A Queen's Pride

by N. D. Jones

  “What I want is for you to follow your chief’s orders. That’s your job, unless you want to find another one.”

  “Ah, y-yes, sir. I’ll . . . umm . . . I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”

  Faster than he’d ever seen the fifty-five-year-old woman move, she all but ran from Silas and to her desk, picking up a phone that hadn’t made a sound.

  Silas slammed his door. Snatching the remote control from his desk, he did something he told himself not to do the entire ride in from home. He switched on the television. The interview was breaking news on every news station, and it had been replaying for the last two hours.

  Standing in the middle of his office, the red, white, and green flag of the Republic of Vumaris on the wall behind the television armoire, Silas watched Erik DeGracey interview General Tamani Volt of the Kingdom of Shona—a brunette he wouldn’t want to meet without a squad of Rogueshade at his back. No matter how poised and pretty or how articulate and bright she came across as, her hands reminded him too much of Sergeant Major Hernandez’s—strong and steady from years of gun use.

  If this interview had taken place on any other network news show, Silas could’ve dismissed it and moved on. But DeGracey’s show, Real Talk, Real Matters, was respected by a cross section of Vumaris because he held no partisan leanings. If he did, no one knew what they were because he didn’t use his show as an ideological platform.

  DeGracey, dressed in a black pinstripe suit that fit his fifty-year-old body to tailor-made perfection, the businessman turned television personality sat on a couch beside his guest. Considering the hotel room belonged to General Volt and she had been the one to contact DeGracey, he was more her guest than she was his.

  Relaxed as they were, with legs crossed and backs against the couch cushions, they looked like old friends meeting to catch up after a mutual friend’s funeral.

  “Walk us through this again, General. Are you saying the First Evolution Union Party’s Chief Royster is behind the deaths of Sekhem Zarina and Khalid Bambara of the Kingdom of Shona, as well as the kidnapping of their eighteen-year-old daughter, Hafsa Sekhem Asha?”

  “Not at all, Erik. I would never make such an unfounded accusation.”

  DeGracey’s fingers steepled, and his nod had the same effect as if he’d said, “Go on,” aloud.

  “I will share details gathered from two Shieldmane survivors of the massacre at Sanctum Hotel.”

  Massacre at Sanctum Hotel. He’d heard those four words on the radio on his drive in, and on the lips of staff who hadn’t known he was within hearing range. Massacre at Sanctum Hotel scrolled across the bottom of the television screen, a visual to solidify the verbal.

  The general had also mentioned two survivors. Sergeant Major Hernandez had gotten that detail wrong. One person’s testimony could be easier explained away than two.

  “Fact one, my sekhem and khalid came to this country as an act of trust and diplomacy to renew an eighty-year-old peace treaty between our countries. Fact two, Chief Royster and Deputy Chief London presented them with an addendum that would’ve had them, if signed, ceding portions of northern Shona to Vumaris.”

  DeGracey turned to the camera, his salt-and-pepper goatee and short-styled hair adding an air of professional authority to his words of, “If you recall, viewers, the First Evolution Union Party ran on a platform of expansionism, nationalism, and financial solvency. In light of the events at Sanctum Hotel, we must ask ourselves: Is this what our leaders meant? Were the votes of millions of Vumarian citizens a vote for territorial expansion? If so, at what cost?” With another pointed look to the invisible viewers who kept Real Talk, Real Matters the number one early morning news program, DeGracey turned back to General Volt. “Please, go on.”

  “Fact three, Sekhem Zarina and Khalid Bambara rejected the addendum and ended the meeting early. The Shieldmanes escorted the family back to Sanctum Hotel where they all enjoyed dinner together. Sadly, that meal would prove to be their last. Fact four, later that evening, toxic gas filled the hallway where my leaders and their daughter were housed. Fact five, a bodyguard radioed to another guard, informing her there were unauthorized and armed humans in the building.”

  “Soldiers?”

  “Most likely, yes. The surviving Shona guards contacted Minra Police Department as soon as it was safe for them to do so. By that time, however, our leaders were dead, their daughter taken, and four of my Shieldmanes killed. I forgot to continue my count.”

