Chapter 12: Debriefing

Scene 54

The sun was starting to rise as they finally left the library. Zofia held her cloak closed with one hand, hiding her collar, her leash. Her nudity. Damascus flagged down a passing carriage and held the door open for her. A woman was already seated inside, but she had her nose in a book, her hat’s wide brim hiding her face.

Until the carriage was a few streets and most of the hill away from the library. Then Lizabet raised her head, looking up at them. “Well, you weren’t being chased by guards, so it can’t have gone too badly. Talk to me.”

“We’re in,” Damascus — no, Valerie said. “They buy the cover. A lot of buying, actually.” She jingled the coin purses now lining her jacket, then put an arm around Zofia. Her and Lizabet’s eyes asked the question without the need for words.

How did she feel? She’d been treated like a sex slave all night, her body stared at, groped, used, and for the sake of coin. Part of her still said she should have been ashamed, should have hidden away from the very thought of being so literally a harlot.

But she smiled across at Lizabet. What was so bad about being a harlot in the first place? “I can take it.”

Lizabet smiled back. “Still, that’d be a good haul. If that was our whole plan.”

Valerie grinned. “I know our target. The party happens in an old, converted dungeon, and the Queen’s taken over the old warden’s office. If there’s anything we can use — any evidence, any leverage, whatever — it’ll be in there. And I know our way in.”

“Hold on.” Zofia held up her free hand. “There’s something you should know.” They were far enough from the library now that no paranoia could keep her from speaking. “The Queen is my aunt.”

The pair’s expectant looks shifted; first to confusion, like they were sure they’d heard her wrong, then into shock. Valerie shook her head. “No. No way. It’s just a transfiguration. Princess Monique’s hair is much longer than that.” She looked to Lizabet. “Isn’t it? Longer than this.” She held her hand at neck-length.

Zofia shook her head. “She wears extensions when she’s in public. They’re made from her own cut hair, so almost nobody knows, but she’s kept her hair short for years. Besides.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “Her eyes, her voice, the way she moves. Trust me. It’s her.”

It wasn’t that they’d thought she was wrong. They just hadn’t wanted to believe it. Their denial relented, and Val slumped, sighing. “There goes that plan.”

“What plan?” Zofia asked.

“An idea I’d had for how to get into that office.” Val shook her head. “Forget it. We’ll come up with something else.”

Zofia met her eyes. “What plan?”

She sighed. “The only time her eyes were completely off the office was when they were on you. She’s infatuated with you, Zofia.”

Zofia’s heart leapt into her throat. “You’re ... you’re sure it’s not just novelty? Because I was new?”

“Fuck,” Lizabet murmured. “Everything points to it. The Owls trying to capture you in the first place, the bounty on you. A ‘fake Zofia’ getting us that invitation...”

Zofia clasped her hands over her knee to keep them from shaking. The Queen of the Owls. Princess Monique. Her aunt was infatuated with her specifically. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but whatever it was, it was a feeling that had her heart racing and her hands trying to shake.

Valerie continued. “So I had been thinking, if you distracted her, it’d be a golden opportunity.” But...” She didn’t even need to say it. “We’ll think of something else.”

Lizabet nodded, still grimacing — and still giving Zofia a concerned look — just at the thought. “Tell me everything.”

While the rogues talked, Zofia just ... processed. She didn’t even hear what the others were saying, her mind wrapped up in thinking about her aunt. Her hand wandered to touch the sign of her status, to draw strength from it and try to steady herself.

As her heart calmed, she realised that she wasn’t touching her tiara. That was still safe at the bordello. No, this time she’d drawn strength from her collar.

She’d done so much tonight, so many things that she could never have imagined before. Her skin was still sticky in places despite her best efforts. But however unimaginable the feat, she’d had her master beside her, and she had done it. She found herself sitting straighter, prouder. Her eyes fell on Lizabet, and a few words popped back into her mind.

How could she do any less?

She touched Val’s arm, interrupting her report. “If I did this. You’re sure you’d be able to get what we need?”

Valerie blinked. It took a moment for her to wind her mind back and realise what Zofia was still thinking about. When she did, her eyes went wide. For a second, it looked like she was about to protest, but she saw the look in Zofia’s eyes. “If you distracted her, Zee, I could empty out that whole office.”

Zofia nodded, but it took another few seconds to gather the will to say it aloud. “I’ll do it.”

Lizabet took her hand. “Zee, are you sure about this? The kind of ‘distraction’ you’d be, we’re talking about ... we’re talking about incest here.”

Zofia shivered with reflexive aversion, but she squeezed Lizabet’s hand in turn. “I know. But she’s the one... ‘infatuated’ with me.” The one who wanted to enslave her own niece, or even just a woman who looked like her. “It’s her sin, not mine. I can take that, if it’s to help free my people.” She nodded, growing more confident by the word.

Lizabet stared at her for a long moment. Zofia couldn’t read the look on her face. Did she disapprove?

Eventually, Val cleared her throat. “Then it sounds like plan A is back on. Now before I put my foot in my mouth again, do you have any other revelations for us?”

