The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I am Tes-amen.” The dark-skinned man looked over the voyagers. They were easy to spot on the docks with the young duke’s height and blond hair. He stuck out like a flaming serpent in the sand. “Our porters will load your things on those elephants over there.” He gestured vaguely behind him. He turned his attention to the women. They were short. One of them was too pale to be of Surround blood. The other was armored like a war rhino. “Good day, ladies.”

“Those are elephants?” Vel looked over at the monstrous creatures as men fitted them with harnesses for the luggage. Despite the strange animals, the odd smells, and the swirling dust everywhere, the bustling port reminded Vel of home. Maybe all ports in the kingdom carried the same energy. “Are we to ride them?”

“No, Your Grace.” Tes-amen bowed humbly. “Elephants are not for riding. We have dragons for that.” A thin smile touched his lips.

“Dragons.” Vel’s eyes widened in alarm.

“He’s joking, Brother.” Naevia hoisted her quiver and looped it over her shoulder, followed by her bow. She lifted her stola and pinned it up at the knees to keep it out of the dust. “There are no more dragons.”

“Careful with those birds.” Dellia scolded a porter holding one of their pigeon cages. “The viscount sends a clown to fetch us?” She strode up to Tes-amen, her lorica squamata clinking and glittering in the morning light. “Do not vex the Duke of Ostia Novus.” She squinted into the man’s face, her hand on her sword hilt.

Tes-amen smiled serenely back at her.

“No, it’s okay.” Vel walked over and put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, careful to keep his fingers from the bare skin on her neck. He felt very much like he was restraining a guard dog. His mother was wise to send Dellia along. “I like this man’s humor. Come, Tes-amen, lead us to our accommodations.”

“Very well.” Tes-amen turned and a guard of about a dozen men dressed in crimson tunics flanked them as they walked uphill away from the port.

Kart Hadasht brimmed with energy. The lively, organic architecture, joined the snatches of stringed music and omnipresent hum of people. Vel tried his best to not let his mouth hang open as he looked around. They wended their way up cobbled streets that became wider the higher they went. Shops gave way to houses. And then the houses grew larger, with glimpses of fragrant gardens through their arched gates. “Is the guard really necessary? I spy no lone Vulpes ready to swoop down upon us.”

“The Vulpes are in the employ of the queens regent, so they are, of course, welcome in Kart Hadasht. As they would be in Ostia Novus, I’m sure.” Tes-amen looked up at his guest with that thin smile. “And I would not expect to see a lone Vulpes. Has Your Grace not heard? They travel always in pairs.”

Naevia’s interest picked up at this. Sweat dripped off her forehead and stained her stola, but she worked hard to keep up. Huffing and puffing, she said, “Speak more of this. We have little contact with that branch of the crown.”

“It is said that each pair deployed must be married to each other. A man and a woman.” Tes-amen leaned his head toward Naevia and Vel like he relished a bit of gossip. “It is said—”

“Let us not talk of the Vulpes.” Dellia cut in. “No good would come of that. Have you heard from the lost cities to the south?”

“No, the south is nothing but ash and fire.” Tes-amen shook his head sadly.

“I could stand to hear more of the Vulpes.” Vel watched a veiled woman as she looked down at them from a stone veranda. Above them loomed one of the crumbling towers, a ruined building at its feet. Vel swerved ever so slightly away from the tower, knowing that a stone could fall from its heights at any time.

“It is said that the queens regent thought to reorganize the Vulpes, personally.” Tes-amen was clearly happy to provide his font of knowledge. “Loyalty was a problem early on, when the order moved from procurement of supplies to procurement of information. In their inexhaustible wisdom, they found that a married man and woman would better maintain loyalty to each other and the crown.”

They turned a corner and the seven turrets of the city’s fortress came into view.

“Here we are at last.” Dellia turned and looked back toward the water. The city was laid out below them, a puzzle of curves and boxes jumbling down to the sea. “Where are our elephants?”

“They are too big to come the short way. They must go around.” Tes-amen led them forward, his stern crimson-clad guard still close at hand. “Come, the gate is just over here.”