  A heavy sigh had her closing her eyes for a second and uncrossing toned, tanned legs. The general was one hell of an actress. Silas didn’t doubt her sincerity. The woman was upset about the deaths of her leaders. That registered loud and clear in every enunciated word but not quite gory descriptions. That’s the part that rang false for Silas. The portrait she painted was done with deliberate strokes. Royster, London, and their party as the bad guys. Zarina, Bambara, and Asha the good guys. The general was smart, though, because she avoided being that explicit, but she needn’t have been. People would make their own leap, drawing the conclusion she wanted them to form.

  “Show the pictures to the audience again, General.”

  She did.

  Silas had seen them earlier. Honestly, they weren’t much different from the ones Frank’s stalker friend had taken of the royal family. The one difference, an important one, being that the pictures on his television screen had been taken in and around the royal family’s home in GoldMeadow. They chronicled Asha’s life with her parents. The final picture was of the royal family in front of their personal plane, Asha in the middle with the three smiling and waving at the photographer.

  “This was taken the day they left for Minra. We had planned for their return. Now, we must plan six funerals. We hope there will not be a need for a seventh.”

  “We understand how difficult this must be for you and for the people of Shona.”

  General Volt wiped her eyes. Her once steady hand trembled, as did her lower lip. “Yes, a challenging time.”

  “If you are up to it, I’ll show the footage.”

  “Yes, please do.”

  More eye wiping but no trembling hands or lips. One fine actress, indeed.

  DeGracey faced the camera again, which zoomed in close enough to reveal the crow’s feet makeup couldn’t conceal, but also the grave expression that matched his voice.

  “General Volt contacted me with the most incredible story. I didn’t want to believe what she told me. But, my faithful viewers, she turned me into a believer.” The camera zoomed in a little more. “On this show, I deal only in facts . . . in evidence. Well, the evidence General Volt shared with me left my mouth open and my eyes drenched. For many reasons, mainly out of respect for the dead and the good people of Shona, I do not have permission to share with you all of the camera footage that was shared with me.”

  Even after having seen the footage, Silas couldn’t help but choke on the realization that much of the mission had been caught on tape. Hernandez had assured him and Frank that he’d taken care of the security footage. Silas had believed the soldier. But he must’ve lied. He couldn’t figure out any other way the Shona could have security tapes in their possession.

  “What I can tell you is that I saw what looked to be trained soldiers use an unidentified gas to draw the leaders of Shona from their suite. Once they were in the hallway, it was a bloody, vicious battle to save their lives. They fought. They killed. They did what most of us would do in their situation. Parents, my faithful viewers, Sekhem Zarina and Khalid Bambara were parents. Like me.” He pointed at the camera. “Like many of you. They fought to save themselves and their only child.”

  A picture of a smiling Asha appeared on a split screen beside the image of DeGracey.

  “Take a good look at this sweet young lady. She is the only surviving member of the Leothos family.”

  The images of DeGracey and Asha disappeared, replaced by a black-and-white video of the rear of Sanctum Hotel.

  A black SUV
waited by the loading area—a driver already inside. Although, from the camera’s angle, Silas could see only the man’s arm and his left hand on the steering wheel. Three men, tall, big, and armed with guns, escorted a young female from the hotel and toward the waiting truck. One of the men, a dark-haired guy with a beard, opened a back seat door and, not so much helped Asha inside as pushed her in.

  The video was rewound a few seconds then paused on the scene with the man’s arm on Asha’s shoulder and she unresisting.

  The screen split again, and DeGracey reappeared. “What you saw in that footage was the new Sekhem of the Kingdom of Shona being kidnapped by, dare I say, members of our own military? Can I make such a bold statement, friends? I think I can. Take a look at that tattoo—the skull and crossbones. Our army has a unit known as the Bone Cleavers. This is their symbol. I know anyone can get that symbol put on their body. But look at these men. Their outfits. Their weapons. The SUV with no recognizable tag. I will stop short of saying our national government is behind the attack at Sanctum Hotel and the assassination of two world leaders. But the question must be raised. Who else would’ve had motive, means, and opportunity?”

