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Queen's Road

Chapter 15

Daphne could barely keep up. Storm was moving very quickly up the road, her backside jiggling from her hard march; her mane and tail streaming behind her like white ribbons. Her ears were forward as she listened for danger, but Daphne knew the road to Aramora wouldn't be remotely dangerous this time of year: nobles always flocked to the great palace every summer, and thus the roads were always crowded with royal escorts, dogs, and servants. Very few bandits were fool enough to set hoof anywhere near Queen's Road in the summer. Though there were still the occasional few fools.

Queen's Road, Daphne thought bitterly. Even the roads had been named after her mother, who had been queen little more than twenty years! The entire kingdom of Oltru adored Sun Tail, and Daphne had as well, never dreaming the queen of Oltru was her own mother -- who had abandoned her for a lifetime of luxury!

Daphne kept imagining what she would do once she was in the palace, but every scenario ended with her grabbing the nearest sharp object and plunging it in her mother's thigh. Perhaps she would. Perhaps she would stab the queen herself! Then reveal her identity -- to the queen's shock -- and escape the palace with all the riches she could carry! She could then flee to Vaine and live in wealth and seclusion! Or perhaps become a pirate queen! No, that was too romantic. Her, a pirate queen? Maybe she would just live in the forest on her own. She glared at Storm's back and knew she certainly wouldn't be living with her.

"You lied to me!" Daphne accused, stumbling to keep up with the fast-walking mare.

"Yes, I did," answered Storm indifferently.

Daphne clenched her teeth. Her paw lashed out before she had even realized, and she grabbed Storm's arm, snatching her to a halt. They stood facing each other on the shattered road, streams of sunlight and shadow reaching over them from the forest trees. The white mare's indifferent eyes infuriated Daphne when they looked down at her.

"Why!" Daphne demanded through her teeth. "Why would you bring us to Elohael just to have him kill Artesda and Izra? I trusted you!"

"Then you trust too easily," Storm answered calmly. "If you are really to go through with your plan in Aramora Hall, I suggest you learn to curb your trust. Not all who claim to be your mother's lifelong friend are worthy of it."

Daphne took an impatient breath. "You did that thing again when you avoid answering my question!"

Storm hesitated, and for the first time, Daphne saw regret in her eyes. Daphne looked up at the female in surprise and didn't know what to say. She waited patiently as Storm grudgingly cleared her throat before answering.

"They were both a danger to you," Storm said, avoiding Daphne's eye. "I wished only to protect you," her eyes narrowed on Daphne in exasperation as she added, "even against your own foolishness."

Daphne frowned. "Well, you were wrong! Izra would never hurt me."

"Izra was a demon, girl," Storm returned, "whether you can see it or not. And so was your Artesda."

Daphne's lip curled. "Artesda wasn't perfect, but he wasn't a demon! And Izra was nicer than most beasts I've ever known!"

"And yet," said Storm, eyes glinting, "they have both waged a continuous war with the field striders. They weren't so nice to them."

Daphne fell silent, listening in surprise.

"At first," went on Storm icily, "the children of the gods battled each other, and their great battles damaged only our homes and our livestock, which was bad enough. Rather than retaliating, we always moved or tried to stay clear of them." Her face darkened. "Then the first field strider was killed in the crossfire. After that, it was open war with the children of the gods. We slaughtered them on sight, and they slaughtered painted horses in turn. The conflict has raged on for hundreds of years." She was glaring past Daphne but looked at her with tight lips. "I have seen angels and demons alike slitting the throats of innocent bystanders - mares, foals, stallions who were minding their business. It didn't matter. If they were in the way, they were expendable. All that mattered was fulfilling their mission. So believe me when I say neither of them cared about your life. To Artesda, you were a mission, a goal, another ribbon for Araton to pin on his chest. To Izra, you were the same. Their kind will do anything for the favor of the gods."

"You're wrong," Daphne said quietly.

"Maybe," answered Storm, startling Daphne. "But why leave that to chance? It only matters that you are alive. Survival matters. You'd do well to remember that while at court."

"What makes us so different from Artesda and Izra?" Daphne demanded. "What makes us so different from anyone! We aren't intending to sell baskets of sweets at Aramora Hall, exactly."

"Nothing," Storm answered honestly. "Nothing makes us different. Mere days ago, if had I known you were not Sun Tail or Princess Delilah, I would have kept walking --"

Daphne's mouth fell open.

"-- and perhaps the donkeys would have raped you bloody next, then slit your throat, and I would not be standing here, up to my ears in aggravation," Storm finished with a snarl.

