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Underdog

Chapter 35

Pili Nasir was an Armant sheepdog -- a breed of the desert south - who had come as a refugee to Varimore when she was thirteen. It was her intention to keep journeying to Northlyn Harbor, but a farmer on the outskirts of Thalsin caught her stealing a chicken, and rather than outright murder or imprison another dog down on their luck, he brought her all the way to Wychowl and brought her before King Etienne as he was receiving supplicants.

Pili, young and frightened of the strange foreign land, thought Etienne would have her executed. That was the way in the desert. If you were caught with your paw in someone's eggs at market, the owner had the right to either cut off your paw, turn you over to the sultan for execution, or enslave you for a year. The luckiest thieves were enslaved, doing menial housework for their victim for a specific amount of time until they were set free. One was never to be harmed whilst under "enslavement," but there were many foul dogs who took advantage of those who had stolen from them: Pili's mother was caught stealing milk when she was sixteen, was raped by the Sloughi who enslaved her, and gave birth to Pili.

Pili was relieved when King Etienne "enslaved" her by putting her to work in his kitchen for a year and reimbursing the farmer from her wages. But to her surprise, the king did not come to her later and demand the use of her sex, nor did any of the stoic male Beauceron slaves already working in the castle. Every male let her be, even the guards, and the only beast living in the castle who was remotely rude to her was the white fox Mogethis, who tapped her on the head with her walking stick when she failed to understand the words behind her thick accent.

When the year was up and the time came to set Pili free, she found that she enjoyed living in Wychowl so greatly, she fell to her knees and begged the king to allow her to stay. She had never been so well fed, so well cared for as under Etienne's reign. For the first time in her life, she was allowed to work and receive payment, to support herself with dignity and pride. In her homelands of the desert, half-breeds such as herself were denied work, oppressed, and often begged on the streets. No one wanted to hire them to work, and when they did, they cheated them and paid them next to nothing, so that her kind were always reduced to begging and stealing. It was a miserable life. But here in Etienne's lands, Pili had lived as an equal. She had lived . . . free.

King Etienne had listened to Pili's speech with sympathy, and when she revealed that she would have no where to go should he turn her away, he allowed her to stay on at the castle, working as the personal handmaid of his advisor, Judith.

It was through working with Judith that Pili discovered her talents for espionage. Judith was often sent to foreign lands as Etienne's ambassador, and Pili would go with her. It was during the dinner parties and balls that Judith would send Pili to spy, eavesdrop, and gather intel, acting as her eyes and ears in places she could not venture.

Pili made her first kill when she was discovered spying at a ball in Sevra. She was behind a curtain in a room off the main hall, eavesdropping on what she was soon to discover was an assassination contract on King Etienne. Duke Wayne Harking was paying a figure in a black coat several thousand crowns to be "rid" of King Etienne and his "savage sympathy." Seventeen-year-old Pili gasped in horror and was discovered by the duke and the assassin. The assassin's hood was drawn up and their face was in shadow, but the delicate black paw that slowly pulled a dagger from the coat was clearly that of a female. Behind the assassin, the duke shouted for Pili's immediate death. "Hurry, you fool! We can't risk witnesses! We'll make it look like an accident!" Pili's heart was beating a mile a minute as the assassin came her way. She struggled wildly, kicked and fought like a cornered beast, and when the assassin found herself on the floor, she was just as astonished as Pili. The assassin had dropped her dagger, and gritting her fangs, she made a move to snatch it, but Pili was still riding adrenaline, and with her heart pumping in her ears, she leapt on the dagger first and sliced it hard across the assassin's throat. The assassin's hood fell back as she tumbled over, and Pili was astonished to see she was a fox. A fox_was accepting money to murder the king who had worked everyday since his coronation to make life better for her kind? It was flabbergasting. For one thing, foxes had no concept of money and didn't care for it. For another thing, the foxes only stood to benefit with King Etienne _alive.