Zofia smiled shyly. “A few.” She really had been lost in her head for too long. “I recognised the Owls — magistrates, merchants, captains. More importantly, Magistrate Exeter wasn’t there.”

“So maybe he’s not an Owl,” Lizabet said. “But ... he still burned the letter. He’s not exactly jumping to help.” She took a breath. “All right. From the top; I need to know everything.”

They spent the rest of the ride telling her every detail and answering her questions about the Owls’ Darlinalia: who was there, what happened, the room and library’s layout ... everything.

Scene 55 (F/F)

When they arrived at Lady Margaret’s, Val went to assist the doctor with the still-unconscious Somerville. After having spent such a long, intensive night together, Zofia felt strange going up to her suite without her.

Yet, she wasn’t alone for long. Before she could even change, there was a knock at the door. One hand holding her cloak closed, she opened the door and smiled at her guest. “Lizabet.” She stepped aside, inviting her in.

Lizabet’s demeanour was so different. There was a flush on her cheeks — it still seemed so strange that anything could make her blush — and her hands fidgeted together as she closed the door behind her. “I should really get back to work. Plans to make, letters to send. But I just had to say.” She locked eyes with Zofia. “I really admire what you’re doing. How far you’re willing to go.”

“I couldn’t do it without you.” Zofia closed the door behind her. “Without your example.”

Lizabet’s lips pursed. “You’re on about that again?” She shook her head. “I really didn’t do anything special. I just survived in whatever way I could.”

“No. It’s more than that.” Zofia touched her shoulder, struggling to find the right words. “You survived in circumstances and with methods that the bravest knights couldn’t dream of. If not for you, I never even would have considered the plan that’s already taken us this far.” Her grip tightened, her eyes locked with Lizabet’s. The right words came to her. “You inspire me, Lizabet.”

After she finished, Lizabet was left staring at her, eyes wide. Again, that look from before, in the carriage. What did it—

Lizabet kissed her. Suddenly, firmly, like she couldn’t possibly have done anything else.

Oh. Oh. Her lips were so full, so soft. So sweet — had that gloss always been strawberry-flavoured? And she was so lushly, intoxicatingly feminine, from the high tone of the moan against Zofia’s lips down to the curves of the body pressing into her.

After only a brief, impulsive moment, Lizabet drew away. She was gasping breathlessly, and for a moment, the two just stood and stared into each other’s eyes, taking in the moment.

Then Zofia swooped in for another kiss. On instinct, her arms wrapped around Lizabet’s soft waist to pull her in closer. So soft, so lovely, yes. And oh, it felt so good to hear her moaning, to feel it buzzing against her lips, and to know it was for her. Lizabet escalated the next step, her tongue pressing into Zofia’s mouth, wanting more. The sudden sensation made Zofia tense, nails digging into Lizabet’s back and pulling a new gasp from her.

It was a struggle for Zofia to reassert control over herself, but little by little, she lifted her mouth away from Lizabet’s. “I was going to take a bath,” she whispered — relishing that she was so close to the beauty that she only needed to whisper. “Join me?”

Lizabet’s smile was utterly ravishing, her yellow eyes seeming to gleam. “My dear Zofia. Is that just an excuse to get me naked?”

“Yes.”

Lizabet actually choked at that, then laughed. It felt good to make her laugh. “You’re so earnest. I love it.” She led the way, walking backwards into the bathroom — she knew the suite’s layout like the back of her hand.

Then the door closed and they were alone together in the tile-floored bathroom. The large tub was already full, and glowing crystals set into the base kept the water hot enough for the steam to warm the entire room.

Zofia froze. What next? She was still so inexperienced. She’d done a lot during Darlinalia, but the circumstances were so different. She’d had her master there to guide her, and the Owls hadn’t been subtle about what they’d wanted from her. Not to mention, almost all of them had been men — Magdalen and Felisity had been the only women to play with her, and they played with her, commanding her hands to stay at her sides. Now that she had Lizabet, she didn’t know what was expected of her. She didn’t even know in full what she wanted to do.

But Lizabet saw her uncertainty and smiled at her. She took Zofia’s hands and laid them atop her shoulders, atop the straps of her dress. She spoke two simple, soft, wonderful words: “Undress me.”

Oh yes. Zofia pulled and drank in every detail of what she revealed. Lizabet’s delicate clavicles, the span of her upper chest before it turned into the sweet slopes of her breasts. They shook softly as she peeled the tight fabric past them, but with just a ripple, settled into perfection: a teardrop curve that sat with more weight below the nipple than above, beckoning the eye to the warm pink of her peaks.

As much as Zofia would have loved to just stop and stare, Lizabet had asked her to undress her. She kept pulling, the fabric sliding readily along the inward dip of Lizabet’s ribcage. There was enough narrowing in her waist to create a flowing, feminine silhouette, but it was padded, and that padding continued along her abdomen. Not nearly as heavy as her breasts, but enough to soften her figure.

The dress got caught at her hips, so rounded and womanly, but Zofia gave it an extra tug. It fell at last to the floor, revealing all the rest of her — the smooth cleft between her thighs, her smooth, perfect legs.