Daphne slowly shook her head, her lip curling in disgust. "How can you be so cold!"

"Simple," Storm answered with a shrug, "it is imperative to my survival. Can you imagine what would have happened to me by now had I stopped to save every weepy mare I stumbled across?"

"Then why help me at all!"

"Because once I spoke to you and saw how pathetic you were," Storm answered, drawing a glare from Daphne, "I felt I had no other choice. Now --" She glanced down the road and her ears went forward. Daphne could tell she'd heard something when her eyes became distant.

"What is it?" Daphne pressed.

"It is nothing," Storm answered. She put a tight paw on Daphne's arm and squeezed. "Let us be on our way --"

Daphne heard a distant sob and shook herself free in alarm. "I heard it! Someone's screaming for help!" She started in the direction of the sobs but staggered to a halt again when Storm grabbed her arm. Daphne glared. "Let go of me!"

Storm's fist tightened. "I said we are not going to --"

"And I said let go!" Daphne shouted. She ripped her arm free and ran into the trees, following the sound of the screams and sobs. She didn't know what she would do, only that perhaps Storm would rescue whoever was in trouble if only she led her to them. Someone was begging for help, and someone else was laughing nastily, the deep chuckles of males.

Daphne ran headlong through the trees, hooves crunching and robes rustling, never heeding how loud her approach was. It was a miracle she was never heard, as she nearly stumbled upon the scene of a gang rape. She staggered to a shocked halt, and her cry of horror was muffled when Storm locked a rough paw over her mouth and pulled her down in the bushes.

Daphne wiggled indignantly, locked tight in Storm's arm. She thought about biting the mare's fingers but couldn't quite manage it and instead elbowed her in the side. Storm locked Daphne in her other arm as well, closing her thighs around her from behind as she whispered in her ear, "No. Be still. You will watch this and perhaps learn something valuable. This is what can and will happen if you run from me again!"

Daphne glared, but her eyes filled with tears when they turned to the scene just ahead.

A young mare was being held down in the grass by two male bandits. The bandits were donkeys wrapped in leathers, covered in strapped weapons and wearing hoods. They were positioned at the girl's head and hooves as she lay on her back, sobbing and screaming to the treetops. The one at her head was holding down her wrists as his companion took a small knife and slowly sliced open the girl's dress. She sobbed as it happened, calling in a broken voice, "Help! Someone help me, p-please!"

"Someone help me, please!" mocked the bandit holding down the girl's wrists and the other laughed.

"Captain Riley!" the girl wailed. "Captain Riley!"

"Shut her up," complained the bandit with the knife. He slowly pulled the girl's panties down her legs and over her hooves, then tossed them at his friend, who crammed them in her mouth with a laugh.

The girl's dress now lay in tatters around her, and with her panties in her mouth, she was in nothing but her corset. The bandit with the knife set about ripping her corset open, her young body twisting and heaving all the while, her long legs kicking as he leaned between them. After ripping and cutting, he took the corset in two paws and gave it a hard tug. Her young, high breasts popped free, trembling wildly from the rough gesture and blushing when the bandit squeezed one in slow fascination.

The mare's breasts were golden like the rest of her curvy body, and her nipples were rosy pink, jutting tiny from the plump mounds like blushing raisins. The bandit leaned down, and groping her soft breast in one fist, he squeezed and suckled the other, until the girl kicked her legs in a wild tantrum of defiance - that only made her breasts tremble in his grasp.

"Damn, she's got fine titties," said the other bandit. "Hurry up, Ross. I want my turn!"

The apparent Ross ignored his friend and kept suckling. He buried his face deep in the girl's cleavage, then slipped two fingers in her sex and curled them so hard, she arched her back, thrusting her breasts against his face. Her eyes widened, staring blankly at the treetops above as she was fingered and sucked. Her shrill screams were muffled behind her panties.

The second bandit laughed. "You suck her tits that hard and she'll chew right through her knickers!"

Ross leaned back, letting the girl's punished nipple rest. When he took his paw away, Daphne noticed an odd birthmark on the girl's breast. It was near her armpit, just at the undercurve, and would have been easy to miss had it not been blaring white.

Storm seemed to notice the birthmark as well. Her body tensed against Daphne, she hissed through her teeth, and without warning, she leapt up, pulling her bow from the quiver. The bandits never had a chance. They looked up, and arrows sprouted from their faces. Blood splashed the young mare, who screamed hysterically and sat up, clutching the tattered remains of her gown to her swollen breasts as her assailants collapsed around her.

