Chương 4: Vol 1. The Knights Arrival

Tahir hated carts; he really did. The one carrying him bounced violently, rocking back and forth as it trundled along the weather-worn path. The constant rattling was beginning to grate on his highly sensitive ears. The horses pulling it, despite being purebred and buttered up to the point that it was a question of whether they still counted as working animals, had that awful stable aroma: a pungent mixture of hay and manure.

It was, by all definitions, nice: the pillow he sat on was soft and velvety, and the curtains that obscured the outside were quite cute, red with little yellow finials. Still, he hated it. Tahir tried to filter it out by focusing on his book.

It was an anthology of works by various prestigious writers: the heartfelt love sonnets of Aurel Vesh (always too sappy for Tahir's taste), the odes of Seraphine Orien (fun and whimsical, although very female-centric, so to speak), and, of course, the plays of Thalia Maren, the most celebrated dramatist in the realm's history. Although she was never Tahir's personal favourite, he definitely saw the appeal. The play he was currently reading was a bit of a romance that would eventually turn to tragedy.

It was about a young nobleman, pretty as could be, and, of course, women from across the realm would come to try to take his hand in marriage, but none were deemed worthy enough by the man's mother, who was very stringent and overprotective. Then he met a knight from a poorer household, one far too embarrassing for his house to have ever interacted with hers, after she saved him from almost being kidnapped.

The young man developed feelings for the girl, who is an absolute gentlewoman: caring, both physically and mentally, with rough facial features, her tufts of hair completely gone and replaced by scars from having fought bravely in battle. They started to see each other in secret. Day by day, the deceptions grew more intricate and elaborate, and all manner of comedy and hijinks ensued. Of course, if Tahir had to guess from the opening monologue, it would not be a happy ending for these two.

It made him smile a little and swish his tail. As much as he hated to admit it, he was a man who was a sucker for stories about damsels being saved by heroic women. He wouldn't mind that happening to him. Preferably sooner rather than later. In fact, maybe right now. Neri tapped him on the shoulder.

"Prince Tahir, are you doing all right?" He looked up at his servant and flicked his ears.

"Oh, just wonderfully." Neri would be accompanying him to the Coniton, alongside the servants pulling the wagon, who would double as protection.

"I know that tone of voice," Neri said, "tell me what's on your mind." Prince Tahir flattened his ears back, "I guess … I am just a little nervous, is all."

"Don't worry," Neri said soothingly.

"They are all good people; powerful people, but good." Tahir was about to retort when Neri's warm hand rubbed and lightly scratched his back with her claws. He bent forward, his body turning to jelly from the wave of endorphins; warm heat spread through him; his ears flicked rapidly, and his tail swished back and forth in sheer rapture. His father used to do this with him as a cub, and Neri did the same when he was on the cusp of pre-adulthood, when his father had told him he was too old, around ten or so.

And Neri still did it with him now, as a fully grown adult; it always made him go back to childhood… which he would never return to. A smidge teary-eyed, he asked Neri,"I … will you still be with me when I'm married?" Neri went silent for a moment, ruminating, then said, "I will try."

"Neri, why was I born a man?" The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Neri chuckled.

"It's just how the world works, kid. We don't get to choose a lot of things about our lives. We just must make the most of it."

"Yeah," Tahir said solemnly.

"It's like how Seraphine lamented on the loss of her youthful visage in that one ode, that went—""Oh, the bachelorette," Neri said, "withered and trampled by the harsh weather of time."

"You read her?" Tahir asked.

"Hey, I'm thirty-four, not two, kid." Tahir's head and body flung forward. Neri held onto him by the collar. He dropped his book on the floor. There was shouting, yelling, and caterwauling outside.

"What's going on?" Neri yelled. No answer. A shout rang out from outside. Then another. Then the sound of steel striking steel. Clang! Neri looked at Tahir with the largest, widest eyes he had ever seen.

"Tahir, stay here." She kissed his forehead.

"I will be back in a minute, I promise." Before Tahir could say anything, Neri jumped out of the cart, grabbing something long from beneath the seat. Clang! Clang Clang! More shouting. Screaming. Clangclangclang! Clingcling! Clangclangclang! More shouting. Tahir tapped his claws together. What was happening outside? He crept toward the door. Another scream. Another clang of steel. His hand trembled as he took a quick peek through the crack of the door. His blood ran cold. Blackness crept into his vision.

His stomach lurched. The world tilted. He nearly vomited onto the cart's floor. He saw a couple of bandits, each with blood-covered swords, and bodies strewn about. They were all his people. They had been killed. And Neri was kneeling in front of a very tall woman.

"Oh, what's this?" the tall woman said, eyeing the engravings on a sword.

"A noble household? How grand! That must mean the loot is going to be far better than what we would get robbing some lousy peasants."

"We have nothing worth taking," Neri said breathlessly.

"Please, let us go."

"Hmm," the tall woman said, one claw tapping her chin.

"How about no? Here's my counteroffer. I kill you, then we rob all your stuff."

"Fine," Neri said, "but please just don't hurt—" Tahir gasped and shoved himself back, away from the door. He had caught a flash of steel. Something dark and crimson painted the road. He forced himself away from the door as fast as he could and pinned himself against the window. He didn't want to know what just happened. Oh, by the gods, he didn't want to! The bandits were hooting and hollering. Footsteps. Tahir felt a trickle of fluid escape from his urethra. His heart was working overtime.

His ears were tucked all the way down into his skull, and his tail was wrapped between his legs and up into his crotch.

"Let me just take a peek at the loot we got," he heard a voice say. The door opened.

"Oh?" In front of him stood a bandit with a rough visage and gross, tartar-filled, jagged teeth in her maw. Her eyes swept over Tahir. Then she stepped into the cart and got to her knees.

"Why, aren't you a pretty boy?" Tahir tried to push himself away, to get up and run, but there was nowhere to go.

"Please," he begged while sobbing, "don't hurt me, please, I beg of you."

"Hurt you," she said, her head tilted. Tahir shivered as a hand settled on his thigh.

"Why would I hurt someone like you? You are the prettiest man I have ever come across." The hand started to slide beneath his skirt, and Tahir braced for the worst to come—"Miri, what are you doing?" The hand slipped away.

"Ah, Raska, come check this out!" Raska marched over and took one gander at Tahir, then smiled and flicked her ears.

"Well, looks like we got ourselves a prisoner. Tie him up." Raska handed Miri a rope.

"With pleasure," Miri said. She grabbed Tahir and forcibly tied the rope around all four of his limbs, sneaking touches of his intimate parts as she did so, then tied the rope to something solid. Tahir remained tied in the cart for days. The fur around his wrists had wilted like a flower in the winter, burning the delicate hide beneath it. His shoulders ached. The only sleep he got was in miserable little fragments. By the third day, he felt as if he had run out of water in his system to cry with.

Occasionally, Miri would bring him food and water, mostly stale bread, occasionally attempting to touch him lecherously, only to be called off by Raska at the last minute. This was absolutely torture. And it made him wish there really was a knight coming—"Excuse me, miss."