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Description
The first time he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him, I was surprised, and scared. He was the court mage, and I was a mapmaker with the scout corps. We had come back to report that there were Westher troops gathering at the border, and that we feared war was on our doorstep. I didn’t trust him. He was from Westher. But the king trusted him, so I had no way of swaying his mind.

Anyway, I had been dropping off my maps to the royal scribe to copy. I passed him in the hall and he grabbed me.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“T-to report to the king, sir.” I looked up at him. For a mage, he had a very intimidating figure.

“You dropped off the maps? I need to see them.”

“Yessir. They should be with the scribe. B-but I need the originals back.” I squeaked.

He hummed, looking me up and down, his grip still firm. Then he released me and headed on to the library. I hurried on my own way; in the opposite direction.

The second time, it startled me. I had tried to keep walking, my eyes on the floor, but I couldn’t help but notice he was talking in hushed tones with the royal spymaster. It wouldn’t be a problem, since all of the higher-ups conspired together in war time. The Westher troops had made the first move a couple weeks after the first sightings. My maps had turned out to be incredibly valuable in predicting the path the troops would take through the mountains that sheltered us from the west.

Anyway, I had been going to fetch the copied maps so that I could send them by hawk to the scouts on the front. I passed him and the Spymaster in the hall and he grabbed me.

“Where are you going?”

“To send these maps to the front.” I couldn’t look up at him. I felt my face flush as the Spymaster laughed. As my superiors, they were both intimidating.

“You’re taking your sweet time. Don’t you know we’re at war?” He said.

“Perhaps she needs a fire under her pants to get moving at a better pace.” the Spymaster scoffed. He had never been so forward with just me. Obviously these two were close friends or they wouldn’t speak so informally.

He hummed, looking me up and down, then shared a look with the Spymaster. He released me and turned back to his prior conversation. I hurried on my way.

More weeks passed. The war was going well for us, and my maps were a great help to the scouts. I was kept busy, but the next time I was at the castle I saw him again as I was going from the library to my quarters.. There was no one else in the hall, but he was dawdling outside the Spymaster’s door.

I tried. I tried to pass right by. I kept myself to myself. Then, a rough hand on my shoulder. He shoved me into the recess where the door was. My back hit the door. His hands did too, on either side of my shoulders. My face flushed. He was bent down, his face disturbingly close to mine.

“So you’re the one winning this war for us… I’d like to get to know you.” His breath was in my ear.

“A-all I do is make the maps, sir.” I kept my eyes on his chest. The long formal coat he wore was tight around the shoulders, forming to his muscles. I wondered briefly what he was doing to stay so fit.

“Drop the sir. I consider us friends by now. Call me by my name.”

“I-I… I don’t know your name.” My voice broke.

“That’s funny. You know, the magic I practice has a lot to do with names. They say that if you know the true name of something-- or someone, the soul’s name, then you can control it. That magic is called Voce. I know your name. Charlemagne Kinsent.” He purred, stepping closer. The mention of my name was so deliberate, and him saying it made shivers go down my spine. I was trapped. He pressed against me, one hand grasping the front of my shirt and pulling me up to his lips on mine.

The kiss took me completely by surprise. So I didn’t hear the door open behind me. A silk necktie suddenly fell over my eyes, and I could feel someone tying it behind my head. I jerked, trying to fight it. It smelled of tobacco and wine. He grabbed my wrists, forcing me backward into the room, and into the arms of someone else.

Oh, Sol. Was this really happening? I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move. The mage said something about the soul’s name, and then he said mine, then I just couldn’t fight. Witchcraft, it must be.

And who was the other man? It must be the Spymaster. The man I reported to. The man I trusted with my life, and apparently the man who was about to do Sol knows what to me.

I knew exactly what.

I was dragged inside the war room, then hefted up and slammed onto what I could only assume was the map table. One of them grabbed my bottom and pulled me to the edge of the table, forcing their hips between my legs, while the other grabbed my wrists and held me on my back in a painful position. My back arched in an attempt to correct the pain, whining.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can guess my name, we’ll let you go and never touch you again. Deal?”

I tried to speak. I really did. But it was as if the voice had been snatched from my throat. All I could do was squeak pitifully.

A low, dark chuckle reached my ears. “No? Alright then. You must be excited.”

I couldn’t see. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t do anything to stop what I knew was coming.