“That … was … the short way?” Naevia huffed and puffed, the strap of her quiver chaffing between her breasts.

“Would you like me to carry you the rest of the way?” Vel smiled down at her. It was nice when he was better than her at something. Apparently, he climbed hills like a champion.

Naevia shot him a mock sour expression.

“Very well. On your own two feet. We will relax in luxury very soon.” Vel looked over to his cousin, who was now engaging Tes-amen on the care of elephants. Too bad, Vel was hoping to learn more about the Vulpes. Maybe later.

“Lovely to see you again, Lord Hostus.” Cassia smiled at the young man as he bowed.

“And you as well, duchess.” Hostus smiled pleasantly at his soon-to-be mother-in-law. “I trust all is well with the Tullius family.”

“Very well.” Cassia didn’t care for the lie, but it was better than the truth.

“Ah, my spring flower.” Hostus turned his gaze on Bantia. She stood by a window overlooking the harbor, every bit the beauty he had been promised. He took her soft hand and kissed it.

“Are you two ready for your garden walk? I will chaperone today.” Cassia, not for the first time, noted their difference in height. Hostus was tall for a man of the Surround, but Bantia was taller by about five inches. Cassia wondered at her family’s strange northern blood. How was it that all but one of her children had inherited the stature of those in the Savage North?

“You are going to chaperone? Can’t one of the servants do it?” Bantia had hoped for a little more privacy with her lover.

“After the wedding you won’t need a chaperone. Or even a mother, I shouldn’t imagine.” Cassia gave a wistful smile and opened the glass double doors out to the courtyard. “Let me have the pleasure of trailing you two. From a respectful distance, of course.”

“Of course.” Hostus bowed to Cassia gallantly and led Bantia out into the fresh air. He looked up at this graceful woman the fates had put in his path. She was perfect for him. He didn’t think Bantia’s height would be a problem at all. He very much looked forward to exploring every inch of her in the near future.

Cassia followed them around for the afternoon, musing on the innocence of youth.

The viscount was not as entertaining as Tes-amen, but he received the travelers and offered them all the resources of Kart Hadasht while the duke carried on his negotiations. After refreshments, the guests were shown to their rooms.

Vel lounged in the bright, airy room looking out at the city from an open window. A knock sounded on the intricately wrought silver door. “Come.”

The door opened and in stepped Naevia wearing a fresh linen stola that looked like it played on the edge of transparent. “What do you think, Vel?” She closed the door behind her and scurried over to close the window. “Is this not a pleasant place?”

“It is very pleasant.” Vel watched her walk, her shape more readily apparent in her new clothes. “Seems a bit much, actually. Elephants, candied dates, gold plumbing. Did you know I have a bath in my chambers?” He waved his hand at the adjoining room where steam billowed out of the doorway.

“I did not know that, Your Grace. You must be a very important person.” She laughed and stopped in the middle of a floral carpet at the foot of the bed. “What are you doing in your dusty clothes?” She pulled gently at the bottom of his cloak and tsked at him.

“I see you’ve found something new to wear.”

“Most of my clothes were damaged by the storm. They smell even more of mold than usual.” She stuck out her hips to the left and the right in a pose for him. “I’m borrowing this stola. Do you like it?”

“It is pretty.” Vel was uncertain how to proceed. He was so used to their games on the ship, but this was a new place, and he found himself shy. “So … where is Dellia?”

“Our cousin is out touring the stable. They have camels here, apparently.” Naevia unclasped the bindings on her brother’s sandals and dropped them to the floor. “I’m not sure I see the attraction for Dellia. Camels are ugly, brooding creatures that would like nothing more than to spit in your face.” She laughed. “Come to think of it, you would get along splendidly with the camels. You have so much in common. But, alas, we need to get you into a bath first.”

A little while later, they sat on opposite benches in the hot, steaming water. Vel could just see his sister’s large boobs bobbing below the surface. He wondered if she could see his hardness, submerged as it was. The way she kept glancing down, he guessed that she could. “So, how do we go about finding Father?”