With blood streaking across her face, Pili lifted her eyes and glared at the fat duke, who had backed into a wall and was staring at her in horror. He went with her quietly back to the ball, and when she announced his crimes, he didn't even deny them. But as Judith's mastiffs were dragging him away, he screamed all the way out the door, shouting that Etienne was a terrible king and that no one would realize it until the foxes had taken over.

Pili was later to discover that she had killed Aster Raine, the famed vixen assassin who killed anyone and anything, not for the coin, but for the thrill of the hunt. Born of magic on the darkest night, Aster had been bred by Maret for the purpose of raining hell on those enemies of Death. She was princess of one of Maret's greatest clans and was to have been queen of one of the fox kingdoms when they made their return. The story was widely known, as it was something Aster had often bragged about whilst drunk to any who would listen. She believed that through Maret, the foxes would rise again. One moment, she was drunkenly praising Maret's name, the next moment, she was cursing the goddess for abandoning her. For after the Great Migration to S'pru, the earthquakes, and the subsequent death of her clan, Aster found she had little purpose but to serve those masters who remained: namely, the dogs. She took on the pseudonym "Aster Raine" and allowed the dog lords to use her like a lethal weapon. As the years progressed, her talents greatly encouraged the blood thirst of the nobles, who knew if they wanted someone dead, they only had to leave an aster flower on their windowsill under a starless sky.

What Pili found most disturbing of all was the fact that Aster was very close to her own age. Aster was only nineteen when seventeen-year-old Pili killed her. She was young. So very young. And the fact that her "goddess" had been using her as a tool long before that moment to "kill and protect" was astounding to Pili, who failed entirely to see the parallels between herself and her victim. As far as Pili was concerned, Maret and the entire idea of her was evil. To this day, she couldn't understand why the foxes worshipped such wicked gods and kept a keen eye on Nkwe and Mogethis, for fear that they might one day turn on Etienne in favor of their gods. Unfortunately, she'd been right about Mogethis. And she wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't right about Nkwe as well.

It was after she slew a deadly and infamous assassin that Pili realized she not only wanted to spend her life protecting King Etienne but she also had the talent to do so. He had given her a chance at life, he had lifted her from the filth and mud that came with being half-bred, and now she must devote her life to protecting him and all he loved with everything that she had. As far as she was concerned, he was the best thing that could have happened to the foxes and the underdogs of society, even if the fools under his reign couldn't see it.

King Etienne was reluctant to accept Pili as his go-to assassin and spy. He kept saying she was too young, and she knew that her being female was a part of it as well. He also already had spies. An entire network of mastiff spies were already threaded among his Honor Guard to watch for traitors. But the king did not have a personal spy, and Pili was careful to point it out.

Etienne steadfastly denied Pili the position for years, but even without his consent, she continued to work as his spy and protector, cutting down those who dared scheme behind his back, protecting him and his daughter so that they could sleep in their beds without fear. By the time she was twenty-one, the king admitted that she was damn good at what she did, and if she wanted the job, it was officially hers. Pili accepted the position, along with the codename "Underdog."

At the age of twenty-six, present-day Pili was a young black Armant sheepdog with a ruddy-brown face and a full, curly mane of the same ruddy-brown hair. Her eyes were sparkling black and her paws white like gloves. She was slender and fit and had been working as the king's assassin, protector, and spy (before and after he consented) for almost ten years when he sent her on a mission to retrieve Princess Zeinara from the Nufetriaz Marches.

As Etienne's most elite protector, Pili hated the idea of leaving her king behind. But when she heard what Jule McIntyre was up to - and that Maret was involved -- the thought of sliding a blade across his throat made her only too happy to set out.

Pili hated the marches. She hadn't been to Nufetria - more commonly known as Nufetriaz -- in years, not since Etienne had last sent her to spy on the duke and his quarrelling sons. The Emeralds had made a point of staying out of the marches since a young King Bastian declined a marriage proposal from one of the McIntyres' young buxom bitches. That bitch was now ruling over Nufetria, the elderly Duchess Annabelle McIntyre, who still resented the Emeralds to this day and the fact that Donica and the Carringtons had apparently "stolen" the throne from her.

