by Mary Calmes
SILENCE never failed me. When Elham El Masry stood in front of me with Rahab Bahur on his left, I waited.
“We announce our challenge of your maahes,” Elham said to me, Mikhail, Taj, Jamal, and Kabore. He was talking about Crane, who was glaringly absent. “And call for it at midday tomorrow.”
I waited.
They were silent.
My eyebrow arched slowly. “Is there more?”
Elham glowered. “I would think that would be enough.”
I cleared my throat. “My maahes, Crane Adams, accepts your challenge and will meet your champion in the forum at—”
“We will need the main coliseum, my lord, as riding is a requirement.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Of course,” I said, and I motioned for Taj. “Please see these men to their quarters and place members of the Shu on their balconies and doors.”
Rahab cackled. “I had heard that you had acquired the Shu from the priest. When Elham is semel-aten, we will restore those men to Asdiel Kovo.”
And there it was, out on the table.
“You wish Elham El Masry to be semel-aten?”
“I do,” he professed before Elham could grab his arm and stop him. “You’re an infidel and your reign is sacrilege. You are kadish and you make a mockery of all of us.”
I took a moment to let that sink in, to let it fill the space around us, be absorbed by my contingent and his, so no one could ever claim he hadn’t uttered his treasonous words.
“Did you hear me?”
“I did,” I said, meeting his eyes. “And for those words, when Elham’s champion is defeated, I will send you into exile and make your heir semel.”
Rahab scoffed, obviously very sure of Elham’s champion. “You do that, semel-aten.”
I shrugged, letting him see I wasn’t worried before I flicked my gaze to Elham. “As for you, when Crane’s man defeats yours, you will renounce all claim to my mastaba, and Ebere and her children will never see or hear from you again.”
His anger exploded out of him. “I’m her brother-in-law and an uncle to those—”
“The children are mine,” I roared back. “They are claimed by me, acknowledged by me, and are as much mine as they were their father’s. I—”
“They are Ammon’s, you son of a whore! You would not even know what to do in a woman’s bed! You’re a sodomite and—”
“Silence!” Mikhail hissed. “This is the semel-aten you speak to so freely. He could have you—”
“Your words seal your fate,” I interrupted, taking a step forward. “Tomorrow, when the champion of my maahes takes the field and wins, both of your lives are forfeit along with your man.”
“And when my man wins,” Elham crowed, “am I allowed to claim yours, my lord?”
He was really so sure of himself. “If you win and become maahes,” I said with a cold smirk, “then surely my days are numbered, are they not?”
I saw his hatred gleaming in his dark eyes. “Indeed they are, my lord.”
AFTER midnight, closer to one, I myself commanded a flurry of activity in Ebere’s chambers.
The lady herself was irritated with me. “What will this accomplish?” Maids flew around us, packing her up quickly, readying her for imminent departure. “If Crane loses, I will belong to Elham regardless of where I am. I prefer to meet my fate at your side.”
“Fuck no,” I growled. “You go back to Cairo, you get your girls, and if Crane loses, Kabore will call you and you get on a plane and you go to Logan. He’ll protect you.”
“Yes, but—”
“No but. There are laws and then there’s Logan. He does what’s right, and he and his mate will protect you and your girls from Elham El Masry.”
“But, Domin—”
“Let’s face it; no one wants to tangle with the nekhene cat. Period.”
“You’ll get no argument there,” she teased me.
I rushed forward, grabbed her tight, wrapped her in my arms, and squeezed until she caught her breath. “Just do what I say, my mastaba.”
She coiled her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. “You have shown me more respect and love as your mastaba than I was ever afforded as yareah. I am so proud to belong to you, Domin Thorne.”
“When I claimed you, I was doing it to protect myself from having to take a female mate to reproduce, but now I would do it again even if you had no children. I sort of like you.”
“I sort of like you too.”
I bent my head and kissed her cheek. “Please go and do what I’m telling you.”
“I will.”
“Okay,” I sighed, but I didn’t let her go and she didn’t pull away.
I lost track of how long we stood there.
Chapter 5
I DIDN’T sleep at all. Everything hung on a challenge I had no control over.
Crane was nowhere to be found, and no one could report having seen him. His rooms were empty, his bed was not slept in, and I could not reach him by phone. I didn’t think I could be any more worried until Kabore came to see me in my private suite on the second floor, in one of the smaller sitting rooms.
“Where is Lilitha?” I asked, because in the morning I normally saw the same serving woman. She always brought me my tea.
He was nervous and his coloring was off. “I’m sorry, my lord, but she’s dead.”
Crossing my arms, I stared into his eyes. “Why?”
“This morning I observed her putting honey in your morning tea.”
I squinted at him. “But I don’t like honey.”
“As I am well aware, my lord.” He sounded sad. “It is only goat’s milk that you like, and only ever at night.”
“Yes,” I agreed with him.
“So you understand my concern when I saw her adding it.”
“And?” I pried, even though I understood the outcome already.
“And so I confronted her, and when she tried to tell me that she had simply made a mistake, I had her drink the tea for me,” Kabore rasped, his eyes searching mine. “She apologized, insisted that she liked you, but that, really, Elham El Masry was the one and only true ruler of Sobek.”
