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Secret Brothers

Chapter 39

"Because I let vengeance steal my heart," Motsumi said darkly, "Tabitha and this Hawkeye now have the artifacts. We can not allow them to use them. The next time the guards come, we look for any opportunity to escape."

But the guards were careful. Very careful. They were never so fortunate that a guard dropped his keys or stood too closely to a cell. Even those foxhounds who ganged up on Ettoras, though dazed and disoriented after every orgasm, were still careful enough never to drop their guard.

The group spent three days in the cells together, and Ettoras watched in silent amazement as Motsumi, Palesa, and Florian formed a slow bond. The Guides listened in wonder as Florian told Motsumi and Palesa about his efforts to help the foxes, and Motsumi guiltily admitted that Florian had done more for the foxes than he had ever tried, despite the fact that it was his sworn duty to guide the lost. Before long, it became apparent that Motsumi viewed Florian with approval and respect, citing him as a lost young male who had found his own way - and without the aid of a Guide. It baffled Motsumi and left him sitting in long silences of contemplation. Palesa, meanwhile, seemed only relieved that Motsumi's visions, his anger and his pain, were finally at an end.

As the days went by and their any hope of escape slipped further and further away, Jule's servants - and even a few burly guards -- still made a point of coming to Ettoras to toy with him. Ettoras found his humiliation tripling to have Kayya and Yeneneshe watching in astonishment as he was sucked, fucked, and forced to suck. The foxhounds seemed intent on putting on a show and laughed at the horror on Kayya's face when they spread Ettoras' backside and plunged their way between. They unchained Ettoras from the wall, and though his wrists remained shackled, they made him get on paws and knees and take it in the mouth and tail. He rocked between, impaled on two thick erections, as the other servants fondled themselves and squirted on him.

And the worst part of all? Ettoras was enjoying it. He grew hard as a rock each time they fondled him, sucked him, or made love to him against the wall. As he was sucking a guard's massive penis on his knees, his own penis kept slowly lifting, getting stiffer and harder, until it was erect and dripping. Kayya had covered her face long ago, but Yeneneshe hugged her knees and watched Ettoras licking and sucking with intense dark eyes. Her white cheeks were blushing right down to her cleavage, but she never looked away. Ettoras couldn't decide if Yeneneshe was jealous or aroused or both.

Ettoras supposed the only real consolation was the fact that the foxhounds never assaulted anyone but him. They seemed wholly uninterested in any of the females and barely even glanced their way. They continued to mock, ridicule, and ignore Prince Florian, who was often left hard and unsatisfied in his cell. And there was only one incident where a young servant expressed interest in "taming" Motsumi, but another servant warned him that Motsumi was likely to be skinned soon and they had strict orders to leave his pelt untarnished.

With each passing day, the reality of their situation settled over Ettoras like water in his lungs. They were going to die and there was nothing any of them could do. He was afraid. At night, in the darkness of his cell, he would weep silent tears.

One night, as everyone was sleeping, Ettoras noticed Yeneneshe was awake in the cell beside him. She was curled up on her side, using a pile of straw for a pillow, and her dark eyes were frowning and worried. Behind her, Kayya was dozing against the wall. The soft sound of breathing filled the dungeon as the others slept, and Ettoras could smell the various sexes in the place like hot musk on the cold, stale air.

"Yen?" Ettoras whispered, wishing he could get closer to her. He sat with his wrists chained to the wall above his head, and he was actually closer to Florian's cell than Yeneneshe's.

Yeneneshe's eyes turned slowly to Ettoras, but she otherwise didn't move and didn't say a word. She was beautiful lying there, her white mane falling along the rise of her hip, her cleavage pressed together nicely, her cheek on her arm.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in this mess," Ettoras said.

Yeneneshe dropped her eyes to the floor. "Go to sleep, Ettoras."