Then, the subtle shnk of a dagger. Oh, Sol. Were they going to cut me? I felt something poke into my stomach, Then heard cloth rip. They were cutting my clothes off.

“Or, alternative deal.” I heard his voice, the Spymaster. So the other man was him. “If you agree to sabotage the maps and lose us this war… We’ll be as gentle as a lullaby on your ear.”

“You may answer, Charlemagne Kinsent.” again I shuddered at my name in his voice.

To that, I could reply. It was wrong. Every part of me was saying no, no, no. But I didn’t want this to be painful. I wanted to live through this. I regained just enough control over my own body to nod vigorously. Fuck this. Fuck this war, fuck this situation. Maybe they would protect me from Westher.

A light draft over my chest told me they had gotten my shirt open. The Spymaster behind me yanked it up around my wrists and tied it there, binding me. The Mage pulled me up until I was sitting and kissed my neck, going from just behind my ear down my jaw and neck, until he got to where it met my shoulder and bit down, hard enough to draw blood. My mouth opened in a gasp and he pulled me into a real kiss. I tasted my own blood, metallic, as his tongue invaded my mouth. I grunted, trying to pull away or move at all, but I couldn’t. It was as if I was a doll in his arms.

Then, something stung immensely on my back. I gasped and whined. The Spymaster was cutting into me with the same dagger that had cut my shirt. The pain was intense, and I couldn’t help my hands grasping at the Mage’s collar. His mouth left mine and he put his hand behind my head, pulling it down to meet his shoulder.

“Just to let anyone else know who you belong to.” the Spymaster laughed and I shuddered as warm blood trickled down my back.

“Hush, pigeon. It’s alright.” The Mage whispered in my ear. “Pain fades.” his voice sounded heavier, like it had when he had said my name. Suddenly, the pain lessened greatly, but I was still shaking. He held me close, pulling me down from the table. I almost fell, my legs were too weak. He held me up with one arm around me, his other hand going to the button of my trousers. I suddenly found I could move, so I tried to squirm away. He held me resolutely.

I heard the creak of the map table and I was pushed back, between the legs of the Spymaster. His mouth was on my ear, gently nibbling. I shimmied away.

“You're a work of art. There were so many times I had to resist having my filthy way with you. All those times alone in my office. All those times you reported to me with a new map. And now I finally have you.” He whispered, tangling his fingers in my hair and wrenching my head to the side so he could get at my neck. “He's been waiting for this chance as well. There's nothing more attractive to both of us than you struggling in our arms.” He chuckled, his throat vibrating. He breathed deep through his nose. “Perfume? It's as if you want it.”

“Anything to say, pigeon? Any defense of your honor? Anything to sway us? It won't work.” The Mage trailed his hands up to my breasts and squeezed, my nipples pinched between his first and middle fingers. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the Spymaster’s shoulder.

The Spymaster put one arm around my waist, his other hand slipping into my trousers.

“Swear to me you'll sabotage the maps.” He growled into my ear.

“Speak, Charlemagne Kinsent.” The Mage took one of my nipples into his mouth and nibbled.

I found my voice. “Yes! I will! Please don't hurt me!”

“Oh, pigeon. We would never.” The Mage chuckled, taking back control. I stiffened, the breath snatched from my mouth. I tried to suck in air, gasping like a fish. He latched back on to my breast, rolling the other like dough in his hand.

The Spymaster’s fingers found my core, which was already a bit slick from their ministrations.

“My goodness, you do want it!” He laughed in my ear, making me shiver.

I tried to snap my thighs closed, but the Mage held them apart. “Embarrassed?” he said, moving back to my neck.

The Spymaster continued to rub my heat, focusing on that sensitive button. I could feel something coiling inside me, like a ballista or crossbow ready to fire. My breath returned to me and I gasped, with a little whine. A moment of silence. Had I done something wrong? Were they about to go back on the deal? No! They promised they'd be gentle if I swore to fudge the maps!

I heard a rustle of cloth. Then, the Mage practically tore my trousers from my legs.

Oh, Sol. Here it came. The Spymaster yanked me by my hair to one side, lifting one of my legs by hooking his arm under my knee.

I felt the tip. Then suddenly the Mage was fully sheathed within me. I tried to push him away, my core clenching, trying to drive his manhood back out. But he held power over me. His Voce magic held me firm.

He was still for a moment, allowing me to adjust. So this was him being gentle? I still hated it. I wanted to be in my own bed with none of…. This.

