Breaking into the royal quarters is embarrassingly easy when you’ve spent half your life avoiding responsibilities by exploring every nook and cranny of the castle. The real challenge is looking like you belong there when you absolutely don’t.
I straighten my back, lift my chin, and try to channel what I call my “noble lady” walk – the one I use when I’m pretending to be someone far more important than a merchant’s wayward daughter. It works surprisingly well, right up until I round a corner and slam straight into someone coming the other way.
“Oh!” A basket of linens goes flying. I catch a glimpse of a maid’s uniform and honey-brown curls before we both tumble to the floor in a heap of fabric and flailing limbs.
“I am so sorry,” I start, then freeze. The maid is staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. But it’s not the usual ‘who are you and why are you here’ kind of fear. No, this is the ‘I have terrible secrets and you’ve just caught me doing something suspicious’ variety. I’m quite familiar with both.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispers, scrambling to gather the scattered linens. Her hands are shaking.
I help her collect the fallen items, studying her carefully. She’s young, probably around my age, with a pretty face and worried eyes. “Neither are you, I’m guessing. At least, not right now.”
She freezes again, and I know I’ve hit upon something. Years of talking my way out of trouble have given me a decent sense for people’s tells. Hers might as well be written across her forehead in bright red ink.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, but her voice wavers. “I’m just changing the linens.”
I glance at the basket. “At this hour? When the princess is usually taking her afternoon ride?” I’m actually guessing about the princess’s schedule, but the maid’s sharp intake of breath tells me I’m right.
“Please,” she says, “you don’t understand—”
“I understand plenty.” I lower my voice and lean closer. “I understand that someone’s planning to kill the princess tonight, and I think you know something about it.”
She looks like she might faint. “How did you—”
“Know that? Let’s just say a little shadow told me.” I give her my most charming smile, the one that usually gets me out of trouble with the city guards. “I’m Elenda, by the way. And you are?”
“Mari,” she whispers, then immediately looks like she regrets telling me.
I stand and offer her my hand. “Well, Mari, what do you say we find somewhere more private to talk? These halls have ears, and I’d rather not have them listening to our conversation.”
She hesitates, then takes my hand. I help her up, noting how her fingers linger against mine. Interesting.
We end up in one of the castle’s many unused guest chambers, the kind that gather dust except during major festivals. I lock the door behind us and turn to find Mari pacing nervously.
“You don’t understand,” she says again. “They’ll kill me if they find out I told anyone.”
I perch on the edge of a dusty table, trying to look both sympathetic and alluring. It’s a difficult balance. “They can’t kill you if they don’t know you talked to me. And I’m very good at keeping secrets.” I pat the space next to me on the table. “Come sit. You look like you’re about to wear a hole in that very expensive carpet.”
She sits closer than strictly necessary. I can smell lavender in her hair.
“Tell me everything,” I say softly, letting my hand rest near hers. “I want to help.”
And she does tell me, eventually. It takes time, gentle coaxing, and several lingering touches that definitely cross the line of propriety. But as the afternoon wears on, the truth comes out between stolen kisses and whispered confessions.
I lean closer to Mari as she breathes manically. The poor thing looks as though she is about to vibrate through the table and the floor below. While she speaks, she clutches my arm, my hand, and leans against my shoulder. Even more interesting. Then she stops talking, anxiety appearing to finally capture her toungue. Well, now, I think to myself. We can’t have that. I slowly but very deliberately cup her cheek with my hand while sliding gracefully off of the table. This isn’t my first dalliance with a woman, and it is fairly unlikely to be the last. Mari’s breath seems to hitch in her throat.
“I think you need to relax, Mari,” I say her name as seductively as possible, though I am sure I must have sounded ridiculous at least to someone. Without giving her time to respond, I lean forward and capture her lips with my own. Gently, at first. Soft and enticing. Not aggressive or demanding. I kiss her until I am sure that her eyes have fluttered closed, then I move our bodies closer. I can feel her heartbeat through her dress, and I cannot help but smirk. I pull away and search Mari’s gaze. Her eyes are wide with shock, fear, and is that, longing?
“Breathe, Mari,” I chuckle.
She lets out a breath that she wasn’t aware she had been holding, “Miss, I-I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I raise an eyebrow, very much aware that we are still pressed against one another.