During her visits to the marches, it was never Jule or his brother Simon who gave Pili trouble. No, they weren't clever enough to even take notice of her existence. It was their mother Annabelle, and by extension, their cousin, the duchess Tabitha le Frey, who gave Pili a run for her money.

Tabitha was Annabelle McIntyre's niece, the daughter of Annabelle's sister, and far more bloodthirsty and ambitious than all of the McIntyres combined. Her father - Stewart le Frey - was little more than a baron when he fell in love with her mother, Sharece McIntyre. Because of his "low" status as a noble, his family owned a very small region in Maldoene, and as a result, it was Sharece who took Stewart's family name and moved to LakePenning. The couple gave birth to Tabitha, who was forced to grow up watching her richer cousins have the world handed to them, while she was expected to marry a male, pass ruler ship of LakePenning over to him, and quietly raise his parcel of pups. It was no small wonder, then, that Tabitha had refused to marry, that she rebelled against her parents and moved to Osterwill, where she ruled in everything but name.

Unfortunately for Pili, Tabitha was always one step ahead of her schemes. It was Etienne's plan that Pili should murder Jule and leave Tabitha with the blame. Pili wasn't to kill Tabitha unless she absolutely had to. And after all the trouble Tabitha had given her in the past, she really hoped she had to.

Not that Jule himself wasn't a threat. If Jule was making a grab for the throne now, it was no great surprise. His mother and the entire McIntyre clan had greedily coveted the Emerald throne for centuries. The reason the Kingsleys and the McIntyres and the whole foxhound territory of Maldoene had always been such "good friends" with the Emeralds was because they wanted the throne. No more, no less.

Pili thought all of it was incredibly stupid. Technically, the McIntyres already had the throne, as one of their relatives had his butt on it. Etienne was related to both the McIntyres and the Kingsleys, who had married one foxhound from each of their respective clans in an attempt to garner much-needed peace between the families. Duke Verneus McIntyre was married to the Duchess Victoria Kingsley in an attempt to still the waters. The eventual result was Etienne, high king of the world. But somehow, that still wasn't enough for the McIntyres, who believed Etienne was doing a piss-poor job as king and wanted him removed. And what was more, they were extremely bitter that he ignored them entirely, refusing to visit the marches and treating them as if they were unimportant. Pili knew there was nothing so horrible to a noble as being unimportant. The McIntyres played nice to the king's face, sending him cheerful letters and invitations, but behind his back? They cursed his name and schemed against him. Pili had seen the truth whilst spying on them and had foiled some of their earlier schemes easily enough. After all the trouble they had given her in the last few years, she would have liked to merrily butcher all the McIntyres, but she had strict orders to kill only when it was unavoidable. Her priority was Princess Zeinara . . . and Prince Ettoras.

Prince Ettoras. Present-day Pili smiled at her reflection as she thought of the prince. Was he handsome like his father? Would he listen when she'd come for him? What could she say to gain his trust? She would have to rely on Zeinara for that, she supposed. She hummed and gently smeared eyeliner around her slanted black eyes. She was in a shabby room in the servant quarters of Canderly Manor, standing at the mirror over the dresser as beams of sunlight filtered gently across her lover on the bed. The male on the bed behind her was a young foxhound and one of the few servants in the manor who wasn't only after dick. She had infiltrated the manor the night before by slipping like a cat burglar through his window. She'd been certain the room was empty, but imagine her surprise when she discovered the young foxhound sitting up in his bed, masturbating as if the thick erection in his fist would explode. He froze to see her there, clad in tight traveling pants and a loose black blouse, her mane tumbling in pretty eyes, her breasts riding high. And she looked at him and thought, "What the hell?" It had been too long since she'd last made love.

