A guard thrust Oliver in place and nodded. “Right here will do it.”

Right here was the door to the princess's bedroom. Supposedly, assassins or kidnappers could scale a wall and pose a threat to the royal bloodline.

Oliver had never felt what he could only describe as outrage at the hand on his sleeve. He’d been a mat for people to wipe their feet on for so long that the feeling was alien.

The guard captain squeezed before letting go. “I should be here. If anything happens to her...” He let the words hang and then stormed away.

Oliver met the princess when she cracked the door open and stared at him from the narrow opening. “So you’re my new watchdog?”

Oliver nodded slightly. He was thinking of abandoning his post. Why was he stuck here while his friends were in danger? The king was a fool.

“I am Princess Thalia. You’ll give me your full attention when I speak to you. What’s with the mask?”

“It’s a burn.”

“Well, I don’t want to hear your war stories. Carry on.” She slammed the door. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

He’d been lost in thought on the way here and looked both directions down the corridor. Shit, which way?

How long could a castle like this hold back giants and spellcasters? In the open, the knights had been useless. Lances can’t pierce hide that thick. One had gone under dead skin like a needle, drawing no blood. But surely ballistas and catapults could deal damage.

A blood-curdling scream emanated from down the corridor.

He tensed and turned toward it, the point of the swordstaff leading the way.

A gray-haired woman shot out of a door with a broom. A rat skittered away from her.

He relaxed and put his back to the cold, painted stone. Life continued like normal in the castle, as if a battle didn’t rage outside. In fact, he couldn’t hear anything but the dull isolation caused by the thick walls.

Click. The door opened a crack again. “I thought you looked fun, but you’re as boring as the guards.”

Am I boring?

She was still smiling, and then she pushed open the door. Her brown hair bounced around her shoulders. Her silky dress clung to her curves.

A lump caught in his throat. He’d expected the king to have a little daughter, not a voluptuous one nearly his age.

“I’m going to fix your personality,” she said and beckoned him to follow, setting off at a quick pace down the passage.

Oliver trailed her through narrow corridors and downstairs. Somehow, they arrived at a kitchen where cooks toiled over steaming pots. She slipped behind a pillar, waiting for the right moment before snatching a jar of spice from a table. She tiptoed to a simmering stew pot, overturned the spice jar into the broth, and replaced the lid. Then she darted back to him, stifling a giggle.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into an archway. “Shh.”

Moments later, a round woman sampled the stew, let out a cough, and sputtered, spitting the food out. She rapped a wooden spoon on the tabletop. “What fool spiced this?”

Thalia’s shoulders shook as she stifled a laugh. She pulled Oliver along here and there. At first, he found himself shaking his head, but her childlike enthusiasms broke down his defense, and he found himself forgetting the responsibilities he’d worn like a yoke.

When was the last time he was entirely absorbed in mischievous fun? Maybe when he was a teenager, though it hadn’t been as innocent. His two friends and he went to breakfast, and before the bill came, they dined and dashed. It wasn’t something they planned, nor did he have time to think about it.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

What was this crazy girl going to do next? Hopefully nothing that would get him into trouble.

She pointed to a pair of guards standing at attention before a set of double doors. The doors stood at the end of a short hallway. “They're guarding the treasury room.” She watched him. “You didn’t betray anything at the mention of the treasury. I thought your eyes would go wide.”

“I’ve never had anything. I guess I don’t know what it would be like to.”

“You’re a peasant? How in this world did you end up guarding me? My father hates peasants.” She looked at him as if for the first time. She pushed a lever up slowly as if to keep it quiet. “There’s a switch on each side. I just deactivated the trap door in the hallway. Now, walk past, staying in the shadows, and say you’ll steal the gold.”

“What?”

“Do it, peasant boy.”

“Fuck off.” That rolled off his tongue. It surprised him, as he’d usually kept his immediate thoughts to himself.