“I-I, well,” Mari was stumbling over her words, and as she spoke, I set my own hand to work. While my right hand held her waist, my left slowly raised her skirt ever higher until she started to take notice. “Miss, I-I, you don’t have to-”
I grin and lean forward again, this time allowing my lips to travel down the side of her jaw and onto her neck. I smile as I respond through soft kisses and the occasional nip, “Oh, but I want to, Mari.” I make sure to use her name, letting her know that I remember it, that I won’t forget her. I have found that it makes people more comfortable.
Once more, I hear Mari gasp for air as I set my mouth to work, searching for all of her weak spots and finding them with remarkable ease, I might add. My left hand continued its journey upwards until I felt something slick and wet. A vicious grin spread across my lips as a low chuckle rumbled through me. “A tad sparsely dressed for your duties, aren’t you?”
I didn’t have to look to know that a deep red blush spread across Mari’s cheeks. Well, if this is what she wanted, and that badly, I may as well oblige. I slipped my fingers through the outer lips of her vulva. I could tell the anticipation was killing her, but this was fun. And such good fun was rare these days. I moved my lips higher until they once more entrapped hers. It was then that the moaning started.
Her voice, like sweet honey in the air, was muffled by our kiss. And I wanted to hear more, much more. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just about getting her to relax. I let my fingers drift slightly upward as I gently pinch her clitoris between my forefinger and thumb, lightly tugging on it to draw more sultry noises from the poor maid’s throat. Her legs twitched on either side of me, it must have been a while since she was touched like this. I continued tugging and kissing, and listening to her sweet voice. Before to long I couldn’t help it anymore, I had to feel what she was like on the inside. And she was more than lubricated. I took two fingers and slipped them into her vaginal opening, she hitched forward, breaking the kiss and burying her face in the crook of my neck, her breath was ragger and her poor body was shaking.
I began pumping my fingers out and in, again and again, faster and faster. She shook and quivered, and rocked her hips in an attempt to keep up with my thrusts. She let out a sheepish gasp, and a moan and I smiled again, then I felt it. Her walls started tightening, hugging my fingers as I was now mercilessly finger-fucking her. Then she came, her legs wrapped around my waist, and she clung to my shoulders for dear life. She trembled for what, in that moment, felt like hours as she gasped and wordlessly begged for reprieve.
And so we went around the room, taking turns on different untouched surfaces, helping the other “relax” until finally we lay in a mess of blankets in front of one of the large windows that faced out and over the seaside, where the castle was built next to.
The assassination plot, it turns out, goes deeper than anyone suspected. The princess isn’t just a target – she’s bait. The real goal is to draw out someone else, someone who would risk everything to save her.
“They need a shadow mage,” Mari tells me later, her head resting on my shoulder as we sit tangled together in the fading light. “They’re trying to force one out of hiding. The princess… she has a protector. Someone who’s been watching over her since she was a child.”
My blood runs cold as I think of Isa, of her dark magic and darker purpose. “This protector,” I say carefully, “they wouldn’t happen to have red hair and an unfortunate tendency to throw people off towers, would they?”
Mari sits up, startled. “You’ve met her?”
“You could say that.” I run a hand through my disheveled hair. “Though ‘survived an encounter with her’ might be more accurate.”
“Then you know why I couldn’t tell anyone.” Mari’s eyes fill with tears. “They’re using me to get to her. They threatened my family…”
I pull her close again, my mind racing. Midnight is approaching, and I finally have the information Isa needs – but it’s not what I expected. She’s not here to kill the princess; she’s here to save her. And she’s walking right into a trap.
“Mari,” I say gently, “I need you to tell me exactly who ‘they’ are, and where this is supposed to happen tonight.”
As she speaks, I realize with growing dread that I’m going to have to do something stupidly noble again. Twice in one day – this has to be some kind of record.
The sun is setting by the time I leave Mari with promises of protection and a few more kisses for good measure. I have just enough time to reach Isa before midnight, but what I’m going to tell her is that… well, that’s another entirely different matter.
Because now I know the truth: the shadow mage who threw me off a tower is actually the princess’s secret guardian, and the people trying to capture her are the same ones who banned shadow magic in the first place.
Politics. I hate politics. Give me a straightforward fall from a tower any day.
At least this time, I know who to trust. Sort of. Maybe.
Gods, I hope I’m right about this.
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