  Silas clicked the television off and tossed the remote onto his desk. He couldn’t stomach the rest, especially General Volt’s demand for Silas to, “Release Sekhem Asha to the Shieldmane of Shona posthaste.”

  Posthaste his ass. He couldn’t release the girl. Not only had she not signed the addendum, which was pointless after DeGracey’s show because any cession of Shona land would be viewed through a tainted lens of blood and death, Asha was also the only survivor who could directly link Silas and Frank to the Rogueshade. They had also passed the point of being able to kill the girl without severe ramifications to their political career and lives.

  Silas staggered to his office sofa and collapsed. His heart and head pounded—one from pain, the other from fear. What in the hell am I going to do, and where is Frank? We need to talk. We need to—

  Knock. Knock.

  “I said I didn’t want to be interrupted.”

  “Umm . . . yes, sir, I know. But there is a General Volt on the line for you. She’s the woman from—”

  “I know where she’s from. Tell her—”

  “She said you either speak with her on the phone now or in person later at your home.”

  Silas swore he saw stars and his heart ceased beating. Lungs constricted and skin tightened. He couldn’t breathe. Silas could barely think.

  “Sir, what should I tell her?”

  He licked dry lips, held the armrest and used it to push to his feet, afraid he’d fall from the weight of the house of cards he’d built falling down around him.

  “Transfer the call to my line, Margaret.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The phone rang, and Silas rushed to answer. Better to rip the bandage off the wound than to peel it back by slow, painful degrees.

  “Chief Royster here.”

  “Ah, the man himself. This is General Volt of Sekhem Asha’s Royal Shieldmane Guard.”

  “I know who you are.”

  “As I know who you are. Pleasantries aren’t required. You know what I want.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I truly am, but I’m not responsible for the terrible events that took place at Sanctum Hotel. I don’t know who is, but I’m willing to work with the Shona government to find the culprits.”

  “I didn’t call to argue the truth or to be lied to. We want our sekhem returned to us. Alive and healthy, Chief Royster. That is our demand.”

  “Your demand? This is my country.”

  “And Sekhem Asha is the leader of our country. We will have her returned to us or there will be war between Vumaris and Shona.”

  “War, but I don’t have—”

  “Look out your window.”

  “My what?” Dragging the phone with him, Silas pulled up the blinds behind his desk, looked down, and . . . “What the hell . . .?”

  “I take it you see us.”

  Hell yes, he saw them. Beginning at the gate to his party’s headquarters and ending a block away at the oldest post office in Minra were lions. Two hundred. Maybe three.

  “If you look out other windows in your building, you’ll see more of us.”

  “More?”

  “I do love the quiver in your voice. I suspect, if I were there with you, I would smell your fear. Are you sweating with fear, Chief Royster? I think you are, as well as you should. Because if our sekhem is not brought to us within the hour, no god or gun will stand between the Shieldmane and absolute destruction of Minra. That includes the Shieldmanes I’ve dispatched to your home. Your daughter is as lovely and as young as our sekhem. Her life means nothing to me, as the lives of Sekhem Zarina and Khalid Bambara meant nothing to you and Deputy Chief London. One hour.”

  Click.

  Phone gripped in his sweaty hand, Silas stared out his office window. Not all the Shona were in lion form. Two rows of felidae with military-style weapons served as an armed perimeter around the lions, reminding Silas of what he’d told Frank. Shona had modern weapons of war.

  Silas hung up the phone, only to have it ring again. “Chief Royster, what?”

  “Finally.”

  Shit, Governor Billings.

  “I trust you’ve seen who’s surrounding your headquarters.”

  “A threat to national security. As governor, I expect you to send in the state national guard. The Minra PD should’ve already been dispatched to this location, but I don’t see a single patrol car.”

  “And you won’t. No MPD or national guard is coming your way. As chief, you have the power to use the federal army to engage the Shona, but I would strongly suggest against that decision.”