Present-day Pili set her heel on a nearby chair and her mane tumbled over her shoulder as she started buckling up her boot. Everything was in place from her "scouting" of the day before. At exactly 6 that morning, Tabitha would take her usual glass of wine -- which Pili had drugged -- and pass out in the bath (if Pili was lucky, she would drown). While Tabitha was temporarily indisposed, Pili would escape with Zeinara, and Jule would keel over from his poisoned breakfast, leaving Tabitha to awake in her bedroom with Jule dead and no alibi. The manor would be left to think Tabitha had orchestrated the murder, accidentally killing her cousin whilst trying to murder Zeinara. Pili had already left a few incriminating vials and notes - supposedly written by Tabitha - around the manor.

Pili smiled when the male moaned and sat up on one elbow to look at her. He was so young and cute, a foxhound with a long red mane that he normally kept in a tail. But his mane was down this morning, loose and wild after their romp of the night before. He was nineteen years old, and his body was sturdy and toned with muscles from having worked in the stables at Canderly all his life. He'd been a virgin, had confessed it in a whisper after she was done riding him. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and knew it would be prudent to kill him. Then he wouldn't be able to betray her later when she was smuggling Zeinara and Ettoras out of the manor. But she looked at his innocent smile and she . . . couldn't.

Pili, you're getting soft, Pili thought as she stood and pushed her mane behind her ear.

The boy's happy eyes danced over her. "What's your name? I'm Phillip."

Pili turned away and slowly pulled a dagger from her cloak. Ye gods, don't tell me your name!

"D'you come to rob the marquis?" the boy went on. She could hear the mattress shifting as he got up, could hear his bare feet as he crossed the room to her. She closed her eyes when he squeezed her shoulders and buried a kiss in her neck. "I won't tell anyone. I never saw you . . . mmm, you are so pretty."

Pili trembled when he squeezed one of her high breasts and pinched her nipple through the fabric. Her nipples were incredibly sensitive. Sometimes she orgasmed just from having them pinched.

"Take me with you?"

Pili sadly closed her eyes. "No," she whispered hoarsely. His paws . . . his paws were everywhere. His fingers found her clit and gently massaged through her pants until it swelled. She couldn't think. Her lashes fluttered.

"At least tell me your name," he whispered sadly. "You were my first. I'd like to know."

Pili turned to him with the dagger. "Call me Underdog," she said and knocked him on the temple with the pommel. His eyes rolled back and he keeled over.

There were several minutes when Pili couldn't move. She just stood in the middle of the room, in the sunlight, and stared at the boy's unconscious body as she willed herself to kill him. But no. Not this one. Not this time. He was so young and so sweet. One day, he would make some girl very happy, would raise pups with her and live a normal life. And if she admitted it, that was all she'd never wanted. He was all she'd ever wanted. To be normal, to be safe. But who was she to desire a normal life? As Etienne's assassin, she had no name, no family, and had cut herself off emotionally from everyone she'd ever cared for. If she died, it would make things easier on them. If they died, it would make things easier on her. It always had to be easy to do her job. She had to live as if she were dead. Love was for the living.

Pili went to the dresser again and rifled through it. The easiest way to blend in was to blend in. So long as she wore servant's clothing and acted casual, they would believe she belonged whether she was a foxhound or not. All the servants in the manor were male, but she had passed for male plenty of times in the past. This morning would be no different.

Fully dressed in Phillip's pants and loose shirt, Pili tucked her dagger in her boot and slipped into the hall, her bright brown mane pulled back in a curly tail. Servants were already rising, filling washbasins with water, preparing for the day's chores. Someone mistook her for Philip from the back and told her to hurry to the stables, as one of the horses was in a fit.

