Authors: ID Johnson
Edward seemed to notice Cuthbert’s state of intimidation and became even more annoyed. Nevertheless, Matthew was about to pay for his brother’s transgressions, even if he had to
met the punishment out himself. “We are in need of your assistance, Your Royal Highness,” Edward stated, his words dripping with sarcasm and loathing. “It seems that your older brother has somehow gotten his hands on some very important architectural renderings of battlements. Perhaps, you might have some idea as to where he obtained these sketches and what other information he may have managed to procure.”
Matthew chuckled out-loud, despite the fact that he knew it would only anger Edward, which it did. He laughed even more to see Edward’s jaw tense up and a bright hue of red begin to creep up his wrinkly, wart-covered neck. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I really can’t help you with that. But it’s nice to know Caleb has his sources.”
Matthew actually didn’t believe for a second that his older brother was able to gain victory because some disgruntled member of the royal family had leaked information to him. No, he was quite sure that Caleb’s army would be able to defeat Philip’s troops in almost any circumstance simply because Caleb was hell-bent on releasing him from this prison and destroying the Kingdom of Clovington. Caleb and Matthew had trained in every type of combat imaginable since they were very young boys. Matthew was never too keen on learning about military tactics and engagements, but Caleb soaked it up. He read every text he could find, studied battle maps,
had conversations with those returning from battle, particularly anyone who had led troops into combat. Matthew knew quite a bit himself because he was always following in Caleb’s footsteps but when it came to knowing field tactics and strategies, he truly believed there was no one alive who had as much information as Caleb. And with Caleb’s incredible intelligence and work ethic, there was very little chance that Philip or anyone else was going to be able to defeat him.
It was just a matter of time.
But for now, Matthew seemed to be out of that.
He watched between narrowed eyes as Cuthburt removed his gantlet and began to measure out Edward’s only form of satisfaction.
If Katey had been praying for a sign, then surely she got one, although this was not exactly what she had in mind. She waited about an hour for the two men to finally come out of the secret tunnel in the wall. Interestingly enough,
the stone she needed to push so that the wall would open up actually moved when Edward and Cuthburt came back out so she was easily able to tell what she needed to do to find Matthew. Beyond that, they literally left a trail, a sticky, red, coagulated trail, dark crimson splashes lining the floor all the way up the secret staircase, turning and winding, sometimes dripping from one cold stone step to the next, leading right to a solid oak door with a small slit, just wide enough for a small dish. Behind it, even from her position several steps from the landing at the top of the stairs; she could hear what sounded like muffled moans coming from the poor soul locked on the other side.
Blood soaked the so-called mattress, the sheets, and was pooling on the floor next to the bed. Cuthburt may have
seemed like a complete pussy but once Edward made him mad enough, he unleashed some devastating blows. In fact, Matthew was pretty sure the wound to his scalp was pretty significant and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to remain conscious. It was actually Edward who pulled Cuthburt off of the king when merely ordering him to stop before he killed their one asset did nothing but make him hit harder. He was also bleeding from a gash above his eye, the blood creating a veil, making it difficult to see. He lay down, hoping to lose consciousness, part of him hoping he could just lose it for good.
But, he reminded
himself, the pain meant Caleb was winning.
As he began to calm
down, he thought he heard a quiet scuffle on the stairs. He braced himself for a moment, afraid perhaps his tormenters had returned. But he knew there was no way that Edward could ever be so quiet, so his temporary fear morphed quickly into curiosity. He propped himself up on one arm, as if that would somehow help him to listen better. He whispered into the still air around him, “Pardon? Is someone there?”
Katey stood completely still, her heart racing. She couldn’t decide whether to move forward or turn and run for the safety of the hallway below. She did neither. She stood perfectly still for a few more moments and then slowly crept backwards down the stairs. She heard no more noises coming from Matthew’s chamber so she sighed a silent sigh of relieve and slowly pushed the heavy stone door open. She glanced both ways down the hall before slipping out and shutting the wall behind her.
***
Philip rolled over, untwisting the bed sheets with one hand as he tumbled away from the naked redhead sprawled beside him. She was a t
emporary fix. No amount of sleeping with whores was going to solve the problems he was facing. Invading army practically knocking on his door while all of his generals were incompetent, a mute princess who shuttered every time he so much as touched her arm, and an odiferous uncle who constantly seemed to forget who was the ruler of this kingdom and who was merely an out-of-breath, out-of shape old prude.