“Let’s worry about that after our bath.” Naevia slid lower, tilted her head back, and soaked her hair, turning it a darker shade of rust. She looked up at him, her eyes gazing through the steam. “You have me here. We have our privacy. Do our games no longer interest you, Vel?”

“No, no.” He shook his head quickly. “You are the most beautiful thing in this beguiling city. But I feel a bit … unsettled … pursuing our games under the viscount’s roof. Perhaps we should—”

“Stop babbling and kiss me, Vel.” She rose on her bench so that her delicate clavicle just breached the surface. Her pinks lips parted as she waited.

“Yes … yes, of course.” Vel reached his long arm under the water, caught her wrist, and pulled her onto his lap. His rigid penis pressed against the outside of her thigh. He leaned in, drinking in her beauty up until their lips met and his eyelids fluttered closed. Vel was swallowed by a host of sensations. The perfume of the bath surrounded him, the warm comfort of the steamy water soothed him, and the heat of his sister’s small body pressed into his lap and chest. Her fierce tongue played its games and soon he found their hands roving each other’s bodies.

A while later, Naevia bounced on Vel’s lap, rubbing herself on the underside of his cock like she had on their voyage. Little waves splashed out of the bath in time to the movement of her body. Sparks danced before her eyes as she brought herself closer to another orgasm. “I wonder … though,” she said as if carrying on some earlier conversation. “Would it … ugh … fit … ugh … do you think?” The steady power of his touch permeated her consciousness.

“What?” Vel blinked and looked down at Naevia. Her face was slack and she had a distant expression. He had been focusing solely on the way his cockhead hit the bottom of her heavy breasts at the nadir of each of her lurching thrusts. It was true perfection.

“In me … oh … I mean. Would it fit in me? Hypothetically.” She knew such thoughts were anathema to her future as a happily married daughter of the crown, but the idea burned in her brain. Could she tame her brother’s beast? The more she thought about it, the more it consumed her mind.

“I think it would hurt you, Naevia.” Vel wanted to stop her sliding for a moment. To shake some sense into her, but found he had no will to prevent her movements.

“I’m … ugh … not so sure.” Just talking about it was sending her to a new level of excitement. Her vagina spasmed, as if to agree with her.

Vel mustered the will to stop her. He put his hands on her hips and held her down so that her pussy rested on his balls. She rhythmically twitched as he held her tight. He reached a hand over and put it flat on his cockhead and then pressed his fingers into her tummy above the navel. “Do you see? Do you see how deep it would go in you? I do not think it would fit.”

“Ooohhhhhhhhhh.” At the feeling of how deep his cock would penetrate her, his fingers marking its furthest entrance, her orgasm overtook her. “Veeeeeelllllllllllll.” She leaned her head back and gasped at the thought of it inside her. She reached down and took his cock from him, even as her climax crested. She pumped his improbable thing, sending more waves splashing out of the bath. Her mind returned from its pleasure, but the fever of that idea had not left. If anything, her orgasm had increased the thought’s intensity. “I don’t care about my future husband, Vel. I haven’t even met him yet. I love you. I care for you.” She emphasized this last point by expertly working his head with her left hand, pulling the foreskin just the way she knew he liked.

“If I stretched you … or hurt you … your husband would find out. He would know on your wedding night. It would be terrible.” Vel couldn’t believe he was arguing so strongly against this. Every fiber of his being told him to let his sister have her way.

“Stop worrying about my nonexistent husband.” Naevia pushed herself up, letting her nipples brush their way up his chest. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Anyway, if we were to only experiment with the tip, no harm would come to me.”

“Oh, gods, Naevia.” He knew her pussy was hovering above his penis in the water. “Are you sure?”

She still held his cock with her left hand. Reaching down between them, she maneuvered it. “Never … oh … more sure … um … of anything … oh, my. It’s … huge.” With a taut plop, the head of his penis slipped inside her. She dared not move or breathe. She had let her muddled thinking steer her wrong. He would surely break her. But she was afraid to even pull off him. She just sat there, with her pussy stretched beyond what she’d considered possible.