Sheathing her weapon on her back again, Storm marched from the bushes and knelt beside the girl, peering into her face. "Are you alright, child?" she said gently.

The girl stared at Storm in bafflement and nodded dumbly, and rising from the bushes as she watched, Daphne wondered dismally if she had appeared that confused and hysterical to Storm.

The girl sniffed, her large, pretty eyes wet with tears as she stammered, "S-Storm?"

Daphne frowned. "You know her?" she called as she approached.

The girl looked at Daphne next, and her mouth fell open in shock. Daphne, drawing nearer, could see the girl's face clearly for the first time, and her own mouth fell open in shock as well. She halted, and she and the girl just stared at each other, while Storm watched their bafflement indifferently.

Daphne couldn't believe it: it was like looking into a mirror. The girl had Daphne's hazel eyes, the same white stripe cutting up her face, the same pale golden mane and tail. They even had the same curl of hair that fell into their eyes.

The girl sitting in the grass was also wearing a great deal of the jewelry, which the bandits hadn't bothered removing before assaulting her. A heavy gold necklace was about her throat, while jewels winked on her fingers and in her ears. She clutched her torn gown to her breasts and cringed, as if to hide her necklace from Daphne's hungry gaze.

"Daphne," said Storm, "meet your sister, Princess Delilah of Aramora."

The apparent Princess Delilah frowned. "Daphne?"

"Yes," said Storm, taking Delilah by the arm and helping her stand.

"Your highness!" called a voice through the trees. "Your highness, where are you!" The voice was the deep baritone of a male.

Daphne tensed when she heard hooves approaching. "I guess Captain Riley heard you after all," she said wearily to the princess.

"This makes things easier, though, doesn't it?" said Storm with the usual calm severity. "Quickly now - remove your robe. Put on her gown before they come!"

"Or what's left of it," said Daphne, eying the red tatters that hung from Princess Delilah's naked body.

". . . W-What?" sniffled Delilah, suspicious eyes sliding from Storm to Daphne. She didn't have a chance to question them: Storm hit her over the back of the head. She slipped down like a broken doll, and Storm expertly caught her slumping body. Daphne drew close, and together, they hastened to pry what was left of the gown from the soft curves of the princess.

Daphne felt an overwhelming disgust with herself as she worked. Stripping her own sister naked, she felt like one of the bandits who'd been assaulting her just minutes before. But she reminded herself that the only alternative was Araton and her heart steeled against her guilt, until it was all but nonexistent.

"Your highness!"

"She's over there! The dogs have got the scent!"

Daphne worked faster. "What am I going to tell them?" she wondered almost frantically as the sound of hooves drew even nearer. She and Storm finally managed to get the gown off and onto Daphne, who discarded her robe on the ground.

Storm gently wrapped the robe around the princess and stood, the lovely young mare draped unconscious across her arms. "Tell them whatever you want," she answered. "You are now Princess Delilah, future queen of Oltru."

Daphne closed the tattered front of the gown over her breasts, wishing they had saved the princess before she was disrobed. "And you would just betray her this easily?" she demanded, her lip curling. "You seemed to know each other!"

"We do," Storm answered calmly. "I was invited to court a few times, at your mother's behest. Delilah hated being princess, for reasons you will soon discover. She was always running away. Why do you think she was out here to begin with? Count yourself lucky for this convenience and be on your way. I will be on mine."

"Your highness!" called the voice again, almost frantic now.

Daphne, heart pounding, started toward the voice and stopped again. Princess Delilah looked so young and innocent, dangling as she was across Storm's arms. Daphne almost let the guilt rise again. Almost. "What will you do with her?" she asked Storm, trying to keep the worry from her voice. "Take her to the painted horses?"

"Perhaps," Storm answered quietly.

"Goodbye then, Storm," Daphne said awkwardly. "And . . . thanks for everything."

Storm nodded and turned into the trees.

"Your highness! There you are!"

Daphne turned to find several stallions in armor rushing toward her, led by a clutch of eager hounds. For one tense moment, she thought the dogs would run past her in pursuit of Storm, but the dogs mistook the scent on the torn gown for her own and crowded around her instead. A few of the stallions came forward and irritably ordered the dogs back, grabbing their collars and scolding them for "getting her highness muddy."

"Your highness, what happened!" cried the stallion in the lead. He was a tall male, impressively built and broad-shouldered, with silky black fur and a long black mane that lifted in the breeze when he took off his helm. He marched toward Daphne, golden cape dancing behind him, and as the others pretended not notice, he looked down at her with soft affection.