He pulled almost completely out, then quickly shoved back in. I whimpered, my eyes stinging with tears under the blindfold. He leaned down, kissing my ear and kneading my breast.

He groaned in pleasure at the feeling of my womanhood pulsing and convulsing around his cock. He began to move a little faster, but still trying not to hurt me.

If… if they really cared for me, why didn't they just court me? And why bring the war into it? Why make me mess up the maps of the front on purpose? The short answer was that they didn't care for me. They cared for what I could give them. They cared for what I could do for them. They also cared to watch me squirm and struggle. At least they honored their deal.

Still no leads on his name, either. It was too late now. But if the Spymaster wanted me as well, why would he just hold me still for the Mage? Unless… I couldn't handle them at the same time! Were they going to take turns using me??? I started to whimper, my breaths coming faster and faster until I was dizzy, and I beat on his chest, trying desperately to get him off me so that I could run or do anything to stop it.

It was then I realized that I could move. He wasn't using his Voce at the moment. He was playing with me. “Now now, don't make a fuss, pigeon. I'll have to get a little rougher with you if you won't stop.”

That got my attention. I shook my head, but I couldn't help from squirming in discomfort. The worst part of this was that it was starting to feel good. “P-please, don't--” he cut me off with a bruising kiss, beginning to thrust harder and faster. With every motion I was pressed harder into the Spymaster's chest, who was holding me in this humiliating position. I could feel him at half mast against my rump.

Faster and harder and faster the thrusts came and I soon felt that my body was rocking with him. That ballista in my nethers was very close to firing. I threw my head back and released a single, light moan, to which the Mage answered with another guttural growl, his thrusts becoming less rhythmic and more erratic.

Something occurred to me and made me panic. Was he going to cum inside? He couldn't! I couldn't have a child, especially not by HIM! I pushed at his hips, trying desperately to get him to pull out--

With one final hard thrust, he emptied his seed into me, the hot concoction splattering inside me and dripping down my leg. I fell limp, defeated. He caught me. I was trembling and sobbing.

But they weren't done with me yet. I could hear the war pieces and the candlestick being roughly swept off the table. “Now that we're both warmed up, I'm going to fuck you on top of your own map. Maybe you'll get it imprinted on your back. Quite the reminder.” The Spymaster laughed, picking me up and throwing me roughly onto the table.

I heard footsteps. One of them, it must have been the Mage, was now behind me, and he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me down onto my back, grabbing the shirt that was still tied about my wrists and pulling them up above my head, in a painful position that left me completely defenseless.

Then, in a flurry of speed, my legs were both over the Spymaster's shoulders. I gasped, knowing full well what was about to come, but unaware of when. My insides were still quite stretched and slick from the Mage, so he slipped in easily. He set a quick pace, pounding into me. The table creaked with every movement and he was moaning at the feeling of me.

I couldn't help myself. A moan slipped out of my own throat, a low, animalistic sound that meant they had won. I was theirs. All the physical marks and all of the mental and emotional war that had been fought just so I would mess up some maps had succeeded.

He grunted, affirming my noises. The blindfold was ripped from my face and squinting in the light, I turned my head away, ashamed.

“Look at me.” He commanded. I obeyed. “Say that you are our little concubine.” He panted as he rutted me.

“I…. I'm your little concubine…”

“Louder! Let the whole castle wake up and hear you!”

“I'm yours! Only yours! No other man shall plow my field for your seeds grow within me!” I didn't mean to say that. But I did. I shouted it to the heavens as the ballista finally went off, and I convulsed around him. Satisfied, he continued to pound into me, finally releasing his own seed into my womb.

“Lovely girl.” He huffed, slipping out of me. “You are to report to us whenever we send for you and we will have you when and where we want. You are ours and only ours, like you said. And if you are good, we will not use the Voce. And don't forget the deal. Our little pigeon will… edit the maps and help us lose to Westher. Is all that clear?”

I could only nod. I was a traitor. They would hang me if they found out. But something told me the Spymaster wouldn't let that happen. He wouldn't give up his toy.

The shirt was slit, and removed from my wrists. I was free, but too worn to run. It was too late anyway. They had me. The Spymaster scooped me up from the map table and carried me to his inner office, where his quarters lay. He set me upon the bed and sat on the edge, preparing his pipe. I curled away and slept.

