Hunted King: Whispers of Steam, #3

By Caylen McQueen

It's Princess Mayra's birthday, and she's reclaimed her family's secret weapons, but she can't bring herself to celebrate, Not while Rathen is captured. Jossian's crew hatches a plan with have Jacques infiltrate the mad king's castle--a dangerous job indeed. At the same time, Mayra finds herself spending more and more time with Jossian, a man who used to clash with her.

 

Hunted King concludes the steampunk story of Whispers of Steam.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caylen McQueen
• Release date: Jul 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393125358

Book preview

One

KING OWENTH'S FINGERS, slick with grease, were clasped over his bulging stomach. He preferred his chicken dripping with juices, and he didn't bother to wipe his fingers after the food was down his gullet. He sat on his onyx throne, feeling like a god, but looking like a prick to anyone with discernment. Between the hours of four and six o'clock, he went into his Great Hall, sat on his great chair, and listened to the trifling woes of commoners. They had to request an audience with the king, and some had to wait for weeks before he would listen. Gayle Yarrow was no exception. She was a busty, barefoot woman of four and forty years, and when she bowed to the king, her breasts were barely contained in her dress.

She looks whoreish, Owenth whispered his opinion to Nigel Polite, his chief adviser. Nigel was a dark-skinned, slender young man whose sole purpose was not to advise, but to agree with every word that fluttered from the king's flapping lips. When Nigel agreed, he had to agree with a smile. Anything less would be traitorous.

Indeed she does, sir, Nigel said.

Owenth complained, She looks dirty as well. A dirty whore. I wonder what she's asking for. Money, probably.

Money is a very common request, my lord, his adviser said. I have no doubt you are correct.

Gayle was shoved to the center of the room by two of Owenth's guards. They could have escorted her politely, but they knew their king would prefer a rougher show. Owenth sneered at her bare toes, crushed into his plush carpet.

And who are you? the king asked.

I'm Gayle Yarrow, sir.

"Not sir. Your Majesty, he corrected her. Did the guards not tell you the proper way to address me?"

Gayle muttered a panicked apology. They did, Your Majesty. I'm so sorry, Your Majesty.

It's quite alright, Owenth excused her. Now... if you're here, I assume there is something you'd like to ask of me?

Yes, Your Majesty. Gayle sucked in a deep breath before starting her speech. Two weeks ago, my husband was arrested for poaching. See, we didn't know it was illegal to shoot a deer if it happened to wander into our yard.

"It is illegal, Owenth said. All animals are my property. To legally hunt, one requires a license, and even then, there are restrictions. If you were unaware of this, that's too bad. Ignorance of the law does not make you immune to the law."

I-I know, Your Majesty, Gayle stuttered. "But, I... I was hoping I might beg for his early release? He was sentenced to a year behind bars, but his family needs him now. I've got four children with empty bellies who need their father."

Owenth studied his fingernails as they continued their discussion. "He was the breadwinner, I take it? Yes, of course he was. You women are lazy. You stay at home with the children to avoid hard labor."

Gayle's red eyelashes fluttered at his remark. But... sir... I got a baby! I can't leave him sittin' at home while I go off to work! That's illegal too, innit?

"You have a baby? At your age? My lady, your husband should have stopped squirting his seed a long time ago. He's the one who's caused this. When Owenth's gaze wandered to Nigel, his sock puppet adviser gave him a firm nod. Leave the baby with a friend and get to work. I'm not going to pardon your husband so you can keep churning out children that you clearly cannot feed. That'd be preposterous!" He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and the guards escorted her from the Great Hall.

I couldn't have said it better myself, Your Majesty, Nigel said. You made the right choice.

Of course I did! I always do. Grinning at his adviser, he added, Mark my words, she'll turn to whoring. I know her kind. She's halfway there already. She'll probably have another baby by the time her husband is released.

The king's next petitioner was an elderly farmer named Robert Kipington. When prompted, Robert explained, I had a poor crop this year due to the lack of rain. My wife is ill. I need money for her medicine, but I didn't make enough money to buy it for her. I'm wondering if you'd be so kind as to—

Owenth interrupted, To give you money? No. I won't. Assuming your wife is as old as you, she'll probably be dead soon either way. Death is a fact of life, and hers is coming whether you like it or not. You need to accept that.

But Your Majesty, I—

"Noooo, the king interrupted him again. You've been given your answer. Kindly remove yourself from the castle."

Owenth glanced at Nigel again, if only to have his confidence bolstered by his adviser's approving nods. The king clapped his hands, capturing his guards' attention before they went to fetch another commoner. Send in Trimble next, Owenth requested. "I want to deal with that mess now, not later. And bring Gorley as well. I need to speak to both of them."

The guards mumbled in unison, Yes, Your Majesty, and excused themselves with simultaneous bows.

I can't wait to deal with Trimble, Owenth told Nigel. I've already heard what happened during his hunt for Princess Mayra. It was a travesty, and someone needs to answer for it.

Agreed, Your Majesty, Nigel said. I see no reason for you to be lenient with either of them.

Owenth's teeth were tearing into another greasy thigh of chicken when Trimble and Gorley were dragged into the Great Hall, collared and chained. He didn't address them until the bone was picked clean and deposited in Nigel's front pocket. The adviser only smiled. He was used to his pockets being used as receptacles for the king's rubbish.

Trimble. Gorley. As Owenth spoke their names, a guard forced them to kneel. "I already heard a report from one of your underlings, but I want to hear about the mission in your own words. What went wrong?"

There was an exchange of glances between Trimble and Gorley as they silently challenged each other to speak. Tears glistened in Gorley's eyes as he mouthed the word, please, to his fellow captain.

Trimble cleared his throat and started, Well... we chased Mayra across the country and encountered heavy opposition.

Owenth's eyebrows shot up. "Heavy? How heavy? That wasn't the report I heard! I heard the enemy had one airship with only a handful of crewmen."

Yes, but... they had a cannon, sir.

"So? All ships are outfitted with cannons."

This cannon was exceedingly powerful, Your Majesty, Trimble said. It blew two of our airships to bits. We had to retreat. Then we had someone infiltrate the enemy and destroy the cannon before we—

"That someone was a female pretending to be a soldier, Owenth interrupted. How stupid are you that you'd think a woman was a man and hire her as a soldier?"

With respect, Your Majesty, it was Captain Shiraishi who hired her.

Oh? When the king leaned forward, his elbows landed on his knees. And where is Shiraishi now, might I ask?

He, uh... he disappeared, I s'pose.

Owenth jumped from his chair and growled, "Again, that is not what I heard! Let me sum it up for you, since you're too stupid to tell me the real story. Shiraishi and Mayra disappeared after you ripped through the enemy airship with the harpoon. That is why the princess went missing again. It's your fault!"

With downcast eyes, Trimble admitted, I... suppose I'm a bit to blame.