Daphne hesitated in surprise: was the princess having an affair with this stallion? She blinked and came back to reality when she realized the stallion was waiting for an answer. "I . . . I . . ." Daphne babbled, and before she realized what was happening, she was crying. And for some reason, the tears were real. She realized in that moment how dismally tired and emotionally drained she was, and she didn't hold back as she sobbed.

"There, there, your highness," said the stallion gently. "Everything's alright now. You're safe. Captain Riley is here!" He glanced with a frown at the dead bandits on the ground, then gestured for the stallions with him to search the perimeter. Daphne's heart skipped a horrified beat when the stallions obeyed, spreading out and drawing swords. She could only pray Storm had gotten far enough away.

"Never fear, your captain is here!" said the apparent Captain Riley and playfully drew a kerchief from his sleeve with a flourish. His eyes were the brightest blue and so, so kind. They softened as he looked at her, wisps of his black mane dancing across them. He pulled yet another kerchief from his own ear and grinned, tossing it in the air.

Daphne couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics. The stallion gently dabbed her tears away with the remaining kerchief, and looking into his kind eyes, she realized that she was finally safe. This was a male who adored her completely - or at least, adored Princess Delilah completely - and would protect her with his life. She was miles away from the farm boys who were always trying to corner her, from the old stallions who undressed her with their eyes, from the jealous young mares who feared she would take their lovers, from the snotty older mares in church who gossiped about sexual exploits she didn't even have - from the insatiable god who wished to make her his eternal bride. She was far from all of that, safe, untouchable. And she was rich! Daphne touched the heavy necklace around her throat and smiled wickedly. There hadn't been time to take all of Delilah's jewelry, but she was careful to take the necklace and wedding ring. Wearing that necklace, she felt a certain confidence and power. She was princess of Oltru, one day to be queen! She stood up a little straighter and smiled a little wider, and the irony of the real princess being assaulted on the queen's road never quite sunk in.

"Yes, smile," said Captain Riley and added under his breath, "I live for that smile." He awkwardly cleared his throat and tucked the kerchief away. "Come, your highness. Your husband waits."

Husband? Daphne thought in alarm. Storm hadn't bothered to tell her about Delilah's husband! It definitely would have helped to know his name.

"He has been most . . . worried," went on Captain Riley - with such an odd hesitation that it seemed Delilah's husband hadn't been worried at all. Was the captain lying and why? Daphne peered into his face for an answer, and he practically squirmed under her staring.

"Well, he was more worried about your jewelry," admitted the captain with a wince. "And it seems he was right, as you're missing several rings." He glanced over her person regretfully.

Daphne's lip curled and she clutched the tattered gown shut under her throat, as if to shut out his critical eyes. "Princ - m-my wellbeing didn't matter at all?"

"Come now, your highness," said the captain soothingly. "You ran away from him after a huge fight. The two of you were shouting from one end of the camp to the other. Everyone knew you'd run and no one expected you'd get hurt. My boys and I were following you for quite some time, watching over you and such, before you gave us the slip."

Daphne dropped her eyes. They were straying into foggy territory now, as she didn't know precisely why Delilah had run away or how she'd managed to evade her own bodyguard. "Take me back to the camp, Captain Riley," she said heavily. "I suppose I will have to see my husband." She sneered the last word, furious that Storm hadn't told her about Delilah's husband, and when she glanced up, she realized Captain Riley simply thought she was angry with her husband. From the pitying look on the captain's face, Daphne could only assume Delilah was always angry with her husband.

"Yes, your highness," answered the captain dutifully. He placed his helm back on his head, and leaning down, he gently swept Daphne into his arms and carried her up the road. The other stallions rallied the dogs and followed, forming a procession that marched in silence toward a distant camp.

Held fast in the captain's arms, Daphne could see the smoke rising from fires, could see the golden flags of Aramora waving from tents. It was only a short way up the road but just far enough away that no one would have heard the muffled screams while Delilah was being assaulted.

On the way to the camp, Daphne asked questions about her husband but was cautious enough not to sound like she didn't have a clue about him. Captain Riley answered patiently, speaking with so much bitterness at times that Daphne was almost certain he was Delilah's lover. She wondered with alarm if he would expose her should he realize the truth of her identity. If his devotion to Delilah was true, he would certainly have her hanged for treason.

Night was falling by the time they reached the camp, and Daphne still didn't have much to go by. She was about to see some prince who was supposed to be her husband, and the only information she had was that Delilah had hated him enough to run away all the time?

Daphne felt her bubble of triumph bursting. Delilah's husband was probably as monstrous as Araton, and in stealing her sister's life, she had likely traded one dismal marriage for another.