Description
The first time he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him, I was surprised, and scared. He was the court mage, and I was a mapmaker with the scout corps. We had come back to report that there were Westher troops gathering at the border, and that we feared war was on our doorstep. I didn’t trust him. He was from Westher. But the king trusted him, so I had no way of swaying his mind.

Anyway, I had been dropping off my maps to the royal scribe to copy. I passed him in the hall and he grabbed me.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“T-to report to the king, sir.” I looked up at him. For a mage, he had a very intimidating figure.

“You dropped off the maps? I need to see them.”

“Yessir. They should be with the scribe. B-but I need the originals back.” I squeaked.

He hummed, looking me up and down, his grip still firm. Then he released me and headed on to the library. I hurried on my own way; in the opposite direction.

The second time, it startled me. I had tried to keep walking, my eyes on the floor, but I couldn’t help but notice he was talking in hushed tones with the royal spymaster. It wouldn’t be a problem, since all of the higher-ups conspired together in war time. The Westher troops had made the first move a couple weeks after the first sightings. My maps had turned out to be incredibly valuable in predicting the path the troops would take through the mountains that sheltered us from the west.

Anyway, I had been going to fetch the copied maps so that I could send them by hawk to the scouts on the front. I passed him and the Spymaster in the hall and he grabbed me.

“Where are you going?”

“To send these maps to the front.” I couldn’t look up at him. I felt my face flush as the Spymaster laughed. As my superiors, they were both intimidating.

“You’re taking your sweet time. Don’t you know we’re at war?” He said.

“Perhaps she needs a fire under her pants to get moving at a better pace.” the Spymaster scoffed. He had never been so forward with just me. Obviously these two were close friends or they wouldn’t speak so informally.

He hummed, looking me up and down, then shared a look with the Spymaster. He released me and turned back to his prior conversation. I hurried on my way.

More weeks passed. The war was going well for us, and my maps were a great help to the scouts. I was kept busy, but the next time I was at the castle I saw him again as I was going from the library to my quarters.. There was no one else in the hall, but he was dawdling outside the Spymaster’s door.

I tried. I tried to pass right by. I kept myself to myself. Then, a rough hand on my shoulder. He shoved me into the recess where the door was. My back hit the door. His hands did too, on either side of my shoulders. My face flushed. He was bent down, his face disturbingly close to mine.

“So you’re the one winning this war for us… I’d like to get to know you.” His breath was in my ear.

“A-all I do is make the maps, sir.” I kept my eyes on his chest. The long formal coat he wore was tight around the shoulders, forming to his muscles. I wondered briefly what he was doing to stay so fit.

“Drop the sir. I consider us friends by now. Call me by my name.”

“I-I… I don’t know your name.” My voice broke.

“That’s funny. You know, the magic I practice has a lot to do with names. They say that if you know the true name of something-- or someone, the soul’s name, then you can control it. That magic is called Voce. I know your name. Charlemagne Kinsent.” He purred, stepping closer. The mention of my name was so deliberate, and him saying it made shivers go down my spine. I was trapped. He pressed against me, one hand grasping the front of my shirt and pulling me up to his lips on mine.

The kiss took me completely by surprise. So I didn’t hear the door open behind me. A silk necktie suddenly fell over my eyes, and I could feel someone tying it behind my head. I jerked, trying to fight it. It smelled of tobacco and wine. He grabbed my wrists, forcing me backward into the room, and into the arms of someone else.

Oh, Sol. Was this really happening? I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move. The mage said something about the soul’s name, and then he said mine, then I just couldn’t fight. Witchcraft, it must be.

And who was the other man? It must be the Spymaster. The man I reported to. The man I trusted with my life, and apparently the man who was about to do Sol knows what to me.

I knew exactly what.

I was dragged inside the war room, then hefted up and slammed onto what I could only assume was the map table. One of them grabbed my bottom and pulled me to the edge of the table, forcing their hips between my legs, while the other grabbed my wrists and held me on my back in a painful position. My back arched in an attempt to correct the pain, whining.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can guess my name, we’ll let you go and never touch you again. Deal?”

I tried to speak. I really did. But it was as if the voice had been snatched from my throat. All I could do was squeak pitifully.

A low, dark chuckle reached my ears. “No? Alright then. You must be excited.”

I couldn’t see. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t do anything to stop what I knew was coming.

