Cross-legged, meditating, Prince Mazin sat in the unending darkness of the void. His mind focused on the whispers surrounding him. Indecipherable and incoherent, a monotony of calm to combat the rumbling in his chest. The void was always a shock to his body every time he entered it.
Mazin opened his eyes. It made no difference. The void was not for those who feared darkness. What came before the void? Wine, beer, piles of books, then Ma and Zaki’s departure. All of it ended on a soft mattress.
He enjoyed the random whispers, concocting a rhythm from their chaos. Mazin swayed, enjoying the imagined tone, pondering why he was in the void this time.
“I found you.”
The music he concocted dissipated, forming a silhouette. Others echoed around blackness, bouncing off unseen walls before fading.
“Feline, or mortal?” He asked, plucking petals from the flower of his mind.
“You are learning, I am mortal.”
One Tamer came to mind.
“This is Ei…”
“Do not speak my name!”
The void rumbled.
“This is open to unwanted ears.”
“Can we speak privately in the void?”
“After you have bonded.”
“Are you doing this to me?”
“The void is the void, and dark Tamers enter it, but it is for all Tamers.”
“I could find my…” Mazin stopped himself. “I can bring other Tamers here?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, there is greater control once you bond.”
“Why am I unable to see you? When I speak to dark Felines, I see their eyes.”
Eiji stayed quiet for longer than he expected. The figure formed from the incoherent muttering trembled.
“You are too trusting.”
“I know who you are.”
“Do you?”
Another tremor ran through the silhouette’s body. Mazin told himself it was nothing, he wanted more from this. Silence filled the void, and he shifted on his feet, searching for the right words.
“How do I shadow jump?”
“Power is earned.”
A phrase he suffered since he turned nine, though his snarl wasn’t any less sour. From Ma’s lips first, then every other Tamer after her.
“A question for faces?” Mazin asked.
“Your bonding will answer more than you realise.”
Disappointment, one that pushed him to leave. His patience was spent, and the void irritated him.
“As bountiful as the void seems, lingering within is dangerous. It is slumber without rest, I will leave you with that.”
Eiji’s words wilted like a browning plant, the indecipherable whispers forming his silhouetted dissipated.
The whispers were no longer a chaotic tune, now an irritable noise. He fell, down into the endless darkness soon after. Fatigue shattered him before fear took hold. His weight doubled right as his eyes truly opened.
An avalanche of wine sickness pummelled him behind his eyes. Sweat drenched his bare torso, snatching the silk sheets beneath him when he rose. The wine sickness hammered him back down with a groan. Massaging his temples didn’t help, nor pinching the bridge of his nose. Mazin turned on his side as last night’s supper rumbled his stomach. He covered his mouth with his fingers and froze, begging the searing bitterness to recede.
It would fade eventually; wine sickness would be the worst he would ever face as a Tamer. Acknowledging his privilege did help suppress his upset stomach, but he still fought his ailing body and nausea when he rose again. The morning sun pierced the gaps between his closed shutters, colouring his dim room.
He sat on the side of his bed, cradling his head with trembling hands. His nose drowned in the stink of bile, last night’s food and sour sweat. The bitterness returned to his throat. Mazin puffed his cheeks when it seared the back of his throat, bitter bile tickled his tongue.
The prince was begging again, with a clenched fist supporting his lips. He shut his eyes to slow its rise, then shuddered when he dared to swallow the horror back down. Mazin took a deep breath and stood, eyes still shut. His thick wool pants were hardened by sweat, and he might have torn them off if he wasn’t nude beneath them.
What did I do last night?
Mazin recalled Zaki’s arrival in the evening, irritated by Oma’s vanishing, yet excited by the elders. Then they shared in a sudden grief, for the bonding would only involve Zaki. He recalled a drunken promise from Zaki to ride north with him, but soon after that Ma arrived to drag Zaki away. She forced him to sleep his drunkenness away.
That was it, he hoped. Mazin chuckled to himself.
His mismatched eyes opened after a yawn. The wine sickness eased as he made his way to the closest water jug. After draining the entire jug, he was almost cured.
Mazin enjoyed the warmth glowing through the gaps of his shutters when he approached them. Lesser beasts were few in Bil’Faridh, but the distant songs of birds still reached him. It was still early. He opened the shutters and grimaced at the bright glow of the weak morning sun. Fresh air, untainted by the city’s industry at the moment, filled his lungs.
“Come in,” Mazin said before the knock came.
There was a hint of citrus about the newcomer. The doors parted and the prince turned to face her, immediately regretting his shirtless appearance.
“Prince Mazin,” Cyrea curtsied when she entered.
Mazin tensed and fumbled with his hands, folding his arms around himself, hoping his old pants provided some dignity.
“Cyrea,” his voice cracked. He pretended it was a cough. “I’m glad to… I didn’t expect you.”