Even the soft moans coming from the girl next to him were not enough to quill his anger for long. He was a good lover, of course he was, but she was over-dram
atic, and it often made him want to slap her across the face when they were done. But she was also convenient and that’s what he needed today. A quick lay and then back to the war room, back to tactics and defense and all of those things he wished he could simply delegate to someone else. Unfortunately, there was no one else competent enough to handle it. Hell, they couldn’t even execute his well-thought out plans, much less design the concepts. He was beginning to think this war his uncle had pressed upon him was a costly mistake and that he was going to end up losing his entire kingdom based on the ill-conceived notions of vengeance his ancient uncle had conceived far too many years ago.
Rose stirred beside him, pulling the sheets up around her, gathering them between her breasts so he could still see exactly what she had to offer. She had considered herself extremely fortunate to be bedding the king. She was ambitious and for her, this was about as much success as she could possibly ever hope to accomplish. She rolled on her side, resting her head on her hand and gazed at Philip, wondering what he was thinking.
She dare not ask. Such questions after sex often made him extremely irritable and on more than one occasion, she was quite sure he was about to throw her out into the hallway in the nude. His well-sculpted chest rose and fell with each breath, his brown eyes darting to and fro, obviously in deep thought. He had one arm tucked under his head and she could see that he was not resting but contemplating something important. She had learned over the years it was best not to interfere with his thoughts. Most people learned very quickly that Rose was extremely intelligent for an unschooled commoner. Yet, King Philip thought of her as nothing more than a cheap harlot and he made it clear to her on more than one occasion that she was not to give him any advice, on any subject, ever.
She thought, perhaps, she could interest him in another round. Though he had satisfied her, as he always did, she was always willing to give him multiple opportunities. She contemplated
stroking his cock to see if he was ready to go again but she could tell by his demeanor that he was not interested. She knew it was probably in her best interest to slip quietly out the door, but it was times like this when she allowed herself to pretend, for just a few moments, what it would be like to actually be the queen. So, she rolled on to her back, adjusted the sheets, and lay very still, daydreaming of being a royal while the actual king contemplated how to defeat an army that was advancing further into his kingdom each day.
Though Rose was trying her best to pretend she was queen, that this was her husband and her bed, she was having difficulty getting over the fact that the soon-to-be-queen was now present somewhere in this very castle. She had known for a long time that Philip was to wed Princess Katherine of Placidia. Everyone knew that. Honestly, the idea of him marrying royalty was actually more pleasant to her than the knowledge that she was not his only source of pleasure amongst the rabble. She wasn’t supposed to be able to compete with a princess but it made her mad as bloody hell to
hear when he had shagged some other wretched member of the lower class. She really didn’t think Katherine would be too much of a threat. She was strikingly beautiful, that was for sure, but she had some enormous personality issues that Rose was quit certain she would not be able to overcome. Philip might be married to Princess Katherine, but Rose was planning on staying his number one partner between the sheets.
As Philip lay there next to one redhead, his mind wandered to the other. Though he had been told that Katherine did not speak, he was utterly baffled when he met her and she literally would not
say a word. He could not wrap his mind around how someone would simply choose not to talk for over a decade. She was fully capable of speaking, she just chose not to! He thought for sure that she would meet him and suddenly remember why it was so important to be able to communicate, that somehow his attractiveness would bring her around. Of course, that had not happened and he was completely put-off by it. Unfortunately for him however, his body thought otherwise. Every time he was around her, he began to physically respond to her. He wanted to strip her naked, tie her to the bedpost, and make her scream his name. It was a challenge he was looking forward to taking on soon. In fact, he should have married her and had his way with her years ago. But war after war had impeded his ability to settle long enough and move forward with the nuptials. The further into his kingdom the invading Arterians got, the more he knew he could use some assistance from Placidia. Though they were not necessarily known for their army, Placidia was an extremely wealthy country. They could acquire weapons and mercenaries. He needed to compete the transaction with Placidia so that he could formally request their assistance against the Arterians. Although he had mentioned his need for more soldiers, properly trained and disciplined soldiers, to Queen Nicole and her worthless husband Kenneth in his most recent correspondence, they had ignored his pleas, saying only, “We will consider Clovington our full ally once the wedding ceremony has been performed and the marriage is complete.” Those words had prompted him to send for his bride-to-be and she arrived on his door-step just a few weeks later, no pomp or circumstance, just one lady-in-waiting, a few footmen who scuttled back to Placidia, a few trunks of clothing, and a chest full of precious gems, intended as a dowry which must now be used to fund the rebuilding of the Tower at Glendor, previously destroyed in the 10
th
Century by invading Goths, rebuilt several years ago, and most recently annihilated by the Arterians.