“Oh, no.” Helpless, Vel didn’t know what to do. “Is it hurting you?”

“Yes … yes … wait …” She slowly removed her hands from the penis and placed them on his shoulders. She breathed slowly in and out. Vel’s signature warmth swirled through her body. “It’s … oh, my … it’s not hurting … ugh … anymore. It feels … it feels …” She wiggled her hips ever so slightly, careful not to shove more penis inside her. Bolts of pleasure hit her and she gasped.

“Are you okay?” Vel put his hands on the side of her ribs, ready to lift her off. “Naevia?” He could feel her trembling.

“Wait … wait … don’t pull me … dummy.” Naevia opened her eyes and looked up into his handsome face. “You’re … ugh … inside me, Vel. Can you believe it?” Her hips wiggled a little more aggressively.

“No.” Vel’s arms stayed tense, ready to lift her to safety. “And yes. I can … um … feel you squeezing me down there.”

“I am?” She noticed it. Her vaginal muscles flexed around him. The pain was completely gone now. She wiggled again and slid down an inch on his cock. “Oh, gods. You are already in my … belly.”

“It’s not that far in. But you should probably pull off now. I don’t want to …” Vel shuddered as his sister slid down another inch. Her vagina clenched rhythmically. He realized that it had matched the elevated percussion of his own pulse. He didn’t have time to muse on how that was possible, because she slid down another inch. He could hear her mewling now, and knew that he was grunting uncontrollably, like some sort of starving beast. His hands slid down her ribs, past her narrow waist, and out to the curve of her ass. He pressed her flesh with his fingers and found himself working her further onto his cock.

“Oh … Vel … oh … Vel … not so … fast … it’s … too much.” But as soon as she said it, Naevia realized it wasn’t too much. Her body gave a spasmodic hiccup and she found that he had completely embedded in her. “I’m going to … I’m going to …” With a scream Naevia climaxed on her brother’s cock for the first time. Soon, she bounced herself on it like one stricken by many of Cupid’s arrows. Water violently splashed about the bath, crashing into the tiled walls.

“Naevia … Naevia … I never …” Vel tried hard to hold back the coming tide.

“I never … too,” she sang as pleasure danced with her body.

“Am I your first?”

“You might as well … be … the way you stretch me.” Naevia’s hips kept their furious pace. “To … ugh … be honest, I laid with a man last summer … but it was nothing … like this.” With dilated pupils, she tried to watch him as she rose and fell, but it was difficult to focus. “Am I your first?”

“Yes.” Vel was almost happy she had that fling last summer. He liked her having some measure of comparison, now that he could see how much she enjoyed him.

“I … would have waited … if I’d known … it would be you …” She saw by the look in his eyes and sound of his groans that he was close. “Not in me.” With every ounce of fortitude that she could muster, Naevia pulled off her brother. She reached down and pumped his turgid thing with her hands. It felt even larger than normal. Soon he cried out and cum launched harmlessly into the bathwater. “There … there … yes … let it out.” She pressed her cheek against his chest and slowly caressed him with her hand until she could tell her touch was too much. She removed her hand and leaned her naked, heaving body against her brother. She drew in shuddering, steamy breaths. “That is a game … I would play … again.”

“Me … too.” Vel encircled her with his arms and held her tight.

“Have you not yet found your land-legs, cousin?” Dellia cocked her head at Naevia as the short woman waddled toward her out on one of the side lawns. “You’re walking like a crab.”

“Um … yeah.” Naevia forced a smile and nodded. “That trip across the Inland Sea threw me off kilter.”

“For shame, cousin.” Dellia lifted her bow, notched an arrow, and aimed at the target some seventy yards off. She closed an eye and squinted, very aware that despite her chest band, her right boob was still a little in the way. Sometimes she felt some jealousy of men. “You are a woman of Ostia Novus born and bred. A short jaunt in a ship should not make you walk so. Just wait until you take out to the Endless Sea. You’ll find waves the size of mountains there.” She released the arrow and it arched ever so slightly over the grass and hit the target, just left of center.