Ettoras swallowed hard. "I can't." He couldn't. During the month that she was hiding with Palesa and Motsumi, the Guides had sewn Yeneneshe a deerskin dress that was one size too small and clung tight to her curves. He could see her nipples poking through the fabric, and when she wasn't careful, he saw the pink lips of her sex between her thighs. He could say the same for Kayya. Their dresses had been sewn haphazardly and sloppily, fit very poorly, and it was driving him mad.

"I would punch your lights out for you if I could reach you," Yeneneshe suggested.

Ettoras smiled at her dispassionate teasing. "I'd do such things for you if I could reach you." He was amused when she blushed.

"What do you want?" Yeneneshe said and sat up, hugging her knees. Her white mane tumbled around her like a veil. "You made your choice. There is nothing more to say."

"Isn't there? I saw you watching as I . . ."

"As you enjoyed yourself," Yeneneshe said darkly.

Ettoras gave a short laugh. "Looked like you were enjoying yourself as well."

Yeneneshe scowled and her ears flattened. "I was not."

Ettoras only laughed again. "You're so cute when you're lying."

Yeneneshe hugged her knees and glared in the opposite direction. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know . . . where will you go? If we get out of here, I mean. You going with my sister to Wychowl? Because it sounds like your sister isn't even there."

Yeneneshe didn't look at Ettoras. "I am not so certain Mogethis is my anything anymore. I'd just go home, but Asres and Gallus are probably looking for me. They will have left the burrow behind . . . I . . . I don't know where I'll go," she whispered sadly to her feet.

Ettoras looked at Yeneneshe in sympathy, and it slowly dawned on him that in helping Zeinara and Kayya to reach him, Yeneneshe had given up everything that was important to her: there was no going back to her simple life with Asres and Gallus. That was over. She had given that up . . . for him.

"You could come with me," Ettoras tentatively offered. Yeneneshe's eyes snapped on him, and he couldn't read her expression. His offer seemed to have caught her off-guard, but something in her eyes hardened, and she seemed more annoyed than surprised.

"When I take back S'pru, you could stay there with me," Ettoras went on anyway. "You'd love my home. It's better than anything down . . . here . . ." the sentence died on his lips as Yeneneshe's brow slowly furrowed into an angry frown.

"Did it never occur to you," Yeneneshe said with a curl of her lip, "that perhaps some of us _like_our lives in the forest? That perhaps we _enjoy_living in our burrows?"

Ettoras shook his head in amazement. "Living like rats, you mean."

Yeneneshe scowled. "Our ways on Aonre are different from your ways, Ettoras. Not inferior." Her eyes burned into his like watery black flame, and Ettoras was stung by the hurt and outrage glaring out at him.

Ettoras slowly looked away and his ears pressed to his golden mane in shame. He knew she was right: he saw the foxes on Aonre as little more than savages hiding in holes . . . He saw Yeneneshe as a savage. That made him no different from someone like Jule McIntyre. In fact . . . it made him worse. At least Jule had the excuse of not even being a fox and therefore not understanding them. Ettoras was half-fox and his own parents were from this world, a world he viewed so readily as broken. What was his excuse? It suddenly occurred to Ettoras that in all the time he'd been judging the foxes on Aonre, he'd never once thought about actually _helping_them. He may not have been a god, but he realized for the first time that he was certainly acting like one.

"It is not your fault," Yeneneshe said after a while, and her voice was so soft with sympathy, Ettoras looked at her again. She was still hugging her knees, and her ankles were crossed to hide the split of the soft cheeks under her tail. Ettoras dragged his eyes to her face, pushing down thoughts of her soft backside as it slapped against him. By the gods, he wanted that softness slapping him again.

"The old ways were lost when your mother created the Other World," Yeneneshe said. "She kept those ways from you. She let you think Aonre was lost. It isn't your fault, the things you do not know."

"Teach me," Ettoras said, looking steadily at Yeneneshe.

Yeneneshe's ears pricked forward and she looked at Ettoras uncertainly.

"Teach me about your world," Ettoras repeated. "What was your tribe like?"