He had
already spent some of those jewels, however, and he was hoping that his other investments would pay off. He had sent a messenger to his distant cousin Leopold, King of Gradenia, a savage and ruthless group of rogues to his north, hoping to peak his interest and perhaps win his assistance with the refute of Caleb’s infiltrating army. Philip knew that Leo had personal issues with Caleb, though he wasn’t sure exactly why, and he hoped to prey upon that hatred and use it to his advantage.
But it had been
almost two weeks and he had heard nothing. His messenger returned with little more than shrugging shoulders. He hated being ignored. Thinking about this situation angered him all over again. He got up and began to get dressed, ready to head back to the war room and come up with some solutions.
Rose
’s voice behind him was a reminder that he was not alone. He had forgotten for a few moments that the slut was even in the room. “Are you leaving?” she asked groggily. He didn’t bother to answer her, as he finished pulling his tunic over his head and pulled on his boots. As he walked toward the door, he heard her say, “Call on me anytime, Your Majesty.” Her comments only annoyed him further and he stomped off in the direction of his war room in an even worse mood than before. “At least,” he mumbled aloud, “a mute wouldn’t make such asinine comments!”
***
I
t was getting late in the afternoon when Katey ascended the stairs for the second time. Part of her considered darkness an asset since it was always easier for her to go undetected when it was dark. But she did not like being alone in the castle, or anywhere for that matter, by herself after nightfall so she did not plan for her trip to take long. She was expected to dine with the king that evening and so she knew she must be back in time.
As she grew nearer to the top of the staircase, she began to hear
a song coming from the room behind the oak door. He was singing, softly and faintly but singing nonetheless. She paused for a second, recognizing the tune. It was an old ballad about lost love, one her mother used to sing from time to time. It stirred faint memories and, for a moment, she lost herself in emotion, remembering her sweet mother and longing for her embrace.
Katey shook her head, clearing those thoughts and returning to her current mission. The bloodstains still trailed down the stairs and as she approached the door, she noticed a larger puddle.
For a moment, she could not stop staring at the crimson stain. It reminded her of a similar pool of blood, one she would never be able to erase from her memory. She pushed those thoughts aside, however, as she was on a mission. Yet, she continued to shudder, thinking of what they must have done to the poor young man on the other side of that door. That’s how she thought of him, just a poor young man, when she considered what it must be like to be torn from your family, held captive, summarily beaten frequently, starved, and denied access to any comfort whatsoever. It didn’t really matter your title or lineage in that circumstance. Pain was pain regardless of station.
That is why she had left. She had to collect some items to slide through the little slot in the door.
This time, he didn’t seem to hear her approach. She paused for a second outside the bloody door, not sure what to do. Finally, she decided to try knocking. She tapped gently against the splintering old oak door and waited for an acknowledgement.
The singing
suddenly stopped. Matthew wasn’t sure if he had heard something or not. He was sure he had heard someone on the stairs earlier, just before he passed out, but no one had ever entered. He paused, waiting to see if there was another knock, which there eventually was, and so he finally whispered, “Is someone there?”
This was another tricky situation for Katey. Obviously, she could not verbally respond
so she decided to slide the first gift through the door. It was a book, the thinnest one she could find in the library. She wasn’t quite sure if it would fit and it took a little bit of effort but she was able to slide it through. She didn’t want to drop it, however, because she wasn’t sure how much blood there might be on the other side of the door, so she held it in place, hoping Matthew would take it.
Seeing the book sticking through the door and yet hearing nothing, Matthew wasn’t quite sure how to react. He glanced around the room, as if looking for someone to acknowledge that what he was seeing was real. Since there was no such confirmation to be found, he slowly got up from the bed and took the two steps to the door. Taking the book in his hand and pu
lling it through he said, “Pardon? Who is there?”