Then, the subtle shnk of a dagger. Oh, Sol. Were they going to cut me? I felt something poke into my stomach, Then heard cloth rip. They were cutting my clothes off.

“Or, alternative deal.” I heard his voice, the Spymaster. So the other man was him. “If you agree to sabotage the maps and lose us this war… We’ll be as gentle as a lullaby on your ear.”

“You may answer, Charlemagne Kinsent.” again I shuddered at my name in his voice.

To that, I could reply. It was wrong. Every part of me was saying no, no, no. But I didn’t want this to be painful. I wanted to live through this. I regained just enough control over my own body to nod vigorously. Fuck this. Fuck this war, fuck this situation. Maybe they would protect me from Westher.

A light draft over my chest told me they had gotten my shirt open. The Spymaster behind me yanked it up around my wrists and tied it there, binding me. The Mage pulled me up until I was sitting and kissed my neck, going from just behind my ear down my jaw and neck, until he got to where it met my shoulder and bit down, hard enough to draw blood. My mouth opened in a gasp and he pulled me into a real kiss. I tasted my own blood, metallic, as his tongue invaded my mouth. I grunted, trying to pull away or move at all, but I couldn’t. It was as if I was a doll in his arms.

Then, something stung immensely on my back. I gasped and whined. The Spymaster was cutting into me with the same dagger that had cut my shirt. The pain was intense, and I couldn’t help my hands grasping at the Mage’s collar. His mouth left mine and he put his hand behind my head, pulling it down to meet his shoulder.

“Just to let anyone else know who you belong to.” the Spymaster laughed and I shuddered as warm blood trickled down my back.

“Hush, pigeon. It’s alright.” The Mage whispered in my ear. “Pain fades.” his voice sounded heavier, like it had when he had said my name. Suddenly, the pain lessened greatly, but I was still shaking. He held me close, pulling me down from the table. I almost fell, my legs were too weak. He held me up with one arm around me, his other hand going to the button of my trousers. I suddenly found I could move, so I tried to squirm away. He held me resolutely.

I heard the creak of the map table and I was pushed back, between the legs of the Spymaster. His mouth was on my ear, gently nibbling. I shimmied away.

“You're a work of art. There were so many times I had to resist having my filthy way with you. All those times alone in my office. All those times you reported to me with a new map. And now I finally have you.” He whispered, tangling his fingers in my hair and wrenching my head to the side so he could get at my neck. “He's been waiting for this chance as well. There's nothing more attractive to both of us than you struggling in our arms.” He chuckled, his throat vibrating. He breathed deep through his nose. “Perfume? It's as if you want it.”

“Anything to say, pigeon? Any defense of your honor? Anything to sway us? It won't work.” The Mage trailed his hands up to my breasts and squeezed, my nipples pinched between his first and middle fingers. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the Spymaster’s shoulder.

The Spymaster put one arm around my waist, his other hand slipping into my trousers.

“Swear to me you'll sabotage the maps.” He growled into my ear.

“Speak, Charlemagne Kinsent.” The Mage took one of my nipples into his mouth and nibbled.

I found my voice. “Yes! I will! Please don't hurt me!”

“Oh, pigeon. We would never.” The Mage chuckled, taking back control. I stiffened, the breath snatched from my mouth. I tried to suck in air, gasping like a fish. He latched back on to my breast, rolling the other like dough in his hand.

The Spymaster’s fingers found my core, which was already a bit slick from their ministrations.

“My goodness, you do want it!” He laughed in my ear, making me shiver.

I tried to snap my thighs closed, but the Mage held them apart. “Embarrassed?” he said, moving back to my neck.

The Spymaster continued to rub my heat, focusing on that sensitive button. I could feel something coiling inside me, like a ballista or crossbow ready to fire. My breath returned to me and I gasped, with a little whine. A moment of silence. Had I done something wrong? Were they about to go back on the deal? No! They promised they'd be gentle if I swore to fudge the maps!

I heard a rustle of cloth. Then, the Mage practically tore my trousers from my legs.

Oh, Sol. Here it came. The Spymaster yanked me by my hair to one side, lifting one of my legs by hooking his arm under my knee.

I felt the tip. Then suddenly the Mage was fully sheathed within me. I tried to push him away, my core clenching, trying to drive his manhood back out. But he held power over me. His Voce magic held me firm.

He was still for a moment, allowing me to adjust. So this was him being gentle? I still hated it. I wanted to be in my own bed with none of…. This.

