“Oh, you made it.” Cesphea’s smile broadened when she saw the gaggle of scrawny men looking in. “We were beginning to worry. Weren’t we, Merope?”
“No…” Nicias rubbed at his eyes. It couldn’t be his Merope. This woman was impossibly pregnant. Not enough time had passed. Had it? And his wife would never… submit to such a horrid defiling.
“Say hello to the traitors of Ostia Novus, darling.” When the woman on top simply continued her riding, Cesphea slapped Merope’s ass. “Don’t be rude.”
“I… uh… uh… I had no choice… Nicias.” Merope turned her head and looked over her shoulder.
Nicias wobbled, teetered, and fell to the floor in a faint. His companions looked at each other. They had expected things might not go according to plan. Not one of them could have anticipated this horror. They wavered like their fallen comrade for a second, but then the courage of their northern sorceress entered their veins.
When she saw her husband fall, Merope’s hips stopped. “Nicias,” she whispered. Then she saw the servants she knew so well from her time at the duke’s castle look at her with pure venom. The men then raised their swords and charged.
“Keep fucking, little bitch.” Cesphea slapped Merope’s tit, but could not get the woman to start her hips again. “Now would be a good time, Valeria.”
Valeria stepped out from behind the men. She had been standing next to the far wall of the chamber, and none had noticed her. She held up her hand coiled by a pale, pink glow. The attackers all stumbled and fell back from their charge on Cesphea. “It would have been easier to take them at the wall. And less death.” She stepped forward, her carmine mantle twirling around her. “You love drama too much, Sister.” Valeria’s scepter came down on a man’s head. He collapsed to the ground. She swung again and took the next man in the midsection. The greenish copper of the scepter blurred, and the bust of Salacia at the scepter’s head exacted cruel punishment on the man.
Seizing the moment of chaos, Merope pushed off the queen, and dislodged Cesphea from her worn pussy. She ignored Cesphea’s commands, and moved as quickly as her bulging belly would allow to the side of her unconscious husband. All around them were curses, cracks, and blows. She pulled Nicias back to the entry room, away from the fracas. Merope looked up and saw the door barred by three of the royal guard. There was no way out. One of the servants, a footman named Proclus, ran out of the carnage and stepped over Merope and Nicias. The guards pushed him away from the door, but did not otherwise engage him. The sounds died down behind them.
“Don’t tell me this was the best Duke Gallio could muster.” Valeria walked slowly into the entry chamber, her copper scepter thumping next to her with each step. “And why come for this trained bitch? What’s so special about her?”
“The duke, Your Highness?” Proclus blinked at her and his face fell, like he’d only just realized where he was. Droplets of blood dotted his dark face and beard. He turned to face the queen. Behind her, he could see her sister. Or maybe not a sister. The cock stood out frightfully between her legs. He didn’t know what she was. But he did know she was wrong. All of it was wrong. “We came for Merope.” He looked down at Nicias and wished for his friend that he would never wake.
“What were you really sent here to do?” Valeria’s mantle was stained a deeper red in several places. She did not seem to mind. “You did not risk your lives for my sister’s plaything.” She pushed the man with her scepter to the wall, and then shoved the bust of Salacia up under Proclus’s chin. She looked into his eyes. “Oh, I see. You’re under enchantment.” She put her free hand on the man’s forehead and a pale red light passed from her touch to his head. “This is not your fault, is it?”
“No. We did come for Merope. And also, we were to rescue Princess Minicia.” Proclus found it hard to speak with the rough angles of metal pressing his throat.
Cesphea barked out laughter from the doorway. “Oh? So you added another little errand while you’re out? Fetch the washing and… maybe… fetch the princess while you’re at it?” She yearned to go back to rutting again. She wanted to fuck before her blood cooled. This had played out almost perfectly. Her smooth cock swayed as she stepped toward Merope. “Who thinks our sweet princess needs rescuing?”
“The Sorceress Brynhild.” The words spilled from Proclus’s mouth.
“Well, that much is obvious, little man.” Valeria pressed the scepter tighter, forcing Proclus up onto his toes. “Does the duchess know of your errands? Or your puppy of a duke?”
“No,” Proclus croaked.
“He speaks the truth.” Valeria released the hidden spike at the top of her scepter. A crunching sound filled the room, and Proclus’s blood splattered out on the wall behind him. She withdrew the spike and the dead man fell to the floor. “Secure the last man for further questioning.”