“Sure.”
“It was quick and painless,” he asserted gently. “She was gone in seconds. It would have been the same for you. She didn’t want you to suffer.”
I took a breath, walked across the space to the edge of the roof, and there gazed out over the balcony. It hurt to learn of her betrayal, but it was also terrifying. My first thought was: what if Yuri had been home? My second was: what if Kabore were not so vigilant and the tea had come through to my chamber? Yuri actually took honey in his tea. He could have been…. For a moment I could barely breathe.
“My lord?”
I had liked Lilitha. Her sweet face, her laugh, and the way she made sure that if there were pomegranates in the kitchen, one was always set aside for me. She had cared, or so I thought. Apparently I was a terrible judge of character.
It took me a moment to pull myself together.
“Thank you for saving my life,” I finally said, not ready to look at him. “It seems that every day I understand why you were first Ammon El Masry’s steward and now mine.”
“Pardon, my lord, but I was not Ammon’s steward.”
This was news. I glanced at him over my shoulder.
“I came to this household with Ebere from Cairo. I was merely one of many, and when she went back home, I stayed on.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
“So when you came, they all inquired who wanted to run the house of the infidel, and I said that I, Kabore Nour… I would. I think it was fate.”
I frowned slightly.
“As I am of Ebere’s household, from the tribe of Khepri, and not from the tribe of Rahotep, there would never be another semel whose trust I could gain.”
It made sense.
“But you, the maverick semel from America—”
“Maverick?” I teased him.<
br />
“It’s true, my lord,” he said, gesturing at me. “You are a sin, are you not?”
“I’m a sin?” That was new.
“You are impure, you are not of the first tribe, and they say your reign is heretical, but I think not.”
“Oh no?”
“You seem to me like a man who has been through a test of faith, but your fate was to be semel-aten. How else could you be here?”
There was a valid argument to be made.
“You came from around the world, you killed Ammon El Masry in Mongolia, a place—I would lay you odds—that he never saw himself being. So many paths had to intersect to bring you to the place you had to be to take his life. I find it all fascinating, but for me, when the question was posed, I answered.”
“I’m glad.”
“I am quite proud to be your steward, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
“And I will stand with you and the others until things change.”
We stared at each other for long moments.
“Didn’t you ever want your own life, your own family?”
“Not all men are meant to be mated, my lord, and some, like yourself, sire no children, but that is service in some of its many forms, is it not?”
It was.
“I am here to serve you, my lord, and your sekhem.”
I had to ask. “And you see no abomination in my mate being another man?”
“Who am I to question the workings of fate, my lord?”
Indeed. “Thank you for saving my life.” It bore repeating.
“Thank you for making it easy,” he said hoarsely. “If you actually liked honey in your tea, things would all be quite different at this moment.”
“Perhaps you are my guardian.”
“Perhaps.”
As I related the story to Jamal in the throne room half an hour later, I puffed out some air. “It seems that I can trust no one but those in my closest circle.”
“No, my lord, you can trust me,” he said firmly. “I, too, like Kabore, can be trusted. I am your man.”
But how could I take his word?
Jamal seemed pained. “I have news, and it is not good.”
I twisted around against the stone edge of the patio off to one side of my room. “How? What’s worse than hearing that the woman in charge of bringing me my meals just tried to kill me?”
“Shahid Alon is Elham El Masry’s champion.”
The former second in command of the Shu. The man who had resigned his position instead of choosing to protect me, he was the one going up against Crane’s champion. It took a minute for that to sink in. “So that’s where he went when you all swore allegiance to me.”
“Yes. I told you he had resigned his position, but I had no idea where he went.”
“Why would you? He was no longer your concern.”
“I simply want there to be no misunderstanding between us. I had no correspondence from him, and so was not aware that he had sworn his life and loyalty to Elham.”
“I know,” I said softly. “Had you known, you would have alerted me.”
“Yes, I would have.”
“I didn’t know that Elham could bind men to him, as he is not a semel.”
“Even though he has no tribe of his own, he is, in fact, a member of your tribe, the tribe of Rahotep. He can still bond men to him as he is the heir to the semel.”
“The man is not my heir,” I corrected him.
“But by law he is, and as you have not put forth a new heir, if you were to die….”
“Then he would be semel-aten.”
“Yes.”
I had to laugh. “I will announce an heir tonight.”
“Excellent, my lord, but about Shahid—”
“What about him?”
“You’re not concerned?”
“Of course I am,” I said brusquely, “but what would you have me do?”
“My lord,” Jamal came closer. “I’ve tried to speak to Shahid, and so has Taj, but he won’t—he seems very set on his course and—”
“I’m sure he is.”
He moved closer still. “Perhaps if you were to—”
“Even if he liked being in bed with me, even if he remembered, that does nothing to help my cause.” I said, going back to gazing out at the valley and across to the mountains. “He thinks I’m unclean, and perhaps he knows that better than anyone.”
There was only silence behind me, so I assumed Jamal had nothing more to say. I could shock anyone if I put my mind to it.