He pulled almost completely out, then quickly shoved back in. I whimpered, my eyes stinging with tears under the blindfold. He leaned down, kissing my ear and kneading my breast.

He groaned in pleasure at the feeling of my womanhood pulsing and convulsing around his cock. He began to move a little faster, but still trying not to hurt me.

If… if they really cared for me, why didn't they just court me? And why bring the war into it? Why make me mess up the maps of the front on purpose? The short answer was that they didn't care for me. They cared for what I could give them. They cared for what I could do for them. They also cared to watch me squirm and struggle. At least they honored their deal.

Still no leads on his name, either. It was too late now. But if the Spymaster wanted me as well, why would he just hold me still for the Mage? Unless… I couldn't handle them at the same time! Were they going to take turns using me??? I started to whimper, my breaths coming faster and faster until I was dizzy, and I beat on his chest, trying desperately to get him off me so that I could run or do anything to stop it.

It was then I realized that I could move. He wasn't using his Voce at the moment. He was playing with me. “Now now, don't make a fuss, pigeon. I'll have to get a little rougher with you if you won't stop.”

That got my attention. I shook my head, but I couldn't help from squirming in discomfort. The worst part of this was that it was starting to feel good. “P-please, don't--” he cut me off with a bruising kiss, beginning to thrust harder and faster. With every motion I was pressed harder into the Spymaster's chest, who was holding me in this humiliating position. I could feel him at half mast against my rump.

Faster and harder and faster the thrusts came and I soon felt that my body was rocking with him. That ballista in my nethers was very close to firing. I threw my head back and released a single, light moan, to which the Mage answered with another guttural growl, his thrusts becoming less rhythmic and more erratic.

Something occurred to me and made me panic. Was he going to cum inside? He couldn't! I couldn't have a child, especially not by HIM! I pushed at his hips, trying desperately to get him to pull out--

With one final hard thrust, he emptied his seed into me, the hot concoction splattering inside me and dripping down my leg. I fell limp, defeated. He caught me. I was trembling and sobbing.

But they weren't done with me yet. I could hear the war pieces and the candlestick being roughly swept off the table. “Now that we're both warmed up, I'm going to fuck you on top of your own map. Maybe you'll get it imprinted on your back. Quite the reminder.” The Spymaster laughed, picking me up and throwing me roughly onto the table.

I heard footsteps. One of them, it must have been the Mage, was now behind me, and he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me down onto my back, grabbing the shirt that was still tied about my wrists and pulling them up above my head, in a painful position that left me completely defenseless.

Then, in a flurry of speed, my legs were both over the Spymaster's shoulders. I gasped, knowing full well what was about to come, but unaware of when. My insides were still quite stretched and slick from the Mage, so he slipped in easily. He set a quick pace, pounding into me. The table creaked with every movement and he was moaning at the feeling of me.

I couldn't help myself. A moan slipped out of my own throat, a low, animalistic sound that meant they had won. I was theirs. All the physical marks and all of the mental and emotional war that had been fought just so I would mess up some maps had succeeded.

He grunted, affirming my noises. The blindfold was ripped from my face and squinting in the light, I turned my head away, ashamed.

“Look at me.” He commanded. I obeyed. “Say that you are our little concubine.” He panted as he rutted me.

“I…. I'm your little concubine…”

“Louder! Let the whole castle wake up and hear you!”

“I'm yours! Only yours! No other man shall plow my field for your seeds grow within me!” I didn't mean to say that. But I did. I shouted it to the heavens as the ballista finally went off, and I convulsed around him. Satisfied, he continued to pound into me, finally releasing his own seed into my womb.

“Lovely girl.” He huffed, slipping out of me. “You are to report to us whenever we send for you and we will have you when and where we want. You are ours and only ours, like you said. And if you are good, we will not use the Voce. And don't forget the deal. Our little pigeon will… edit the maps and help us lose to Westher. Is all that clear?”

I could only nod. I was a traitor. They would hang me if they found out. But something told me the Spymaster wouldn't let that happen. He wouldn't give up his toy.

The shirt was slit, and removed from my wrists. I was free, but too worn to run. It was too late anyway. They had me. The Spymaster scooped me up from the map table and carried me to his inner office, where his quarters lay. He set me upon the bed and sat on the edge, preparing his pipe. I curled away and slept.