Yeneneshe slowly smiled, but Ettoras was concerned to see the sudden tears that glittered in her eyes. "My tribe?" she whispered hoarsely. "We were the Children of Yfel, the strongest and the wildest - even wilder than Ayni's great tribes. We ruled Poston's forests, and we were proud and free. I was heir to the Elderhood. Which meant I, and later my eldest child, would have led the tribe through the ages."

Ettoras smiled. "You were a princess."

"I am a princess," Yeneneshe corrected with a proud lift of her chin.

"I want to kiss you when you look like that," Ettoras whispered with soft eyes. "You look like you could conquer the world. . . . like you could conquer me."

Yeneneshe's white cheeks flushed faintly. "You will just have to want," she said, looking away.

Ettoras continued to smile at her. "Come closer," he whispered. "Into the light . . . I want to see you."

Yeneneshe was still hugging herself when she slowly looked at Ettoras. Her ears were flat. She was uncertain.

"I spent so long watching you through the water, listening to your song," Ettoras said, "and now you're here . . . and I can't even touch you." He dropped his cheek against his arm, and his shackles jingled softly. He saw her eyes trace quickly over his muscular body and watched her in amusement. She was clearly struggling with a decision. And then - just like that - his shackles fell free of his wrists. Ettoras looked at his paws and then looked at her. She had freed him.

"I thought they took your magic?" he said in confusion. "You know . . . with tranquilizers or something . . ."

"Those only last so long, Ettoras," Yeneneshe said with a weary shake of her head. "They kept putting the drug in our water, but I did not drink."

Ettoras blinked. "Ah." It occurred to him that he was now free to move as he pleased. Without hesitating, he moved close to the bars. Yeneneshe's lashes fluttered when he reached through and touched her face with his large fingers. She tilted her head to accept his touch, and he let his paw slide to the back of her neck, gently coaxing her to lean closer. She did, looking at him with warm eyes as he stroked his paw down her mane. He wanted to tear the bars away, wanted to hold her and touch her. He couldn't feel enough and his paws trembled in frustration to pull her near. She was trembling as well, warm and red with blushes as his paws touched her cheek, her neck, the narrow dip of her back. Then his lips were tasting hers . . . and they tasted so sweet.

"E-Ettoras," Yeneneshe stammered breathlessly and pulled away.

"What's the matter?" he whispered but didn't stop pushing his fingers through her mane, kissing her long neck. His fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress, and he was very tempted to tear it off, everything be damned. If they were going to die anyway . . .

"Ettoras!" Yeneneshe whispered frantically.

Ettoras finally stopped to look at her.

"Not here!" she cried. His paw had slipped up her skirt. Her small paws pushed his hungry fingers away, and she blushed to her hairline as her eyes darted around to see if anyone had seen.

Ettoras laughed softly. "I love you, Yeneneshe," he whispered, startling her, "and . . . I'd stay here on Aonre . . . if you asked."

"Oh, Ettoras," Yeneneshe moaned miserably. "Don't you understand? We aren't leaving here alive!" She pulled back to look at him in exasperation, but her eyes blinked in surprise to see the expression of longing on his face.

Ettoras was going to respond when they both froze to hear the sound of moaning and panting. It sounded oddly as if someone nearby . . . was having sex. But who? Ettoras glanced around and could clearly see the others sleeping in their cells.

"By the gods," Kayya complained and opened scowling eyes. "Aren't you two done fooling around yet, Ettoras!" she demanded.

Yeneneshe blushed angrily, and Ettoras had barely stammered out a retort when Palesa spoke next.

"No," Palesa said from the shadows of her cell. She came to the bars, and in the light of the torch, her face was hard . . . and angry. "That is not Ettoras and Yeneneshe."

"It's coming from the other side of the wall," Motsumi added.

"The other side of my wall, unfortunately," Prince Florian rasped.

Ettoras scowled. "Geez! Were all of you listening to us --!"

"Shut up, Ettoras!" Kayya cried and got to her feet. "Listen to the sounds! Where are they coming from?" Her ears pricked forward and she looked back and forth.