  “I won’t be bullied. This is our goddamn country, not theirs. But they have surrounded my headquarters like some kind of invading force.”

  “If I had known this stupid, weak side of you existed, I would’ve never voted for you and London. Despite our rocky history with the felidae, the Kingdom of Shona have been good neighbors. Would I have liked for us to have secured some of their land like you and London promised? Sure. Did I want Shona land badly enough to kill for it? No. That’s what separates us.”

  “London and I aren’t responsible for what happened at Sanctum Hotel.”

  “Sell that shit to someone else. I saw the security footage, and I know Frank London. Those were our boys and girls at the hotel. I don’t know what off-the-books special ops group London put together. What I do know is that we have states that border Shona, including this one. General Volt is prepared to retaliate with ‘brutal and unrelenting force.’ Her words, in case you couldn’t figure it out, if we don’t produce an alive Sekhem Asha in—”

  “An hour, I know.”

  “In fifty-five minutes. I don’t know about you, but I like my life and I don’t want it to end today.”

  Silas sank onto his desk chair, phone pressed to his ear. “Did she send Shieldmanes to your home too?”

  “My home. My office. Even to my ex’s condo. We could fight them, but it would be simpler just to give them what they want.”

  “What makes you think the general will keep her word?”

  “She may not. That’s a risk I’ve decided to take. This is what I know. They’re here. They crossed our borders in large numbers and we didn’t notice. If you think the felidae we see are the only ones in our country, then you’re a bigger fool than you’ve already proven yourself to be. I don’t care what shape Sekhem Asha is in, although I pray, for all our sakes, that she hasn’t been raped or tortured. I fear, if either is the case, Minra’s streets will run red with human blood.”

  Run red with human blood. Not so different from what he’d read about Goddess Sekhmet’s rampage.

  “You can’t make this right, but you can minimize the consequences. Tell whoever has the sekhem to deliver her to her general so she can take her people the hell out of our country.”

  Like General Volt, Governor
Billings hung up on Silas.

  Who do Billings and Volt think they are? The Chief of the Republic of Vumaris does not take orders from a governor, let alone a general from another country.

  Silas looked out the window again. Golden fur and thick manes. He’d never seen so many lions. They weren’t even seated. Each stood at attention, face forward and legs unmoving. The headquarters had armed guards but not enough to prevent the building from being overrun.

  Sweat stained his shirt, dotted his forehead, and fell into eyes unable to look away from the deadly sight of a Shona army at his front door.

  Backing away, Silas rushed to his office door and swung it open. “Margaret, I need London in my office ASAP.”

  Chapter 10: She Who Perseveres During Times of Struggles

  Ten Hours Earlier

  Asha dreamed of clear skies, warm water, and new books. Of Zarina’s too-sweet tea, Bambara’s prickly beard, and Mafdet’s secret stash of romantic comedies. Of Ekon’s boyish smile, their first kiss, and his kind heart.

  Asha dreamed of home. Of normalcy. Of her soft bed and clean clothes. Of food and showers and people who loved her.

  Asha dreamed of dying.

  She could no longer feel her arms. After the second low-caliber bullet to her back, she’d lost feeling below the waist. She had thrown up on the same warehouse floor where they’d killed and left the lions. Her senses acute, her healing slow, eyes shut and she on the disgusting warehouse floor, Asha listened to the shuffle and chatter of the Rogueshade soldiers.

  After they’d killed the lions, no one had dared to approach. As long as they had long-distance weapons, they didn’t need chains. They’d calculated that the use of low-caliber guns would take her to the edge of her pain threshold but not kill her. Except, of course, for the fact that she could die from blood loss.

  Against her will, she’d cried out. In fury. In grief. In pain.

  Asha thought Ekon and Tamani would’ve found her by now. She had faith they still would, no matter how long it took them. She didn’t want them to find her dead body. Not like this. Not the image of a tortured, bloody corpse that would scar their souls and birth their nightmares. Asha loved them too much to have her death haunt their lives.