IT WAS hot, but it always was. There were different degrees of heat. But it was never cool except in the shade or sometimes at night. So on the dais at one end of the coliseum, even under the canopy of silk stretched over the throne, I was cooking in my robes. The layers suffocated though the material itself was lightweight. But it was the least of my problems. The worst was the scene before me.
Crane reappeared when they called for the challenge, walking in from the courtyard, matching the stride of his man. I received no explanation; he didn’t even acknowledge me as he strode by, intent only on reaching the forum as quickly as possible. I couldn’t stop the contest even to have a word with him, with my absent maahes. It was not permitted. As I followed after him, I started devising all the creative ways I was going to kill him.
I held my breath. The trial was like nothing I had ever seen. It was called warriors of the Sun-God, or Khatyu of Ra—and it would not be bloody but was instead fast. Every challenge I had ever seen in the pit was beast against beast or semel against semel, shifted werepanthers trying to carve out each other’s hearts. I had never been witness to a race.
The challenge was simple: Elham’s best man against Crane’s.
I sat on the throne, Mikhail on one side of me, Jamal on the other, knowing that once Elham won, he would demand Crane’s head and then take his place in my circle, thereby able to spread venom and claim Ebere, by law, as his mate. Rahab Bahur would have access to everything I did, and between he and Elham, they would slowly siphon off my power a little at a time until I was left a prisoner in my own home. Worst of all, they would, eventually, come for Yuri after they stripped me of everyone else.
I was sick.
I was furious with Crane for allowing his pride to make a path not only to his destruction but mine. I could taste the bile in my throat.
Jin would never forgive me if Crane died, and even worse than that, there was Logan.
I shivered even though the sun scorched me from overhead. “You swore you had an answer for this challenge,” I called down the steps to Crane.
He was silent as the two riders entered the packed arena, each seated atop a stunning Arabian stallion. I had never seen such beautiful horses, one black, one white, as was fitting.
Crane stood five steps below me on my right, Elham on my left. He glanced over his shoulder at me and smirked.
“Domin.”
Head up, I found myself swallowed in the dark-green gaze of Koren Church.
“May I stand by you through this challenge, my lord?”
I nodded, the lifeline so very needed.
“Good.” He stood at my side and put his hand on my shoulder.
The priest of Chae Rophon, Asdiel Kovo, stood up three seats away from me as trumpets sounded. The riders quieted their mounts and then moved them to the starting line. There was a second blast as both animals flew forward. It was beautiful to watch such a gorgeous display of strength, the fluid movement of man and beast becoming one.
No one spoke, no one made a sound, and only the breath of the horses, the thunder of their hooves striking packed earth and the urgent cries of the men were heard.
Everyone watched as the horses thundered toward the turn. The riders were supposed to dismount, strip, shift, and then race back to the steps where their “master” stood. The first one back won. The khatyu of Ra, in legend, were supposed to have been able to fight in either form—man or panther—at a second’s notice. Only the Shu
were thought to be capable of such a display of shifting prowess in this the modern age, and Elham had been lucky enough to find a former member of the Shu to stand in the challenge for him.
Watching Crane, I realized how proud he was as he lifted the robe that was supposed to receive his rider. Elham did as well, his sneer of contempt as he regarded Crane easy to see.
“Here’s the shift,” Koren whispered.
Both men steered their mounts, and both leaped from the back of the horse, but that was where the similarity ended.
Crane’s rider hit the ground already shifted and burst free of the flowing robes, the turban, and all other articles of clothing, sliding out from under the flutter of white to reveal the sleek, muscular lines of the only black werepanther in the world.
The crowd came to their feet as one and the roar was deafening as Elham’s rider shifted almost instantly. It would have been impressive if the other—the change of the nekhene cat— had not been on display. He moved in a blur, streaming up the steps as the other panther raced in futile attempt to catch him.
He was already cocooned in the robe, had it cinched at his waist, and was facing the crowd, his long, thick black hair whipping back from his face by the time Shahid Alon reached the bottom step and lifted his eyes to Elham.
Everyone screamed as Jin Church, reah of the tribe of Mafdet, mate of the semel-netjer, turned to me, and along with Crane Adams, bowed low.
“The claim of Elham el Masry is denied,” the priest of Chae Rophon announced loudly to the assembled crowd. Even I could hear the regret in his voice. The man had wanted Crane dead and me in peril, but it was not to be. “What say you, semel-aten? Do you claim his rider as your own?”
He posed the question out of ritual; he did not actually expect an answer.
I glanced over at Shahid, shifted now back to human, and saw the terror on his face. “I claim him again for the Shu,” I said as I rose to my feet. “And if he’s mated, I claim his mate and any and all offspring of that union.”
I was always thorough.
The man closed his eyes, and I saw him breathing again.
Son of a bitch.
Shahid had left the Shu and married and sired a child. Of course he would do anything to protect that, and God only knew where Elham and Rahab were keeping his family. Perhaps Shahid had not sought them out, but instead, perhaps my enemies had gone hunting for him, searching for the ringer, a former member of the Shu to win with.
