The Princess and The Pirate
Chapter 37

The moon was rising in Paradiso. Tonight, like all nights, was a busy night at Lady Absinth’s Evening House. Upstairs, a door opened and an angry, fully dressed blonde stormed out.

“Listen, I’m sorry!” called an annoyed voice, which wasn’t really sorry. Kyle appeared at the threshold of his room while watching the woman leave. Running his hand over his face, he yawned.

Well, that accomplished very little.

“Are you finally up, you lazy bum?” chimed in a familiar voice. Erica, the Madame, was wearing a complicated black-and-white striped dress and a look of pronounced annoyance.

“Your girls are broken,” the Captain complained loudly, then walked back into his room looking for his clothes.

Appalled, Erica picked up her skirts and ran after him. Those were fighting words! “Excuse me?! My girls aren’t broken! Your dick is broken! That’s the hard truth!”

Kyle just scoffed at the notion, finding his pants. “I’m just stressed and tired.”

Erica had a small smile. “Maybe I should have brought you a redhead to cure what ails you.” Her eyes sparkled with a devious delight at pushing his buttons.

Glaring over his shoulder, Kyle grabbed his shirt.

“Oh, yes. A pale, freckled redhead! With her hair in a loose braid, even. Perhaps we could even put a tiara on her!” Again, the Madame gave a soft chuckle, absolutely beside herself with devilish teasing.

Saying nothing, not antagonizing the situation, he shuffled into his clothing.

“I think you’re in love, boy.” That was enough. Kyle knew what she was alluding to. Erica walked over to him casually. “Two things can put you out of the mood. Too much whisky and having someone on your mind. “And you,” she continued, “haven’t had anything to drink.”

Ignoring her, he found his gloves. “Did you gather what I needed?” Moving on, he snapped the leather of his belt sharply. He had given the woman exactly all of Jacqueline’s ransom. No one was friends for free anymore.

Pouting that Kyle wasn’t playing along, Erica sighed, sitting herself on the bed. “Well, a little sparrow told me both Rocqueburne’s king and queen are dead. A new queen, a cousin, is now in charge.”

Well, that was disheartening. At least the parental problem was sorted out.

“And there were imperial guards seen occupying the castle. The city is on its head, calling the rule cursed. Besides, what makes you think that she’s unhappy with the regent? Obviously the Princess has one hell of a party awaiting her at home.”

“I’ve got birds of my own and they say it’s not safe for her there.”

Analyzing him, Erica tapped her chin. “When did ever you care about safe? My bird also did some checking, saying he saw her on the man’s premises, just this morning.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“This is different.” It was all the Captain would divulge about his feelings.

“He’s a regent with money, power, and land. Jacqueline was bred to serve men like that. Are you sure you aren’t just justifying your own need for possession?”

Kyle turned to look at her, irate at the accusation that he was simply greedy.

Erica held up her hands, looking away and conceding to drop the topic. But, women were never done. “You know, it’s not a bad thing to just admit that you love her.”

Staying quiet, he put on his shoes.

“Just ask yourself,” the Madame stood up, adjusting the collar of her dress, “if it wasn’t the regent, this bad man, this killer of women...” Erica said with some sarcasm, not completely believing the tall tales of a field of ladies’ bones, “...honestly, wouldn’t you find a flaw with any man who had her?”

Continuing his silence, Kyle also stood up. But internally, softly, under the volume of his heartbeat, he admitted he would. No one was good enough.

Frowning, she walked over to him and adjusted his coat in a motherly way. He looked so tired and much more exhausted than when he arrived. “We’ve been friends a long time, Mr. Chatillion. The next time I see you, you may either be dead or a king.” She put his hat on his head. “If this is the choice you’re making, to ride in and save the Princess from the highest tower, just be honest with yourself first.”

He didn’t answer in words. He only exhaled deeply. No. He wouldn’t say it. The flash of the assassin dying in the dirt played in his mind.

“I just want to hear it. There’s too much villainy in the world.”

“Fine. I do. I care about her and I can’t shake it.” It was a subtle admission. Furthermore, that man was impaled with a sword! So his perfectly healthy friend stood no chance at getting it out of him. Why was everyone so goddamn concerned with how he felt?!

“You’re a stubborn shit, you know that?” Erica teased at his silence while putting her hands on his shoulders. “I dare say our rogue captain is becoming a hero.”

“Careful with that word,” he muttered. “Did you get everything?”

“Well, I did, but it wasn’t cheap. If I could have some more I could perhaps get you better wares.” She frowned and gave a great big dramatic sigh as if she were under too much stress.

“I gave you two chests full of gold and raw jewels. It’s plenty,” Kyle said skeptically. “I’ve bought every element to this plan before.”

She only rolled her eyes. “And has every time seemed as impulsive? Do you know how hard it is to come across explosives on short notice? You had me go to that wretched, sleazy alchemist down the street! And then I gathered up some, ugly, sorted goons! You’ve lost complete sight on how the back-end of these things works!” Throwing up her hands, Erica walked away from him, heading to the door. “Now I’ve gotten ten greasy fellows waiting in my parlor. Would you be so kind as to get them out and never involve me again?”