Her puffy eyes sparkled, and her streaked brunette hair was organised into a messy bun atop her head. There was a hint of bronze on her skin. He caught her eyes linger on his chest, before lowering to her feet.
“Prince Mazin, Pharaoh Nadiyya wishes to know if she may send Master Khaliq for a fitting?”
“Yes, uh, yes of course,” it took him a moment she spoke of Ma’s favourite tailor. Dread followed soon after.
“Shall I fetch your bathwater and breakfast.”
“Yes, thank you, and uh, please ask for more oily meats if you can.”
“Of course, prince,” Cyrea curtsied again, departing with a smile. A solitary palace guard in black scale armour nodded at him before closing the doors.
Mazin groaned while he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Warm water soaked his sweat stained body. He left behind murky waters, dressed in plain, clean cloth before his oily breakfast. Mazin savoured it all, even the oats, with the soft apple and banana pieces and cinnamon. The chilly beer was ignored, more out of caution than a lack of desire. Chilled milk was more than satisfactory, despite the subtle sourness.
Master Khaliq arrived soon after, and prepared his workstation before his towering mirror. His workers carried wooden figures and heavy chests filled with an assortment of fabrics. A rainbow variety of colours. Grey ghosts arrived to clear his bath and breakfast. They laid new sheets and rushed out with the old. Cyrea was amongst them, focused on her duty this time.
Mazin fiddled with his black ironvine ring on his finger, shifting on his feet. Master Khaliq’s aides hefted partitions with onyx suns dancing on the wooden surfaces.
“I am ready for you, Prince Mazin,” Master Khaliq smiled after his helpers rushed out the doors.
A rotund man, who made any outlandish outfit work on himself and others, and they were always outlandish. Silks that appeared bland on their own were matched with others to form a vibrant picture. Bright and colourful fabrics were a challenge on their own, but not for Master Khaliq. He had never seen the man wear the same outfit more than once, and this morning was no exception.
Khaliq wore shimmering black silks with grey slashes blotching the intertwining fabric. His calf-length skirted sported the same design, with a half sun rising between his thighs. Bright gold stitching complimented the cloudy night aesthetic. Onyx bangles strangled his wide arms, and his shins with sparkling gold dust on each of them. Cloudy grey coloured his toes, matching his lacquered fingernails. The kohl around the man’s eyes was minimal, but effective at complimenting his dark, oiled beard. Shaped and square halfway down his neck. It made up for the lack of hair on his shining scalp.
Mazin stepped into the partitioned privacy and stared at the bland man, who was studying his reflection on the mirror. Master Khaliq closed the partition behind him, his flowery perfume calmed him. The tailor was a tall man, equally calm, eyes distant in thought.
It wasn’t unusual to wait for Master Khaliq’s mind, but the longer the plainly dressed, scruffy haired, red-eyed boy in the mirror stared at him, the more he squirmed. Mazin ruffled his curls and yawned, avoiding the ruby orb reflected at him.
“May I see your ring, prince?” Master Khaliq asked. Mazin obeyed and placed it in his hand. “Strange material this, hmm?”
“It’s ironvine.”
“Ah! Of course, marvellous, I have always wanted to see the famed work of ironvine.”
A buzz grew outside his room, leaking in from beyond his open shutters. Master Roole’s hammering was absent, as was much of the capital’s industry.
“May I look at your khopesh?”
“It’s over there,” Mazin pointed.
Master Khaliq returned with his hands behind his back studying the weapon.
“Marvellous, spectacular,” his tone belied the words. He returned with the blade, visibly struggling with its weight. His eyes were glued to it, and Mazin waited again.
“Did you start with my brother Master Khaliq?”
“The crowned prince didn’t require my services.”
Mazin sighed.
“Very well,” he returned the ironvine ring. “I am ready.”
The prince hid his relief. He straightened his shoulders and faced his reflection. His ruby eye glowed.
“Choose one,” Master Khaliq offered two squares of rich silks. Both were dark at first glance, but when tilted their colour shifted. One turned wine red, the other glittered with gold amongst the blackness.
“The red one, please,” Mazin said.
Master Khaliq muttered a complaint under his breath, correcting his simple answer. Mazin ignored it.
“Wait, a moment.”
Mazin stifled his groan. He then heard the approach of slippers, with chiming jewellery. Following a powerful aroma of roses and oil, Ma burst into his room and glowed like a sun.
She wore ochre gold silks held together by gold jewels. Lapis lazuli dotted her dress as well. A golden ankh hung around her neck, with a diamond in its centre. Her noticeably darker umber skin glittered with gold flakes, with a golden sun rising on her brow. Kohl extended her lashes and outlined her eyes. A gold circlet completed her lavish appearance, wrapping over her oiled curls hanging loosely from her head.
“Ma?” Mazin asked, confused.
