Wow, an over abundance of dictators! Wil’s found not one, but two! Not only that, he’s also found another member of the royal family, a Princess named Rashima. She’s beautiful, clever and devious enough to drug Aurialonus. She helps Wil out of the palace. Despite her help, Wil still doesn’t trust her. But then, chances are good he wouldn’t trust his own mother.
Realizing this could be a clever trap, he followed cautiously, weapon drawn, silent as a cat on the thick carpets. Rashima stopped by an ornately carved door which she pushed open quietly. It swung inward revealing a naked, heavy set, old man asleep on a lavish four poster. He was drooling and snoring loudly.
“You could have killed him yourself,” Wil walked over to the bed, wondering what he was going to do with a naked old man.
“Yes, but then no one would have believed that he was dead when you discovered the imposter. I’ll help you carry him out. He’s disgusting, but we can wrap a sheet around his nakedness.” She grimaced slightly at the idea, handling the sheet delicately.
Wil roughly bound Aurialonus in the sheet and hoisted him casually over his shoulder. Turning, he saw the princess eyeing him speculatively.
“All men are not created equal,” she said, her eyes lingering on his tight glutes. “I saw him with disgust, but maybe some men are not so bad.”
Wil chuckled with a hint of rancor. “Princess, some of us are down right evil. You’d better get a robe, it’s cold.”
She grabbed a blanket off the bed. “There is no robe, my clothing is upstairs. This is the bridal suite.” She snorted in disgust. “As if I would marry such a pig!” She spat at the unconscious, fat man in disgust, then led the way through more doors, down passages and into a long, stone hallway.
The sounds of the destruction at the palace faded to nothing and noises of the night intruded themselves instead. Crickets, night birds, horses whickering. The stables! Wil suddenly was filled with hope that this mission would succeed.
“Princess, I could kiss you!” He walked to a nearby steed, dropping his burden over its back, tying Aurialonus’ hands and feet together under the belly.
She grinned, raising a speculative eyebrow. “I might let you.”
Wil laughed at her and she winked, swishing her blanket around her as he helped her onto a horse. Hopping up behind her, he took the reins of the other horse in his hand.
“Hold tight,” he told her, taking up the reins to his horse, clucking softly.
Wil took a moment to get his bearings and turned slightly east, heading toward the pick up point.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet up with your family.”
The Princess stiffened slightly, her back pressing against his chest. Her right hand dropped behind her, between his thighs.
“Oh, we do not have to do that right now, do we?”
Her hand continued to roam. The hairs on the back of Wil’s neck began to rise. His hackles were never wrong.
“Princess, how old is your little sister, Ambra, the one who was to be executed today?”
“Ambra? She is six, no seven.” Her hand moved rapidly, trying to arouse and distract him. He closed off his mind to her movements and sat straight in the saddle.
“When is her birthday?”
“Why does it matter? She just had a birthday, so I get confused. Now stop the horse, I beg you. The saddle is rubbing my bottom raw.”
He eased the horse to a standstill and Rashima turned slightly toward him, drawing his face to hers, pressing her breasts against his chest. He felt her hand reach for his gun belt, but he beat her to it.
“Nice try, Rashima. You had me going for a bit, but there is no Princess Ambra. You didn’t do your homework too well. Who sent you?”
She tried to hop down, but he caught her under the chin with his right hand, the left still holding the reins of the other horse. She spat at him, trying to claw his hand to free herself.
He saw fear in her dark eyes, but she had not given up. The timbre of her voice changed, her features softening as she tried her different tactics.
“Does it matter why I’m here? What matters is the two of us, nothing else.”
She stared directly into his eyes and the faintest glimmer of a warning flashed there. She was a telepath, a powerful one, and she was trying to unlock something in his mind. She dropped the phoney accent, her voice falling into the cadence of a hypnotist. Wil pretended to go along, relaxing against her, letting the reins dangle from his limp fingers.
Satisfied, Rashima took the reins to both horses, clucked her tongue and continued along the same heading they had been following before they stopped. Wil continued to lean against her, letting more and more of his weight push on her shoulder. Being over seven feet tall, he was a large and heavy man. She was not over five foot seven and slight of build. She tried to push him off her as they rode.