A Queen's Pride

by N. D. Jones

  “You gave them permission to torture the girl.”

  “How the hell else did you think we were going to get her to sign? You’re worthless, Silas. Spineless and worthless.”

  “Spineless? I don’t see you down there with your Sergeant Major. If your spine is made of sterner stuff than mine, then go down there and tell General Volt it was you who gave the order to have her sekhem tortured. You go, and I’ll stay here and watch you through my nice binoculars while she rips out that spine you think so highly of.”

  “Shut up. . . . Did you hear that?” Frank lifted the walkie-talkie between them. “The general said something to the girl.”

  “Her hand is still on the PTT button?”

  “She must want us to hear what’s going on.”

  “What did she—”

  “Shush.”

  “Live or die, my sekhem. What is your will?”

  “Did she just?” His fingers on the binoculars tightened.

  “The girl decides our fate.”

  Silas had feared as much, but Frank sounded stunned. “She’s their leader. It’s her right.”

  “She’s a girl. Eighteen. A child. Our fate shouldn’t be decided by a child.” Frank pressed the lens of his binoculars against the pane of glass. “It’s for show. All of those felidae won’t listen to a girl barely out of high school. The general, sure, but not a child. She rules nothing. Not a goddamn thing, Silas.”

  It began as one, maybe two roars, then grew to twenty. Fifty. A hundred. More. More. Within seconds, the hundreds of Shona who’d converged on his headquarters were roaring. Lights in his office flickered, the building shook, and Silas thought a tornado had touched down right outside his window.

  They raged. The sounds of their fury an ear-splitting, heart-pounding prelude to death. Silas was sure they would rush the gate, break down the doors, and swarm inside. Any moment he would hear the scratch of claws outside his door then feel the prick of sharp teeth at his throat.

  “Too loud. Hurts.” Frank dropped to his knees, binoculars and walkie-talkie skidded across the floor, and hands covered ears.

  Silas wanted to take cover like Frank. Instead, he watched his office windows crack. Warm air seeped through the fragments, and still the Shona roared.

  Lions.

  Tigers.

  Jaguars.

  Leopards.

  Cougars.

  They’d all come to return their sekhem to Shona.

  The sound intensified, and Silas thought he would pass out. They would come—claws and fangs. He’d killed his wife and daughter. He’d killed himself. The Shona would . . .

  The roaring stopped. Not decreased but . . . no sound. Silence.

  Silas picked up the binoculars he hadn’t known he’d let slip from his moist hands. Wiping the sweat from his face, he pressed his eyes to the eyepieces.

  Sergeant Major Hernandez was hightailing it away from his truck and toward the security gate. General Volt and the other felidae female looked down at Asha. Silas recognized the woman with the short haircut and the male who held Asha as two of the Shieldmanes who’d waited in the hall outside of the conference room while the royal family had been inside with Silas and Frank.

  The two survivors. Not one.

  Silas no longer cared. What mattered most was what Asha would do next. He sensed Frank moving beside him but didn’t look away from the girl.

  Asha raised her hand. With a single finger pointed away from his headquarters, the Shona turned and, in military formation, marched down the street. The lions took the lead, followed by the Shona in human form.

  A white SUV limousine with gold rims and a gold and white Kingdom of Shona car flag on the hood pulled beside General Volt. The driver hopped out, opened the rear driver’s side door, and helped the young Shieldmane with their sekhem. Once Asha was inside, the driver climbed back into the truck and General Volt and the two Shieldmanes joined their hurt sekhem inside the luxury vehicle. Then they were off. The remaining Shona cats ran behind the vehicle.

  In less than five minutes not a single felidae remained on Imperial Street. A finger. That was all it had taken to command hundreds of felidae.

  Silas collapsed to the floor, his heart in his throat. For ten minutes, he and Frank sat in silence. They’d survived but . . .

  “That’s way too much power for a girl to have.”

  “Not a girl, Frank.”

  “A devil’s spawn, like Stormbane said then.”

  After Asha’s command, Silas wouldn’t argue against Sergeant Major Hernandez’s contention. “I don’t care what in the hell she is, as long as she’s gone.” Is the girl really gone, though? God, I hope so.