Pili made her way through the halls and silently resented the fact that she hadn't taken the place of a house servant. Instead, she was wearing the clothing of a stable boy, and many house servants expressed surprise to see her walking through the upper floors of the manor. Once they got past their initial shock that a stable boy was muddying the second floor carpets, they looked at her twice and realized she wasn't part of the all-foxhound staff. A few she had to punch unconscious and leave behind curtains, but one tried to scream and raise the alarm, and she was forced to kill him, quick and clean. As he was running away, she grabbed his tail, yanked him back, and with sorrow in her black eyes, sharply snapped his neck. The servant slumped in her arms, she dragged his body into an empty room, and it was there that she stripped his clothing and exchanged hers for a more appropriate look. When she stepped into the hall again, she was wearing the clothing of a house servant, and there were very few incidents after that.

It was breakfast time in the manor, and Pili knew the quickest way to Zeinara was to pretend to take her breakfast to her. She made her way fast to the kitchen. The chef there was a chubby and cheerful Dalmatian bitch, who asked if Pili was "new" to the staff and winked at her as she handed over Zeinara's breakfast tray, along with happily chattered directions to Zeinara's bed chamber. Pili was flabbergasted. The Dalmatian clearly knew she was an infiltrator. The Dalmatian was helping her.

But there was no time to ponder the chef's seeming eagerness to help Zeinara's rescuer. With the breakfast tray in both paws, Pili mentally repeated the Dalmatian's directions. Second floor, last room on the right . . . second floor, last room on the . . .

"You there! Is that mine?" snapped a voice.

Pili scowled and halted in the middle of the hall. She could hear Jule McIntyre behind her, his clothing rustling softly. Why was he alive? It could only mean he hadn't received his breakfast yet . . . which meant she might have actually killed the servant who was supposed to bring it to him. Shit.

With a blank expression, Pili slowly turned to find Jule tying on his housecoat. No clothing poked from under it, and she realized he was naked beneath. His red mane was loose around his shoulders and his cold gray eyes snapped impatiently.

"Well?" he demanded of her. "Oh, bother if it's mine or not - bring it to me!"

Pili set her fangs and obeyed, moving quickly toward the marquis. She kept her head down over the tray, and as she passed him into his bedchamber, she felt his eyes graze over her. It made her fur stand on end.

"On the table over there," he ordered, closing the door behind her.

Pili's heart skipped a beat. He had closed the door. He meant for her to stay. With her head still down, she turned to face him. "Will that be all, m'lord?" she muttered, keeping her voice as deep as possible. She heard him move through the room, and then he was behind her, stroking her mane behind her ear.

"No, that won't be all," he whispered softly. She went still when his paw smoothed down her back to her tail. He slowly squeezed her right cheek. "Mmm. So you're to be Ra-ra's replacement. Nice and soft. Never done a hard day's work in your life, have you? We'll soon change that."

Pili's teeth set.

"I sent away for something exotic. I wanted a little Sloughi boy. . . . but an Armant. Hmm." He reached around and started unbuttoning her pants. "You'll do."

Pili's heart was pounding. He was taking her pants off, and her dagger was in her boot. She might not reach it in time. And as if he'd read her mind, he gathered her slender wrists behind her back and bent her slowly over the back of an armchair. His teeth nibbled her ear, and then he was yanking her pants down, roughly and eagerly. She felt the slap of his erection against her soft backside, and then he had plunged his way under her tail. Her eyes fluttered wide and she gasped shrilly before she could stop herself. He was slick and wet and warm, as if he'd lubricated while waiting for his breakfast, and he slid inside her right to the base, holding her straining anus open wide. She struggled and bucked beneath him, her tail flashing as he plunged inside, but he tightened his hold on her wrists and whispered soothingly for her to be still.

"I asked for a toy from a brothel," he complained, slapping aside her tail. "But you have clearly never had dick in your ass - shh, shh. You'll enjoy it. I'm nice and greasy, my boy. Just for you."

He moved against her, moaning and panting, and as the lubricant slipped wet down her buttocks, the pleasure drummed deep inside her - so deep, she felt drool slip over her lip. Her clit was swelling, her nipples were hardening, and before she realized what was happening, she was gasping and sighing as he made love to her over the chair. She drew her knee up and rested it on the armrest, which forced her soft cheeks together on his erection. He sighed as her warm softness enclosed him and slid himself deeper. Her eyes rolled back, and still holding her wrists, he reached around with his free paw to touch her gasping lips. Then he bit her neck savagely, and she cried out as he pounded himself harder, deeper, with a sudden aggression that paralyzed her.