Prince Florian had also gotten to his feet and was staring at the back wall of his cell. After hesitating a moment, his eyes narrowed . . . and he slowly pushed a brick with one finger. The brick sank away in the wall like a button, and they watched in astonishment as the entire wall shifted aside like a door. Through the new doorway fell Wilmer, pants around his ankles, wrapped in the half-naked embrace of a lovely female dog Ettoras couldn't identify. He and the bitch fell in a heap to the floor with Wilmer lying on top of the female, his white mane in his face. He blew it aside and looked at everyone in astonishment. Palesa made an angry growl of a noise, and Wilmer went very still to see her clutching the bars of her cell and glaring daggers his way.

"Zeinara!" Motsumi practically shouted. "Thank Zuu'ma, you're alive!"

Ettoras tore his eyes from Wilmer's guilty face to see Zeinara was indeed alive. The princess of Varimore stepped through the new doorway with her golden mane a mess, baffled as she glanced from face to face. She seemed relieved to see them all in one piece, though Ettoras thought she was especially relieved to see Kayya. She connected eyes with Kayya and her lips pulled in a half-smile. Kayya pushed her mane behind her ear and shyly glanced down, but she glanced up again and smiled at Zeinara.

After Zeinara came a young black dog wearing - of all things - a golden thong and nothing else. When he saw the dungeon, he folded his paws and started mumbling in horror, saying words in a language Ettoras didn't recognize.

Prince Florian scrambled backward into the bars of his cell. "Bloody hell," he cried, his eyes wide. "Zeinara? Is that you?"

Zeinara slid her paws in her pockets and smiled. "What's the matter, Florian? I don't have cooties."

Florian snorted derisively. "So says you."

****

Zeinara wanted to blame Pili's bumbling for everything that was happening, but she knew deep down that it was her own fault. She ran away from Wychowl. She attacked The Second Light. She lost the Skkye Glass. Her actions had propelled everything into motion. And though Ettoras and Kayya had been leaving S'pru anyway, she couldn't deny they would never have wound up as sex slaves in Maldoene if not for her. She would give anything to fix her mistakes, even submit to a marriage to that dreadful bore Prince Sterling.

Zeinara's last argument with Etienne had been about Prince Sterling. The king came to her as she sat in her bedchamber, staring out the window and wondering what had happened to Robin. All of it was so bizarre, and she couldn't understand why Mogethis had done it or why Robin had gone so willingly. She knew it probably had everything to do with Yfel, the goddess Mogethis had never been able to shut up about, especially when drunk. She tried to make Etienne confirm it, but he sat in the window seat beside her and started talking about King Damon, Poston, Prince Sterling, and her duty as a princess of Varimore. After the catastrophe at the ball, Etienne thought announcing Zeinara's engagement would be a good way to distract everyone, make things feel normal again, give the public something to talk about besides Robin and Mogethis. But far from seeing it as clever political maneuvering, Zeinara had been outraged. Robin was missing and all Etienne could think about pacifying the nobility.

Zeinara remembered jumping out of her seat and shouting that she would drop dead before she ever married Prince Sterling, and as she was storming away up the hall, she remembered Etienne shouting angrily behind her, "Be careful what you wish for!"

Zeinara and Etienne had argued before, but the king had never made jokes about her life. She halted and looked over her shoulder at him in amazement, all her golden hair tumbling as she turned her head in sharp disbelief. She hated herself when a tear slipped down her cheek. She was going to shout a retort, but the drained look on her father's face halted the words in her mouth. In that moment, he looked so _tired._His golden mane was tousled and there were lines under his eyes that hadn't been there before the ball. He saw Zeinara's hurt and his face softened with a silent apology and something like shame. But it was too late. She calmly, coldly told him that she hated him, then she turned away with a whirl of her long golden mane and disappeared up the hall with clicking heels. She ran away that same night.

Present-day Zeinara looked at the others locked in their cells and hated herself for her actions. But she was also still very angry with Motsumi. They could have gotten away, they could have taken the artifacts to safety and perhaps returned to Varimore by now if not for Motsumi's selfishness. How carelessly he sent them into the flames! And the fact that everyone seemed to instantly forgive him only infuriated Zeinara even more.