  Silas should’ve felt relieved. His life had been returned to him. In time, Vumarian citizens would forget about the Shona royal family and Erik DeGracey’s interview with General Volt. He would turn his party’s lawyers loose on Mr. Lyle Rhodes’s little nothing law firm. The owner of Sanctum Hotel would prove to be a nonissue. In time, he too would turn his focus to other matters. He would give it six months, maybe a year. They would be fine. The First Evolution Union Party would be stronger than ever and, fifteen years from now, Silas would win another term for his party. He would drop Frank from the FEU ticket, of course. But that would come later.

  For now, Silas held shaky hands to chest, slowed his breathing, and counted his blessings.

  The walkie-talkie crackled. It was on the floor somewhere with them. There, under his desk. He crawled to it but stopped when a hoarse voice came across the line.

  “Stormbane. London. Royster. Death does not knock on the door.”

  Chapter 11: Lady of the House of Books

  Kingdom of Shona

  City of GoldMeadow

  Snuggled under her duvet and eyes closed, Asha listened as first Tamani and then Ekon left her bedroom. Asha didn’t think either believed her to be asleep, but she would rather not deal with seeing them watch her for signs of pain—emotional and physical. So, she kept her eyes closed and duvet pulled to her chin until her silent message prompted Ekon and Tamani’s reluctant action.

  The bed dipped and, without opening her eyes, she turned toward a mirage made real. Asha wrapped an arm around Mafdet’s waist and buried her head in her lap—not wanting to cry but unable to stop the tears from falling.

  “It’s all right. You’re safe now. You’re home and you’re safe. I have you, my sekhem.”

  Mafdet’s sekhem, not her hafsa sekhem. Yes, Asha was home and safe, so were Mafdet and Ekon. But not Zarina and Bambara. They were forever lost to her. But the gods had spared Asha and they’d returned Mafdet to her. For those two blessings, Asha would always be grateful to her gods.

  Still . . . her heart hurt and, while having Mafdet alive and at her side filled her with relief and joy, a bleeding hole had formed in her chest. A hole, Asha feared, that would never mend.

  “They’re gone,” she said through sobs punctuated by a runny nose. “I felt them leave me. In my mind, I heard Mom take her final breaths, and I wanted to go with her . . . with them both. I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve died too.”

  Strong, tender hands cupped Asha’s damp cheeks and lifted her face. She shifted with the movement, rising onto her elbows and looking up at Mafdet.

  Her godmother stared down at her, penetrating eyes bordered by worry lines above and dark circles below. “If you wanted to die . . . if you believed you should’ve died, you wouldn’t have fought so hard to live. I promised I would find you. But I didn’t. I failed you and your parents.”

  “No, Mafdet, you—”

  “I. Failed. You.” Mafdet emphasized each word, her guilt an invisible tether between them. “But you didn’t fail yourself. Sometimes, Asha, when the world seems to conspire against you, the best you can do is endure . . . survive. You did both.”

  Mafdet leaned in and kissed Asha’s forehead—the gesture heartwarming and an unpleasant reminder that she would never again feel Zarina kiss her in the same way.

 
“I’m so very sorry for your loss, Asha. I mourn them too.”

  “I know. You loved them as much as I did.”

  Mafdet nodded, her own tears seeping from wilted, red eyes.

  How many hours has Mafdet gone without sleep? When Asha had first awakened, Mafdet had been by her side, as had Ekon. But Asha had no idea how long ago that had been or how long she’d been unconscious after she’d passed out on the drive to the airstrip. One day? Two?

  Asha lowered her head to Mafdet’s lap again—selfish in her need to keep her close for a little longer.

  Mafdet stroked her hair the same way she’d kissed her forehead—like Zarina. Whether deliberate or not, Asha didn’t know, but she craved the familiar touch even if the hand didn’t belong to the woman she most wanted to soothe her broken heart. But she loved Mafdet, so she soaked in every ounce of her affection.

  “I’m here. You aren’t alone.”

  I know, but it’s not the same.

  “You’re tired.” With a squeeze to Mafdet’s waist and a kiss to her cheek, Asha turned away and curled into a ball. “You need your rest. With the bullets removed, I’ll heal quickly.” Not that she recalled being operated on, but common sense and closed wounds were clues enough. “I don’t need a babysitter but thank you.”