“We are not all made for adventure, Dellia.” Naevia stepped up to her cousin, took the bow from her, and notched an arrow. She wiggled her shoulder to bunch the sleeve of her borrowed stola. She didn’t want to loosen the thing the way she herself had been loosened that day. The thought of it sent a thrill through her. She felt herself the queen of the world for taking Vel’s cock, but only she and Vel could know of the feat. She aimed at the target.

“Have you heard from your father yet?” Dellia watched her handle the bow with interest. Something was different about Naevia, and it wasn’t just the voyage. But Dellia couldn’t place it.

“Shh.” Naevia gave a quick look around, but they were all alone. “Someone could hear.” She released the arrow and it sped to the target, hitting just to the right of her cousin’s arrow, dead center.

“There are no spies here, Naevia.” Dellia frowned at the target. “Only you, an improbably good marksman, and me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, cousin.” Naevia smiled modestly. “I think the wind helped me on that last shot.”

“There you are, Merope. How pleasant to see you on this fine day. And the bath looks resplendent. I can see my own reflection in the tile.” Brynhild could indeed see herself. Her body looked even more distorted and bloated in the reflection. She pulled her cloak around herself tighter. “But, sadly, my dishes have not been removed from last night. And more have piled up after this morning’s meal.”

“How did you find me?” Merope was frozen on her hands and knees, a rag in her hand. All her muscles tensed and the hairs stood on the back of her neck.

“Your husband sent me. Such a sweet man, Nicias. He offered that I punish him instead of you. But I have no punishment planned.” Brynhild stood over the woman, admiring the swell of her backside under her dark and ragged stola. It had been years and years since Brynhild had taken a woman. Her work had not required it. But, the sorceress reminded herself, life didn’t have to be all work. “Come with me.” She gestured to the door.

Merope stayed frozen on her hands and knees looking at the tall woman’s shadow as it fell in front of her. “I thought there was to be no punishment, mistress.”

“I have in mind the opposite of torture. Come now, off your knees. There will be plenty of that later.” Brynhild reached down with her left hand and brushed the woman’s dark hair to the side. Her pale fingers closed gently on the exposed, olive skin of Merope’s neck. She could see the scullery servant relax at her touch. Gently, she brought the woman to a standing position. “There now, doesn’t that feel better? If anyone asks us in the halls, you are coming to fetch my dishes.”

“Yes.” Merope nodded, but looked up at the platinum haired woman with wide eyes. That heat she’d tried to forget from the night before had returned at Brynhild’s touch. And with it came that hunger again. She was inexplicably wet between the legs. It was not unlike how she got when Nicias had the urge to take her. But more so. Confusion clouded her thoughts.

“Well, come then.” Brynhild chanced dropping her hand. She couldn’t very well lead the woman back to her chambers while holding her. That would certainly arouse the interest of any passing servant. But the small woman complied meekly enough and together they walked through the castle in silence. They ran into no one on their way.

When they were in Brynhild’s chamber, Brynhild conjured her ball of light and sat at the edge of her bed. She redirected Merope from the dishes on the table and beckoned her to stand by the bed. “There now. Clothes off, dear. I would like to see what I bought with our accidental touch.”

“I … I … cannot disrobe for you.” Merope stood with her hands by her sides, her mouth hanging open in surprise. She had been promised no punishment. Was she not there to fetch the dishes? “My body is the forbidden vine for my husband to drink as wine. I will forgo the passing bee that tries to pollinate me.”

“Oh, how quaint. Was that from your wedding?”

Merope nodded.

“Well, I cannot pollinate you, Merope. I have not the equipment. So, you are quite safe.” Brynhild loosened her cloak and let it fall back onto the sheets. She now wore only her ill-fitting, borrowed stola. “Now be a good young woman, and remove your dress.” She pushed these last words harder into Merope’s mind. The sorceress had wanted to avoid muddling the waters with other magic, so that she might see what the dust was capable of on its own. But, alas, she didn’t have all day.