Lizabet was naked in front of her. Lizabet was naked for her, so this time, she didn’t avert her eyes. She drank in the raw, incredible beauty before her.

So beautiful that it made Zofia tremble just to have Lizabet’s hands run up her arms, across her shoulders, and take hold of her cloak’s clasp. “May I?”

After the night she’d had, it felt strange to be asked. But it was a good kind of strange. She nodded.

A second later, the clasp came undone and the cloak slipped to the floor, leaving Zofia wearing only her collar. She should have been used to it, but there was something in the way Lizabet’s eyes lit up. She wasn’t looking at a slave. She was looking at her, the real Zofia, and loving every detail.

Then she lifted her gaze, smiling sweetly, and stepped back. “But don’t let me interrupt your bath, Zee.”

Zofia whined. The bath was the last thing on her mind after that.

Lizabet led the way, walking backwards, each step perfect grace: swaying her hips, shaking her chest. It was hypnotic. She ascended the steps up to the tub without even looking at them, then slipped into the water. She sighed with delight at feeling the hot, bubbling water around her, especially as she sank down and let it envelop her until her breasts floated just below the water’s edge.

Zofia changed her mind. She wanted to be in that bath. She wanted to be that bath. She moved like she was in a trance, like a moth drifting towards flame. The water soon embraced her, heat soothing her well-used body, but it still wasn’t the hottest thing in reach. “May I...” It felt so presumptuous. That collar around her neck reminded her of her proper place; even with the night’s deception done, that felt right. But still, she wanted it enough to press forward. “May I touch you?”

Lizabet’s smile drew wider. “I don’t just permit it. I encourage it.” She dipped her hands into the water and brought them out sudsy. “Maybe we can help each other get clean?”

It was transparently an excuse, but Lizabet kept with it. Her fingertips scrubbed across Zofia’s skin, starting at her clavicles. It felt so good, the princess just had to groan — the skin-singing delight of sweat and residue being rinsed away, the softening touch of Lizabet’s delicate fingertips.

Zofia tried to replicate the same patient tease, but now that she’d let her desires have an inch, they took a mile. Her hands slid almost immediately to Lizabet’s breasts.

They were so big, far overflowing Zofia’s grasp, far bigger than when she’d touched Val’s. And where Val’s had been high and firm, Lizabet’s were so soft, and they were so slippery under Zofia’s soapy fingers.

Lizabet gasped with sensation, her body jolting into the touch. “My, my, you’re enthusiastic.”

Zofia blushed, her transformed skin turning even pinker. Had she gone too far? “I’m sorr—”

Lizabet interrupted her with a kiss, hands laid over Zofia’s wrists to keep her from pulling away. “I want you enthusiastic.”

With that encouragement, she moved forward again, squeezing. So soft.

And Lizabet resumed tending to her. Zofia had never been bathed like this. She’d never been touched like this. It wasn’t the selfish entitlement of the Owls who’d rented her; it wasn’t the confident dominance of her master. Lizabet touched her like the opportunity was a treasured gift, every inch of Zofia’s body an individual wonder.

Little by little, Zofia explored too, taking in as much as she could of Lizabet’s beauty. Her bountiful, womanly curves; the silken texture of her marigold hair; the smoothness of her thighs; the warm cleft between them...

Lizabet gasped at that last touch, her hips jolting forward with enough enthusiasm to send a splash through the water. “Zofia!”

She’d never touched another woman like that. She’d never even touched herself like that. But the pleasured tone in Lizabet’s voice was just too wonderful. She remembered, like it was burned into her skin, how her master had touched her. She drew closer, getting her wrist at the proper angle.

But she wanted one more thing first. “Zee,” she whispered. “Call me Zee.” That wasn’t the name of a princess or a slave. It was the name of a woman, a name that was just for the three of them.

And as she pushed her fingers forward into that tight, squeezing heat, it was the name that Lizabet called out in rising pleasure.

Zee wasn’t guided by instinct or by experience, but by Lizabet herself. Every moan, every twitch taught her more, and she was an eager student. She learned how to make those moans come louder, learned how to turn those twitches into shudders. Lizabet’s voice grew tight and desperate, her whole body tense.

Zee knew what that tension meant. She knew what would come after, if she could push past it. One hand moved faster, fingers plunging into her squeezing depths; the other pressed its thumb to her clitoris, pinning it back to add more. Still not enough, not until she bowed her head and bit her sweet, sensitive nipple.

Lizabet screamed with bliss, her whole body convulsing so hard it sent water sloshing out of the bath. And the look on her face. Zee had never seen such beauty.

She’d won tournaments, she’d been victorious in combat, but nothing had ever felt as glorious as sending Lizabet into that orgasm.

When Lizabet finished, she melted, as relaxed as she had been tense. “Zee, oh Zee, Zee Zee...” She put a tired arm around Zee’s neck and pulled her up, peppering her face with kisses. “Good, good, so good...” Her gasping gradually slowed, and she smiled. “And now it’s your turn.”

Zee shivered with anticipation. Her long, one-sided night had her feeling need beyond belief...

But a knock at the door interrupted that chain of thought. She tried to ignore it, but it was insistent.