  Asha buried her head under the covers, a silent but rude dismissal. If Mafdet stayed, her guilt a suffocating fog, it would only add to her own depression.

  “Sleep well, Asha.”

  She tried, but she slept fitfully, dreaming of callous humans.

  A cold spray of water slammed her head against the warehouse floor, cracking her skull and cutting her face. Asha’s eyes flew open. Room dark, the shaft of moonlight through the open blinds cast spotlights on two figures at the foot of her bed. Asha’s heart leapt, as did her body, vaulting from her bed, happier than she’d been in days.

  “Mom. Dad.”

  A dream. No, a nightmare. Everything she’d experienced had to have been a dreadful nightmare. Asha dashed to the foot of the bed, grin big and arms open wide.

  “Mommy. Daddy.” She reached for her parents, desperate to feel them . . . to have them hold her.

  Her arms met air. Asha tried again, but she couldn’t touch her parents. But they were right in front of her as Mafdet had been.

  No, not like Mafdet.

  Asha sank to the foot of her bed. Her parents had returned home, but not in the same way as Asha, Mafdet, and Ekon had. Ghosts. Restless souls. Zarina and Bambara smiled at Asha, and her heart ached anew.

  Mafdet was wrong. Asha was very much alone.

  Although Ekon stayed upwind of Asha, he knew the second she’d caught his scent. She didn’t shift in his direction, but she did snap her book closed and wrap a beach towel around it. He had no idea what book she didn’t want him to know she was reading. Likely, it came from her mother’s personal library. Other than the beach, Asha spent most of her time in Sekhem Zarina’s home office.

  Removing his flip-flops, Ekon strolled from the sand dunes where he’d been watching Asha, and down the hill, digging toes into the hot sand as he moved closer to his MIA sekhem.

  Yanking off his T-shirt but leaving on his shorts, Ekon dropped the shirt and shoes a few feet from Asha’s outstretched legs. “It’s a scorcher out here.” Ekon smiled down at Asha, happy to see her.

  Reclined on her back, nothing between her body and the grainy, hot sand, Ekon couldn’t tell if Asha’s eyes were open or closed, thanks to the dark shades she’d put on after sensing him. Asha didn’t smile. That much he could see.

  Ekon plopped down next to her, legs bent at the knees and gaze on the brilliant blue of Tideless Depths Ocean instead of on Asha. While it may have taken her two weeks to fully recover from her injuries, her body no longer bore outward evidence of her torture. She was all lean, bronze sexiness in a barely there red bikini.

  “I’m home now, Ekon. I don’t require a Shieldmane to follow me everywhere I go.”

  “What about a friend?” Ekon glanced over his shoulder. Asha still wore her black shades, but she’d pulled them atop her head, using them to keep her bangs out of her eyes. “There you are, my sekhem.”

  With the bright sun beaming down on them, Asha’s eyes should’ve glistened with vibrance. They used to twinkle like gold coins unearthed on the ocean floor—the finder blessed for the discovery. Ekon indeed felt blessed to have Asha safe and at home, no matter how dim her eyes and spirit had become. When he’d seen her in the black SUV, eyes closed and body marked with abrasions, blood, and bullet wounds, he’d wanted to kill every human who had dared to lay hands on her.

  Only Asha’s need for medical attention had kept Ekon from turning savage and murdering the driver and passenger. Following General Volt’s and Mafdet’s lead, he’d controlled the beast within. The human soldiers had hurt Asha, and he hadn’t been able to keep her from harm.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve been a better Shieldmane.” Ekon hadn’t gone in search of Asha for himself. Yet, every time he saw her, he found himself wracked with guilt. Unwilling to maintain the distance Asha had become too comfortable placing between them, he reclined next to her on his elbow.

  “You look sad, Ekon.”

  “I was thinking the same of you. And tired. You aren’t sleeping, are you?”

  “I see too much when I sleep.”

  So did Ekon. So too did Mafdet, probably, not that the Shieldmane would admit to having nightmares. Of the three of them, only Asha had returned to Shona unlike the person she’d been before leaving.