"How could you _do_this?" Zeinara suddenly burst. She stood at the bars of her cell, her paws in her pockets, glaring across the way at Motsumi.

Motsumi was sitting against the wall and looked up at her, slowly and sadly.

"Here we go . . ." Florian muttered under his breath. He was sitting on the floor behind Zeinara and took out his flask for a drink.

Zeinara ignored the prince of Curith, her eyes fixed on Motsumi. "You played with our lives and for what? For him?" She jerked her head at Florian. "Tell me, Motsumi: was it worth it?" she asked sarcastically. "Was it worth our lives! Because now we're going to die! Because of your foolishness, we won't live to --"

"Zeinara!" Kayya gasped in feeble astonishment.

Zeinara glanced guiltily at Kayya, who was looking at her with something between fear and sadness. Everyone else just sat in the darkness, resigned to listen to her voice ping off the walls. Pili flipped her dagger, her eyes fixed grimly on the end of the corridor, waiting for the moment when someone would come. Wilmer hugged himself and avoided Palesa's eye. Palesa seemed too angry and too sad to care what anyone said to Motsumi. Ettoras looked as if he wanted to protest Zeinara's words but also knew the princess was right and instead sat in silence, watching Motsumi with something between pity and anger. Yeneneshe was the only one who nodded in silent agreement with Zeinara, her bitter black eyes fixed on Motsumi with cold disgust.

"Why shouldn't I say it?" Zeinara demanded angrily of Kayya. "It's the truth! I own my part in this, Kayya. I won't pretend as if I'm innocent. But Motsumi is just as responsible, if not more. I'm just some young bint; why wouldn't I make stupid mistakes? But he's supposed to be a wise priest of Zuu'ma or some rot! I --!" Zeinara fell silent when she heard boots coming up the hall.

Everyone went still and listened with pricked ears. Lots of boots. And the jingle of armor. Guards were coming, not servants. Pili got immediately to her feet, her eyes glaring. Palesa got to her feet as well, and Zeinara noticed Wilmer watching her sadly. A second later and Captain Howlett appeared, making his determined way up the corridor. Zeinara scowled: the bastard.

Captain Howlett might have been one of only three straight males in Canderly, the other two being the guards who came with him. He didn't even look at the others as he made his way up the dark corridor. He came right for Zeinara, smiling a nasty smile as the keys jingled on his belt: he had her at last. With him came two male guards, one a foxhound, the other a Jack Russell Terrier.

Zeinara recognized the Jack Russell immediately. Jack Russells were commonly seen in the social circles of foxhounds because they had been bred for the same thing: hunting foxes. Maldoene, the land of the foxhounds, was the place to go if you wanted someone to catch you a fine, fresh pelt with no marks, no fuss, but to hire a Jack Russell instead of a foxhound spoke of your poverty and low standing. The Jack Russell was often seen as "the poor fellow's hunter," with simple farmers hiring them to catch a fox that'd been stealing their chickens. Only the rich hired the "superior" foxhound, only the rich could afford them. Such foxhounds were professionals - at least in the days before Etienne banned the Hunt - and were often seen with an assistant in the form of a Jack Russell. As a result, many Jack Russells were seen as moochers, riding on the coattails of a foxhound's hunting success. So the Russells were not held in the highest regard by the nobility of the nine kingdoms. If anything, they were little more than servants.

Twenty years ago, before Etienne banned the Hunt, Captain Eugene Howlett had been known as The Headhunter, a professional foxhunter who prided himself on his natural skill and ability. The Jack Russell who came to the cells with him -- whose name was Elton Friday -- had been his assistant in those days, loyal and silent and ever at his side. Elton Friday was now Lieutenant Elton Friday, serving Howlett once again, this time at Canderly, a small white male with brown ears, brown blotches around his eyes, and a brown mane pulled back in an immaculate tail. Friday had always been a quiet fellow beside Howlett's boosting and flexing. He had a reputation for humility and gentility and a way of reigning in Howlett's fiery temper with a simple touch of his paw. It had been a rumor for years that the ex-hunt master and his assistant were actually lovers, but Zeinara knew better: Howlett and Friday were half-brothers.