Cracking the first smile of the day, Kyle gave her a polite nod. “It’d be my pleasure.” Leaving the room, he trotted down the brothel stairs.

She wasn’t kidding. Ten large, dirty day laborers stood there ruining the ambiance of the parlor. The captain dragged his eyes up to his friend and she only batted her lashes, shrugging, innocent to their shortcomings.

Well, they had already been paid, so marauders were marauders. No sense in being picky.

“Men, I promise you gold and finally taking something from this life. That tonight the have-nots will finally have. I’m not asking for your loyalty. I don’t want it. It will be irrelevant. Whatever you can carry is yours. Don’t be afraid. The worst is you return to your miserable, filthy lives with a bar story to tell. OR, you come back with a king’s ransom,” Kyle said passionately, surveying the unsoundly crew he now had. It was a very rehearsed speech. So much of his job was simple pageantry. He ended his address with the symbolic, “What say you men? Are you ready to blow some shit up?!"

They all cheered. Corralling thugs behind financial motivations wasn’t hard. There was no challenge in convincing poor, broken people to rise up and ruthlessly take back. Giving one final wave to Erica, Kyle left behind the crowd.

“Bye, your highness,” she whispered under her breath, returning his wave.

Outside, horses were geared up, ready for riders. Kyle spent all his money for this endeavor, for horses he wouldn’t return, supplies he wouldn’t reuse, and explosives. Kicking his beast and leading his mercenary posse into the night, Kyle laughed amidst the thundering of hooves.

The regent was paying for his own siege.

The ride took a few good hours and there was no conversation between the strangers. A collection of clattering jars in his saddlebags accounted for most of the noise. The moon was waning, casting strange shadows in the dark forest. No birds escaped the trees, as if all the fauna had simply vanished, leaving them alone to do what had to be done. The world of men was a messy place.

Their stampede slowed as they approached the regent’s property. Large wrought iron gates were closed to the road with the house lurking a distance behind them. The elite always thought they were so safe behind great, menacing locks. Not having to dismount his horse, Kyle trotted up to the gate. With Eustace’s borrowed sword, he crammed the blade into the lock’s face. Moving his weapon around, grinding metal against metal, he easily broke the mechanism. The sword was ruined but he never liked it anyway.

Throwing the ruined lock into the grass, he was able to pull the chain free. Quietly pushing open the gates, Kyle ushered his associates in.

Stealing from anything less than royalty was easy. They were never nearly as protected. Regardless of how they viewed themselves, they were merely commoners in fancy hats.

Wordlessly, the Captain instructed the men off their horses but stayed on his own. Handing each brave soul a jar with clear liquid, he then pointed at the southernmost wall. It was the same tactic he used time and time again—set something on fire as a distraction.

If a method wasn’t broken, why retool it? In this case, however, the tactic would require a more direct approach.

“When the fuel and your jars smash together, it’ll set stone ablaze and melt glass. You throw it with all your might,” Kyle instructed quietly, unlatching another box from his horse. “There’s more than enough. Burn this place to the ground.”

One of the men turned the jar over in his hand and looked up at the Captain. “What can we take?”

“Anything not nailed down is yours. Wait for my signal.” Pulling the reigns, Kyle’s horse walked off to the opposite side of the house. The men went in the opposite direction, already paid a fat advance, more than alright with throwing jars.

The great house cut into the sky. Its dark windows reflected the starry night, distorting the shape of the moon into a white, cold, bent blob. Kyle noted the generous amount of thorny rose bushes surrounding the house’s foundation but they were bare of any blossom. His imagination kicked in and even the suggestion of Eustace trying to woo the Princess with a rose made Kyle grind his teeth.

He just needed to get her out and the constant feeling of being insane would go away. Once Jacqueline was back in his arms, he’d be able to think straight. There was no time better than the present. Pinching his fingers against his lips, the Captain whistled sharply to the shadows across the grass.

After a soft breeze gently pushed outward from the forest, a sudden bright fire was unleashed, followed by the orchestra of smashing glass. Hot flames ignited up the walls of the house, crawling along the oil splatter, scorching whatever it touched. Quickly fanning out, hot fire ruined the stone. It wasn’t long until someone noticed.

The manor doors swung open and servants rushed out into the night to see the spontaneous inferno. The landscaping was ablaze, the ancient windows melting as the castle was being defaced.

Kyle didn’t enjoy it like he normally would. With a sharp kick to the horse’s sides, the Captain rode forward at a reckless speed. Riding up the stairs and right through the front door, he had to duck under the threshold to fit himself and his beast in the regent’s house.

People panicked, diving out of the way. It was either move or be trampled.

The horse neighed loudly, displeased with all the madness, but Kyle pulled the reins hard to the right and kicked again. “C’mon, up the stairs!” and the pair bolted across the house’s lobby. Its hooves broke the expensive Italian tile floor.

Jacqueline could hear screaming downstairs and it riled her awake. Sniffling and lifting her dirty face from a moist pillow, she looked over to the door. Her face was still stained with old makeup. Crunchy mascara nearly sealed her eyes shut.