  Ekon scooted closer, wanting to kiss her, but they hadn’t been that close since the fateful night at Sanctum Hotel. Did Asha still love him? He hoped so because his feelings for her hadn’t changed.

  “I think you spend more time on this beach than anywhere else.”

  “The water is soothing, and the open space makes me feel free.”

  “They can’t hurt you anymore. You’ll never again be their prisoner.”

  Asha rarely spoke of her two days with the Rogueshade soldiers. None of what she had shared included details of her torture. If not for Dr. Ochill, Ekon, Mafdet, and General Volt wouldn’t have known the extent of what she had endured. Asha had undergone hours of surgery to reset bones, close gashes, and remove bullets. For three days she slept, with Mafdet and Ekon sitting vigil.

  When Mafdet and General Volt had taken Dr. Ochill aside, out of Ekon’s range of hearing, he’d known what they’d asked the doctor. When they’d returned to the family waiting area, the women’s faces had still been tight from worry but some of the tension around their mouths had eased. No female should be a victim of sexual assault, especially a virgin. As awful as the Rogueshade had been to Asha, none of them had raped her.

  Leaning closer, Ekon’s face hovered over Asha’s. “Promise me you’ll never stand between me and protecting you again.”

  “No.”

  “No? That’s it? Just no?”

  “Would you prefer I lie?”

  “I would prefer you stop being so . . . so . . .”

  “What? Quiet? Distant? Cold?” An eyebrow arched, and that was the most emotion he’d seen from Asha in months.

  “I’m here for you, if you want to talk. Even if you don’t want to talk, I’m still here. Distant is an apt word. We don’t hang out anymore. We don’t laugh or joke. We don’t hold hands or kiss. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you smile.”

  The last sentence wasn’t strictly true. Asha had smiled when she’d used the Rogueshade’s walkie-talkie to deliver a parting death threat to the three most responsible for killing her parents and of torturing her. The smile, however, hadn’t come from a place of joy but from Asha’s deep pain.

  “When I awoke, Mafdet was seated in a chair beside my bed. I smiled then.”

  “You cried. I was on the other side of your bed, Asha, remember?”

  “Yet another reason for me to be happy.”

  “Come on. Let me in.” Giving in to temptation, Ekon pressed
his lips to Asha’s. Nothing demanding. He wouldn’t dare. But he lingered for a few seconds, hoping she would reciprocate.

  She did not.

  “Do you feel nothing for me now?”

  Reaching up, Asha wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, hugging him close. “I’m trying, but I can’t.”

  “Trying what?”

  “To feel something other than hatred and grief. I’m full to overflowing with both. I breathe them. Eat and drink them. They rule my sleeping mind and fight me for dominance during the day.”

  Ekon wished he had the right words. For what she’d lost, and how, there were none. A year was but a morsel of time.

  “I know it hurts.” Squeezing her tightly, he kissed her cheek and wiped away her tears. “No one can make you hurt less. Nothing can do that but time. I’m not going anywhere, Asha, not as long as you want and need me. I’m your Shieldmane, unless you reassign me. Whether I’m also still your boyfriend, that too is for you to decide. You owe me nothing. I won’t hold you to anything you said when we were in the walk-in freezer.”

  Slowly, Ekon withdrew from their embrace, wanting to hold on but giving action to his words. Asha had too much going on in her life to fit him into it the way he would like. Being sekhem kept her busy, even with the help of her advisors. Young Asha may be, but unintelligent and arrogant she wasn’t. One of her first decisions, after she was healthy enough to begin her duties as sekhem, was to create an advisory council.

  Asha stared up at him. They’d gotten her back, but in pieces.

  “I don’t want to lose you too, but I no longer know what I have to offer you. My lengthy silences and absences would be unfair. I can barely stand to be in my house. I hear my parents’ voices. See their noncorporeal forms. I smell them too.” Asha’s hand rose to her heart. “I feel them in here, but also everywhere I go. They aren’t at rest. Their souls deserve to be at rest in the Garden of the Sacred Flame.”

  Removing her sunglasses, she tossed them onto the sand. Limp bangs cascaded down, concealing an eye but not Asha’s emotional confession.