“Okay.” Merope lifted the stola with both arms over her head. She wiggled her hips back and forth as she did this to get the thing off. She was not wearing a chest band and she could see the sorceress’s steel-blue eyes fall to her breasts. Merope covered her boobs with her arms on instinct. She stood in the middle of the chilly room with only her underwear on. She hoped that she hadn’t stained the linen with her strange excitement.

“Oh, you have lovely breasts. Certainly, paler than the rest of you. And your nipples are so dark. Don’t be bashful, let me see them again.” Brynhild saw that the woman had no intention of complying, so she leaned forward and caressed Merope’s thin arm. The scullery servant sucked in her breath with the touch, and her chest heaved. After a minute’s touch, Merope’s arms fell, exposing herself. “There now, they are lovely. Those hanging globes look quite big on you, but they would be small on me. Maybe about the size of my old breasts.” Brynhild saw Merope’s eyebrows raise in puzzlement. “Oh, yes. I am not the woman I used to be. That doesn’t concern you, though.” Brynhild pulled Merope’s arms downward until the woman fell to her knees before her. “Tell me what you make of my touch.” She let go of the woman and spread her legs, lifting the stola to her hips. She had not worn underwear for the occasion and could see the woman’s dark eyes fixed on her triangle of blond hair.

“It is warm, and sweet, and I … I …” Merope still did not grasp what was expected of her. The sorceress was right, she had not the equipment for pollination. What did she want with Merope? “I would like you to touch me again, please.” The words came out of Merope unbidden.

“Come closer so that I might touch you.” Brynhild leaned back on her right hand. Her left hand hung tantalizingly in the air. The ball of light glinted off Merope’s pretty eyes.

“Okay.” Merope scooted on her knees a little closer. That long, pale arm reached out to her, the hand wrapped around the back of her neck again, and she felt herself pulled between the woman’s legs. Her nostrils flared. The scent of another woman hit her for the first time. It was pungent and pleasant, she decided. A little more pulling and her face met the sorceress’s vagina. Merope pressed her lips together tightly, still confused.

“Open your mouth, Merope,” Brynhild cooed. She did not push any of her words. She did not think she needed to. “Taste me.”

Merope shook her head, but couldn’t move away with the hand holding her and the warmth spreading into her from her neck.

“Are you worried about sweet Nicias? I am not a bee, remember?” Brynhild watched what she could see of Merope’s face as her pupils dilated and the creases in her forehead smoothed. “You may do this and keep your marriage intact. Fear not.”

Tentatively, Merope parted her lips. Her tongue darted out and she touched the sorceress’s nether lips with the tip. She wasn’t sure that Brynhild was right. This seemed like something Nicias would find upsetting. But the hunger welled in her and she couldn’t make sense of her thoughts. She lapped at the vagina before her. It tasted better than she would have guessed. Tangy and salty and just a little sweet. Soon, her tongue delved between the vertical lips with each lick, seeking to drink as much of the sorceress as she could.

“Oh. Careful. I am not a feeding trough. Be a little more gentle.” With her grip on the woman’s neck, she guided her movements. “That’s better. Ahhhhhhh. Yes … that’s good. Now … try sucking on the lips. No, no, no. Gentle … no teeth … yes … there … and now … my button. Yes … ooooohhhhhhhh … you’re learning. Yeeeeeesssssssssss.” Brynhild pressed the woman’s mouth onto her clitoris and relinquished to her orgasm.

Stunned, Merope kept at her work. She could feel the woman’s strong thighs shake on either side of her head. She looked up to see the great swell of Brynhild’s bust tremble under her stola. Merope had never felt more in control of another person. And, at the same time, she had never been more under another’s power. She rubbed her own thighs together and a funny, fuzzy feeling built in her belly.