When Zeinara was still a little child, Captain Howlett came to Wychowl with Friday, drunk as a skunk and ranting in protest against Etienne's ban on the Hunt. He - and all former professional foxhunters - had been banned from Etienne's court and Thalsin itself for the king's own safety. But somehow or other, Captain Howlett managed to bribe his way into the town; he was the sort of male who always had a friend or two up his sleeve. He marched up the red carpet and directly for Etienne's throne, shouting and cursing his name. But he never made it. Several armed mastiffs of the king's Honor Guard blocked his path and dragged him out, screaming threats and spitting at anyone who looked at him.

Even when she was a little child, Zeinara had never expected her father would have Howlett killed and wasn't surprised when he did not. Instead, Etienne had Howlett and Friday imprisoned in his dungeon for a week and sent one of his guards to issue a threat that neither of them should return to Thalsin.

Zeinara remembered how Mogethis scolded Etienne for not having Howlett killed, publicly, as an example. But the vixen commended him for "at least" having Howlett and his "little friend" beaten for their insolence. Zeinara remembered how her father smiled against the fist pressed in his cheek and told Mogethis - in much amusement - that he hadn't even had Howlett beaten. No, what he'd done was much worse than a beating. At least to a male of Howlett's social standing.

"What did you do?" Mogethis demanded skeptically and folded her arms.

Etienne smiled. "I threatened to reveal that Elton Friday is really Elton Howlett, Eugene's older brother and the true heir of his father's estate. That shut him right up." So saying, Etienne rose from his seat and passed a thus silenced Mogethis on his way out of the room.

Zeinara remembered thinking Mogethis was impressed by Etienne's maneuvering, even if she would never admit it.

It was true, of course. Elton Friday was the result of an affair between Howlett's father and a Jack Russell maid who worked in his house. In truth, Elton Friday owned everything his little brother had but was content enough to follow him about and pretend to be his servant . . . and out of love. Having grown up together in the manor of their ancestors, the two brothers were extremely close, kissing each other's cheeks, affectionately ruffling each other's manes, even hugging publicly on occasion. It would destroy them both if the truth ever got out. Howlett's family would lose their pristine reputation and Elton would be revealed as an impurely bred mutt, the lowest of the low. So they purposely let the rumor spread that they were, in fact, secret lovers. That Zeinara knew the truth must've been agonizing to Howlett, who likely feared every second that she would spout it before his soldiers.

Present-day Friday and the foxhound guard with him unlocked the cell and came for Zeinara with shackles and rope, but Pili leapt forward and fought like a demon. Zeinara was only too glad to help her, and with Wilmer's help, she and Pili managed to give the guards several nasty blows. Then Captain Howlett took out his shotgun . . . and blasted Wilmer in the chest.

Zeinara would never forget Palesa's screams or how her heart stopped to see Wilmer crumpling to the floor in a pool of his own blood. The captain then pointed his shotgun at Florian and Shakir, who were standing against the wall like frightened rabbits. Both raised their paws in surrender and neither made a move as the guards shackled Zeinara and Pili and led them out into the corridor in chains.

Pili seemed too stunned to do anything except allow herself to be arrested. Her lip was bleeding where Friday had punched her, her tousled mane was falling in one bitter eye, and she looked as if she would rip Howlett's throat out if given the chance. Captain Howlett seemed to relish the very thought and pushed his lips at Pili in a silent kiss.

As Motsumi roared vows of revenge and Palesa screamed in anger, Zeinara was horrified to see Howlett approach Kayya and Yeneneshe's cell next. Kayya passed her a frightened look, and Zeinara hated herself that she couldn't stop what was happening. Her heart started beating even harder as she watched one of the guards approach the females with chains. Zeinara could tell Yeneneshe wanted to fight, but she eyed Howlett's shotgun and quietly allowed the guards to shackle her wrists. The foxhound smoothed his paw up her skirt and over her soft backside, and as she cried out indignantly, Ettoras tensed and gave an angry shout.