She gasped, but it was feigned. Did she take anything seriously? “How dare you. Anyway, I’ll give you a favor. You can ask it any time. Think of that. I could be a queen.”

“Fine.” He crept through the T intersection and whispered about gold. He felt like a fool.

One guard flipped the lever beside him. When they tried to walk forward, they slid through a trapdoor that spanned the path. One grabbed hold to the edge, but the other grabbed on and they both went down.

She flipped the lever. “Come.” She pulled a small stone from the wall and inserted it sideways into a narrow opening. The doors clicked, and she pushed through.

He found himself walking amid piles of gold, silver, and jewelry. “Are the guards okay?” He looked at a jewel-encrusted sword on the wall above a helmet. Behind it was a cloak that caught his eye. Something about it pulled to him.

“They went to a holding cell. I’ll let them out later.” She punched his arm. “Take something.”

“I don’t want to.”

She punched harder. “Take one thing now. You can leave it in my room if you’re really that chivalrous.”

He took the cloak and had no idea why. He’d already wanted to grab it, and her prodding was enough for him to do it.

“Hurry.” She pulled him out of the treasury and down flights of stairs. They kept going until it began damp and had an old smell. She entered a side room lined with casks. She grabbed a dusty bottle of wine and pulled the cork with a neat twist. “A good year,” she said, offering the bottle.

“This is crazy. There’s a battle going on.” Yet, he accepted it and took a swill. His heart was pounding from the sprints through the castle. The wine tasted dry, and it seemed to go to his head impossibly fast.

She took a long drink, and the bottle sounded a deep pop when her lips released it. “What do you want to do?”

He took the question as a more profound question than it was. What did he want to do? Nothing at the moment. “Just relax, I guess.”

“Good idea. I know the perfect place.”

He followed her and felt slightly unsteady. Not drunk, just lightheaded. He hadn’t eaten much at all.

She waltzed into a garden that felt hidden, though it was at the center of the keep. A circular pond glimmered at its center, a few leaves floating on the surface. She tossed the wine bottle aside, flung her shoes, and waded into the water. Her dress billowed around her. “Don’t just stand there, come on. We’ll probably die when the castle falls anyway.”

“No,” he said. “I won’t let you or my friends get hurt.”

“Yes, tell Lord Emrich to be gentle with the spoils of war,” she mocked.

He laid his swordstaff and cloak down and unlaced his boots on a low bench under a bush. The sun had dipped behind a tower, and the whole area was in cool shadow. Was the castle's defense that dire that the princess thought it would fall? No, she was probably toying with him.

After this little swim, he would go back out there when his head cleared. The water did look inviting.

He hesitated with one foot in the water. She was floating on her back. Her ample tits jutted from the water. Surely some kind of bra that held them up.

She dunked and rose with her hair laid dark and straight. She spit a stream of water. Then she splashed him.

He slipped entirely into the pond and returned the favor.

“How dare you.” She splashed him again.

He blinked, and madness seized him. He was going to toss her or dunk her.

She giggled as he came forward, spinning to avoid him.

Every worry he had melted away. The realization made him try to clear his thoughts, but he didn’t care. He laughed and grabbed her. But then he didn’t know what he was doing. He had his hands on her, and she turned around and leaned her back into him. They held hands around his waist.

He moved his hands higher and pulled down, spilling her tits out of her dress. What am I doing?

He froze, but her hands guided his to grip her tits. He lifted and squeezed and felt the hard nipples under his palm.

She moaned with the side of her face against his. He was pressed up against her, and she moved her ass against him.

Without warning, Elstina stood at the edge of the water. “There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Halfdan appeared beside her. “I wouldn’t say everywhere. But we asked around.”

Elstina spun. “No, stop him.”

But it was too late. The king peered past the elf to the pool where his daughter submerged her pale orbs. “Fucking kill him. I want him tarred. Cut his goddamn balls off and shove them in his mouth.”

Oliver became quite sober quite quickly.