“Good … good …” Brynhild’s apogee passed and she pulled the woman into her lap. “Your enthusiasm is quite something.” She moved the soaked underwear off Merope. The naked woman was now trembling with excitement in her lap. Brynhild kissed her, enjoying her own taste on the servant’s lips. She could feel Merope melt into her, their breasts pressed together with the stola between them. Their tongues danced for some time, hands roaming all over their bodies.

Nicias had never shown Merope what the joys of physical pleasure could be. As she kissed another woman for the first time, Merope felt a kind of anger toward her husband. Why had he not treated her the way this woman did? Soon, she found herself turning around on top of Brynhild, and her face was now confronted with that waiting vagina again. She knew what to do, and nibbled at those lips. But then she screamed out as the sorceress’s tongue found her own secret places. She felt hands squeeze her butt, the warmth flowing through her left cheek. “Eeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.” Seized by her first orgasm, Merope knew that a door to a whole new world had opened to her. She spent hours on top of the sorceress, as they feasted on each other. The climaxes were like waves in a tempest, one crashing down on the next and on the next.

Eventually, Brynhild pushed Merope off her and ordered the woman to dress. She lay on her side, watching that ripe, womanly body disappear under her stola. “Would you like to visit again, Merope?”

Merope shook her head quickly, put on her sandals, and headed for the door.

“Well, think on it, dear.” Brynhild smiled at the servant even though the dark woman wouldn’t meet her eye. “Oh, and don’t forget the dishes.” She watched as the flustered Merope hurried to the table, gathered the dishes, and sped away as fast as she could. With a flick of her left index finger, Brynhild extinguished the light. Dusk had settled outside. The sorceress moved her head to her pillow and shut her eyes.

The screech of a monkey caused Naevia to spin in the seamstress’s shop. The small furry creature jumped into Naevia’s arms just as her measurements were completed. It tugged at her chest band, and then seemed to calm and nuzzled its face into her bare upper chest.

“Is this your monkey?” Naevia said to the seamstress. The animal seemed to purr into her skin.

“What? No!” The seamstress, alarmed, moved toward Naevia. “Shoo, shoo.” She waved a cloth at the monkey.

“Wait. It isn’t harming anyone.” Naevia folded her arms around it. “Leave it be.”

“Well, then it shall be welcome in my shop.”

A few minutes later, Vel spotted his sister reentering the busy street. He popped a date into his mouth and ambled over to her. “You know you have a monkey on your shoulder?”

“Yes. Isn’t he sweet?” Naevia reached up and patted its head. “I think I’ll call him Mercury.”

“You’re naming him?” Vel handed her a date, but the monkey took it before she could and shoved it in its toothy mouth. “It’s your baby now?”

“Our baby, Your Grace.” Naevia laughed. “He has your looks.”

“And your brains.” Vel handed her another date and it made it to his sister’s hand this time.

“I noticed. He’s a smart little thing.” Naevia’s laugh was drowned out by the grunting of camels, the shouting of vendors, and the squeak of old, wooden wheels. She put the date in her mouth and savored its sweetness. “I’m to come back tomorrow for new clothes.” The monkey jumped from her arms and scurried away, quickly lost in traffic. “Mercury? Come back.”

“He’ll be alright.” Vel took her hand. He was about to lead her up a side street when a cloaked figure in a hood stepped out in front of them. Vel dropped his sister’s hand and reached for his sword. They should have brought Dellia.

“Easy now.” The man’s face was hidden by a silver mask, cast half in shadow by his hood. There was a tear etched into the left cheek of the mask. When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse croak. “Come with me. I have what you seek.” The man turned and disappeared down a narrow alley.

Vel and Naevia looked at one another.

“What we seek. Did he mean Father? Was that Father himself?” Naevia’s eyebrow raised.

“He did seem familiar.” Vel drew his sword, careful not to accidently slice any passerby. “A sword seems reasonable. Just in case we’re wrong and it’s not him.”

“Good idea.” Naevia wished for her bow. Without it, she reached under her stola and drew a long dagger. “Shall we follow him, Vel?”

“On Mercury’s wings.” Vel led the way and they disappeared into the shadowed alley.