"Wilmer!" Palesa sobbed.

Wilmer was still on the floor, still choking on his own blood. Zeinara thought if she could just get to him -! She struggled against her shackles, ignoring the guard who tried to restrain her, her heart thundering, a lump in her throat. Wilmer was dying slowly and painfully, but maybe she could stop it. Maybe Maret would answer if she called --

Captain Howlett placed the barrel of his shotgun under Zeinara's chin, and she went still, her nostrils flaring angrily as the barrel forced her chin to lift. The captain tisked. "Be still, your highness," he said in much amusement. "There will be plenty of time for squirming when I'm between those long legs of yours."

Zeinara glared at the captain. She heard Wilmer choke and hated herself when a tear filled her eye.

"Get that gun," Pili said through her fangs, "away from her face!"

Zeinara gasped when the captain immediately gave Pili the back of his paw. The little assassin staggered back with a shrill cry and blood slapped down her lip. Zeinara caught her arm, and she regained her footing. Pili's eyes slowly lifted again, and Zeinara was shocked to see sadness in them.

"Shut," sneered Howlett at Pili, "your stupid bitch mouth. And don't open it again until I'm ready to put my dick in it."

Pili swallowed hard and was silent, her eyes glaring at the floor.

"Shouldn't we bring that one, Captain?" Friday asked Howlett and jerked his head at Palesa, who stiffened angrily.

Palesa was at the bars of her cell, gripping them as tears coursed down her face. She looked furious enough to split Captain Howlett in halves with her gaze alone. Wilmer called Palesa's name, and he sounded so pitiful, a fresh tear gathered in her eye.

Captain Howlett laughed shortly. "That one? I saw her fighting Tabitha's savage. She's too dangerous. But these others . . . they're soft as little lambs. Don't worry." He jerked his head at Pili, who narrowed cold eyes on him. "We'll have fun enough taming Etienne's little lap bitch." He raised mocking brows at Pili. "D'you suck the king's dick for 'im? That how desert trash like you became his assassin?" He glanced at Zeinara. "Your daddy gave the desert bitch a little poke, didn't he? D'you hear the screams at night?"

"You are sadly misinformed, Captain Howlett," Zeinara said with a taunting smile. "Pili wasn't fucking my father, his slave was. But I imagine being misinformed is common in one so low."

Howlett's chest heaved the slightest bit, and Zeinara knew she'd touched a tender wound. Captain Howlett hated and envied the nobility. When Etienne banned the Hunt, Howlett lost his social standing as a great foxhunter. Now he was just a commoner. Zeinara knew the entire reason he slept with Tabitha was to feel important again. To be reminded that he was now - and always would be - considered common_by the duchess was the easiest way to get under his hide. He grabbed the rope around Zeinara's throat and yanked her close. Pili scowled angrily as he peered into Zeinara's eyes and whispered, "I'm gonna cram my cock so far up your pussy, you'll cough up _cum."

Zeinara met the captain's gaze and didn't flinch. She was surprised when he seemed pleased by the fact. He smiled, let her rope go, and looked away.

Kayya's big breasts were squeezed through her dress as the guards shackled her next. Though Yeneneshe remained cold and proud, Kayya cringed from the molestation, flattened her ears, and whimpered like a cub. The foxhound guard touched her lip and kissed her hungrily - but he had only kissed her a moment when he screamed and backed away. A line of blood fell from his mouth: Kayya had bitten him. In sudden rage, he gave her a backslap that sent her to the floor.

"Keep your fucking paws off her!" Zeinara screamed, and she instantly regretted it: Captain Howlett looked at her and slowly smiled.

"Oh?" said the captain, eying Zeinara in amusement. "So the princess of Varimore isn't just a fox lover. She's a fox fucker too?" He chuckled darkly.

Zeinara glared at the captain but said nothing.

Captain Howlett jerked his head at the angry guard who'd been bitten. "Bring that one. This should make things . . . interesting."