“W-what’s going on?”

The nurse casually looked up from her knitting. “It’s nothing, dear.” She had her orders.

Staring at the woman with a look of loathing, the frustrated girl got to her feet. Looking nothing like an elegant lady and more akin to a rank hot mess, Jacqueline clenched her jaw. Wearing a wrecked face, disheveled gown, and a rat’s nest of hair with no shoes, she was a far cry from classy. “No. You will tell me what that noise is.”

“Nothing, my lady. Sit down,” was all the nurse commented, going back to her knitting project as something clearly broke downstairs.

Bent on insubordination, Jacqueline marched to the door.

“My grace, where are you going?” The woman sharply grabbed the Princess’s pale wrist. “You can’t go out there!”

“LET ME GO, YOU WITCH!” Jacqueline screamed, losing her mind. The final threads of her social grace snapped. She pulled her arm so fiercely the old woman tumbled to the rose-covered ground.

A loud braying sound came from the other side of the door. “Princess!” Was that—she was instantly skeptical—Kyle?

“JACQUELINE, GET OUT HERE!” he shouted, the horse stomping around on the fine carpet in the hallway.

Picking up her skirts, she bolted to the door. The handle wouldn’t move. It was locked. She backed up, crushing red blooms under her feet and she ran shoulder first into the door. It only splintered slightly as the success was grossly outweighed by the pain. Jacqueline held her shoulder, whining.

“Kyle! I’m here! It’s lock—” Mid-sentence, hands encompassed the Princess’s face. The nurse jumped on Jacqueline’s back, riding her. “GET OFF!” The two women flailed around, trying to bring either one to the ground.

As the woman dug her fingertips into Jacqueline’s cheeks, the Princess grabbed the arms of the small woman and with all her force, she plowed the servant through the doorway.

Spine first.

The combined weight of the women blew the door completely off its hinges and ripped some mortar free from the wall as well. Barreling into the hall, both of them hit the ground with a thud.

The horse neighed loudly, rearing and stomping at the unwelcome surprise. Kyle turned the reins again, trying to keep it from crushing the people under it. While trying to control his horse, he caught a glance of her room. Was that an entire rose garden? That cock!

“Jacqueline!” Instantly, that feeling of insanity started to subside. The screaming in his heart had faded. “We need to go!”

Groaning, the Princess pulled herself up while seeing stars. Half of her dress was split open, exposing the tan corset underneath. Courtly fashion was not accustomed to physical exertion. Holding the side of her head, Jacqueline looked up at all the noise.

Kyle was on a horse. In the house. Yelling at her.

“C’mon, get on!” The captain exclaimed, holding his hand out to her. They needed to go! The anarchy downstairs was getting louder and Eustace was still unaccounted for. Looking at her face, she was much worse for wear, looking very similar to a drowned clown. As completely concerned as he was for Jacqueline’s wellbeing, the dress’s neckline had fallen dramatically and revealed her flushed (and now scarred) chest. He saw past the gash, right to the beautiful, milky breasts which were barely contained underneath.

But Jacqueline just stood there, glaring at him. “You sold me.” Her voice was deathly quiet in comparison to all the chaos.

“REALLY?! DO WE REALLY HAVE TIME FOR THIS CONVERSATION?!” Kyle screamed, shocked. The horse continued to turn around in the hall, neighing uneasily.

She didn’t move.

“GET ON THE GODDAMN HORSE! I’M TRYING TO SAVE YOU, IF YOU DIDN’T NOTICE!”

The Princess only inhaled deeply, her glare souring more as she stewed in her memory.

Yelling at the ceiling, the Captain hissed down at her. “I. Am. Sorry. Now please get on the horse.” He didn’t give her another option. Leaning down, Kyle grabbed the Princess by the front of her dress, wedging his fingers in the space between her breasts and forced, or more kindly, “roughly encouraged,” her to share his saddle.

“I’M SO ANGRY, I COULD FUCKING MURDER YOU!” she barked, climbing on and digging her fingertips into his shoulders like cruel talons.

“AND I’M ALREADY REGRETTING THIS DECISION!” he barked back, smacking the horse to run as fast as it could.

Happy to oblige, the horse sprinted down the massive staircase of the regent’s house. On the first floor, people were screaming as the fire was already deeply inside the house. The air was smoky and the smell of burning fabrics polluted the atmosphere. Bolting into the refreshing night, leaping down the front steps, the Princess and the pirate were already sprinting across the lawn.

Watching them from the front veranda of his violated home was the regent. He held a long rifle in his hand and wrapped his fingers along the black muzzle. As the moon came out from behind the clouds he shouldered his weapon, finally having the light he needed. Fire and disorder were raging behind him, devouring his curtains and tapestries.

Ignoring the destruction, Eustace aimed down the barrel, having the Princess’s back in his crosshairs. Slowly, leading his target ever so slightly, the regent exhaled and fired.

A thunderous crack rang out across the night, followed by a piercing scream that could have shaken the stars from the sky.

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