"Ah! A-Ah! Ah! Ah!" Her screams were high-pitched and shrill, but it didn't seem to register with him. He banged her so hard, her mane tumbled in her face.

"Mm . . . m-maybe . . . it's a good thing they sent a virgin . . ." he whispered breathlessly. "So . . . _tight._You like Daddy's cock in you? Let's see if you do."

Pili went still when his paw slipped around the front of her body, searching for a penis that wasn't there. Instead, his fingers found the cleft of her swollen vagina lips and he froze. With an angry snarl, he snatched her around. She looked at him defiantly as he tore her shirt open, revealing her high, trembling breasts in the sunlight. He grimaced.

"I asked for a male. A male!" he growled and gave her a backslap that sent her to the floor.

Pili lay on the carpet, stunned from the blow. She could hear him storming through the room as the pain spread in a web through her loose teeth. Her fang had cut her lip and she tasted blood.

"Is it so hard? Really? A bloke asks for something with a dick and everyone wants to give him pussy." Jule dropped in the chair behind his desk, and Pili could hear him pouring himself a glass of wine. Someone knocked on the door. "Who is it, for god's sake!" Jule shouted.

Pili slowly sat up as the door opened. Jule was sitting behind his desk, spreading some white, powdery drug across a plate. His nose was white from the stuff. His eyes snapped angrily on the servant standing meekly in the door. With the servant . . . was a young male Sloughi. Pili went still. "Ra-ra's" real replacement had come. Shit. She slowly reached for the dagger in her boot.

"He's just arrived, your grace," said the servant. "Meet Shakir, your new . . . toy. The parcel that came with him says he also dances --"

"Shakir!" Jule shouted. He waved an angry paw at Pili. "Then who in bloody hell is that?"

The apparent Shakir and the foxhound servant both looked at Pili. She was sitting on the floor with her clothing hanging off and her naked breasts jutting from her torn shirt. Her mane was a ruffled mess that tumbled prettily in one slanted eye, and her tail curled uncertainly across the carpet. The foxhound servant slowly glared at her, and Pili knew he had realized who she really was.

But it hadn't seemed to register with Jule that Pili was an imposture. He sat behind his desk, bitterly sipping his wine, and then a horrified look crossed his face, and he choked and sputtered as he stared in wonder at his empty glass. Pili's lips parted in surprise when she realized what was happening: Jule was drinking the wine she had drugged for Tabitha. The marquis lifted a finger . . . and promptly fell facedown on the desk.

The foxhound servant opened his mouth to shout, but he didn't have a chance to sound the alarm: Pili had already moved through the room, was standing behind him, and in a flash, had broken his neck. He slumped immediately to the floor, and Pili shut the door before someone happened along.

With the door closed, Pili grabbed Jule by the hair and neatly slit his throat. Getting sloppy, Pili, she thought as she let his face drop on the desk.

Pili avoided the Slough slave's eye as she buttoned her shirt over her naked breasts. The Sloughi was so shocked by her quick and cold precision, he couldn't move. He stood near the door, a smooth black dog with tan paws, clad in absolutely nothing except a thin golden thong that cradled his heavy penis and sack. Around his throat was a matching collar, and his long, silky black mane fell loose to his tail, its ends gathered in a small gold band. His long lashes blinked and he looked at Pili with trembling fear. He seemed convinced she was going to kill him next, but when she only turned toward the door, he fell to his knees and begged in the language of the desert dogs for her to take him with her. He kept his head down as he wept in fear, and his long mane fell forward to hide his narrow face.

"P-Please, take me, mistress," he said in her native tongue, a tongue she would have been happy never to hear again in her life. "I am afraid in these . . . strange lands."

