” The king—for he could be no one else—tilted his head, making the jewels of his crown glitter. “They’re here? Splendid! Come in—and sit down.”
The king motioned for them to take up a spot on the bench across from him.
Lis and Vorah exchanged raised eyebrows before they made their way to the king, leaving little puddles in their wakes.
“Good heavens, you’re drenched,” King Albion exclaimed when they reached his table. “Chamberlain, bring some towels for my guests. And summon Channing—he ought to be here,” he added.
The chamberlain bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He closed the door behind him with a clunk that echoed in the large room.
“Terrible weather, isn’t it?” King Albion asked.
“Perhaps, Your Majesty,” Lis said politely as the faint growl of thunder made the castle shudder.
King Albion nodded. “It’s a poor night to welcome you to Mersey. Cheese?” He held out the plate of white cheeses he had been snacking on.
Lis stared at the king as Vorah delicately scratched her nose to hide her grin.
The King of Torrens is the first royal I’ve met, so I cannot say this with certainty…but I don’t believe this is how kings are supposed to act.
“No, thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Are you certain? It’s very good cheese,” King Albion said.
“Well…” Vorah said.
“We’re certain,” Lis firmly replied.
The great doors opened, and Lis turned around to watch a female servant carrying an armload of colorfully dyed bath towels.
“Thank you,” Lis murmured and took two when the servant offered them to her and Vorah. It seems improperly informal to dry off in front of royalty. She glanced at the king—trying to gauge his reaction.