Pili stood at the door, her back to the frightened male, and was suddenly very tired of males asking her to take them. But it occurred to her that Shakir could work as a part of her cover: with both of them being desert dogs, she could pretend she was delivering him to the marquis. She only had so much time before Tabitha acted: if Jule had gotten his cousin's wine by mistake, then Tabitha was up and about the manor.

Pili took Shakir by the arm and led him into the hall, and it worked: every servant who encountered them thought she was delivering the marquis his new "toy." She told them that she'd heard "his grace" had gone to see the princess that morning, and they were only too eager to send her in Zeinara's direction. They seemed to fear Jule's pending tantrum if he weren't to receive his long awaited sex slave, and as the servants gossiped about Jule and his "old toy" Ettoras, Pili could see the horror on Shakir's face: such pleasurable torments he would have known with Jule were torments still.

They came at last to Zeinara's door, and Pili listened only a moment before barging inside. She'd heard the voices and could only assume that the male in the room with Zeinara was a foxhound servant, so she was surprised to discover Zeinara sitting at a vanity with a male Dalmatian brushing her long golden mane. She stopped short, uncertain whether the Dalmatian belonged to Jule or not. But was there really time to hesitate? She moved toward the servant at once, prepared to knock him unconscious and secure the princess. The Dalmatian looked at her in shock as she came running at him with her dagger, but Zeinara screamed for Pili to stop, and shoving the Dalmatian aside, she sprang from her seat.

Pili barely had time to stop herself. Breathless and impatient, she staggered to a halt and snapped for Shakir to shut the door before someone came. She heard the boy quickly obey as her dark eyes darted between the flushed and indignant princess and the flushed and horrified Dalmatian.

Pili was glad to see Princess Zeinara was already dressed in her traveling pants, boots, and blouse and seemed to be in one piece. The assassin nodded and tucked her dagger in her boot. "You got my message. Good." She jerked her head at the Dalmatian. "Who's he?"

"He's posing as my servant!" Zeinara snapped, a golden lick of mane falling in her father's furious blue eyes. "He's my friend and you nearly killed him, Pili. Apologize!"

"Your majesty," the Dalmatian muttered to his boots. "That isn't necess --"

"Yes, it's necessary," Zeinara said over him and folded her arms. "Apologize, Pili."

"Stop calling me by my real name!" Pili snapped. "We haven't time for this foolishness, your majesty. The duchess didn't get the wine and that moron Jule drank it instead. We only have so much time before his body is discovered! Get your things quickly and come with me. We will find your brother and be gone. Move!"

Zeinara obeyed, and the Dalmatian helped her stuff several items into a bag. Pili was surprised to realize they were actually stealing toiletries from the bedroom. Well, whatever would help them survive the journey back to the Wychowl.

When the princess was ready, the others went to the door, but Pili nodded them out the window.

"We'll enter the dungeons from the west wing," Pili said, watching impatiently as Zeinara and the Dalmatian climbed down the trellis to the bushes below. She nodded for Shakir to follow them, and after hesitating, he obeyed. Pili set her boot over the windowsill and started down after the others. "I scouted the grounds yesterday," she called as she climbed, "and I know at least two clear entrances to the dungeons, one a secret passage." She landed lightly on the grass and dusted herself off. It took her a moment to realize the Dalmatian was staring at her in wonder.

"Who are you?" the Dalmatian asked breathlessly.

"Underdog," Pili replied shortly and looked away.

The Dalmatian smiled. "I-I'm Wilmer," he said and promptly turned pink.

Pili didn't know what to make of his blushing, so she turned away. Why did he have to be so cute? "Come, your majesty. This way."

"But wait a minute," Zeinara demanded. She pointed at Shakir, who was fidgeting and muttering a prayer to the desert goddess of the moon. "Who the bloody hell --?"

"No time to explain!" Pili snapped. "Do you want to save your brother or not? Come!" She took off along the wall, keeping to the shadows.

Wilmer hung back and whispered dreamily, "Underdog."