“How is it?”
“Still waiting,” it took some effort to not sound accusatory. “Am I late?”
“Not at all, baby.”
Mazin didn’t bother to complain. Zaki was less forgiving with her affectionate pet names around others, but Ma remained stubborn. She rushed towards Master Khaliq’s desk and oohed once she got an eye on what the tailor prepared. It almost softened his impatience. The partition opened and Master Khaliq returned.
“Please remove your shit, prince.”
“I can dress myself, Master Khaliq.”
“Indeed, but this is a complicated assortment. I do not trust you to do it on your own, with all due respect.”
Ma watched from behind. He caught her reflection in the mirror, she beamed at him.
Master Khaliq draped his oiled torso with midnight black silks, in a similar fashion to what he wore. For every two that were black, he added a wine-red one. They were as heavy as sparring leathers by the time his interwoven silk vest was complete. Far from the tightest vest he had worn, a small victory, but snug enough to still notice. Mazin took the offered pair of onyx bangles with rubies staining the blackness and forced them onto his upper arms.
“I trust the skirt is manageable on your own?”
Mazin grunted and snatched it before closing the partition. It was midnight black and wine-red as well. The skirt ended before his knees and was free.
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“Wonderful!” Ma clapped when he emerged after donning black sandals.
Master Khaliq’s aides returned and cleared up his room.
“I hope it is to your liking, prince.” Master Khaliq bowed.
“It is, thank you.”
“Masterful as always, Khaliq,” Ma said.
They watched him depart, listening to his slippers echo and fade in the passageway after they shut his doors.
“There is one more thing, baby,” Ma said.
She nodded towards his mirror, then nudged him when he frowned.
The dark prince staring back at him was worth the title. His ruby eye glowed when he smiled, complimenting the wine-red slashes amongst the black. Mazin flexed his arms and enjoyed the tight bangles around his biceps.
“Not too tight?” Ma asked, clutching his sheathed khopesh.
“Perfect.”
She wrapped her arms around him, strapping his blade to his back. Ma rose to her toes, slapped his helping hands away, then pinched him when she finished.
“Farah’s friend is with her now.”
“How is he?”
“Better than she is,” Ma ceased her whispering and slapped his back. “I do not understand why you and Zaki tower over me. I’m sure your father doesn’t enjoy it as well.”
“We’re not that much taller Ma,” Mazin chuckled. “Am I doing the right thing?”
“Not here, baby, not now.”
Her fingers caressed an onyx jewel. She forced him to squat and draped his neck with the cool jewel. A black, jagged sun.”
“Perfect,” Ma pecked his cheek. “Come, Zaki awaits.”
Mazin fingered the sharp edges of the jewel, testing it with his thumb. The man staring back at him was someone else, someone important, a pharaoh in his own right.
A few strides behind Ma, who was clinking as she walked, Mazin did his best to keep his head up. Pride prodded him at times when the grand Sinha joined them through the passageways. He teased at first, then complimented until Mazin was forced to smile.
His hands were restless before him, fiddling with his ironvine ring. Palace guards ceased their patrolling and bowed low when they passed. Grey ghosts jumped aside with them to do the same, wide eyed at Ma, fearful of him.
There was a buzz within the brightly lit palace. The sun blazed through the grand windows, without the stifling humidity. His skin tingled, but Sanctuary’s gardens were still far away. Ma shuddered before squeaking. Her eyes fed him a knowing glance, she felt the same.
When the gardens neared, the tingling became a pull. One that Mazin couldn’t ignore. A grand crowed at the foot of the hundred steps, he guessed, buzzed before they reached the great hall. Their excitement rivalled the pull from the gardens, making him forget about his ring.
Prince Mazin entered the great hall and the buzz became a din. More palace guards bowed at them, their black and gold colouring the pristine, crystalline marble.
“Is it the elders?” Mazin asked.
“Maybe more.”
Her smile was mournful, staggering his rising euphoria. Ma wrapped her arm around his and warmed him. She dragged him the rest of the way towards the exit when the collective scent of anticipation from outside turned his legs into jelly.
His eyes struggled against the glare of the midday sun at first. A flash of golden white, then the overwhelming ocean of colours below. Cheers battered into him, along with a confusing assortment of scents. It ranged from fearful shock, to joyous awe. Mazin cursed his enhanced senses.
Ma nudged him, encouraging him down the steps without dragging him, arms still locked together. They arrived at the fiftieth and largest step, where Zaki stood in plain ochre cloth, with his own khopesh strapped to his back. His chest puffed out; his arms wrapped behind his back.
Kumkani Lihle posed in sunset cloth with golden beads. As with everything the kumkani wore, he exposed more of his lean, muscular dark umber skin. His ivory decorated billao weighed on his waist added to his legendary stature.
Inkosi Musa was present as well, dressed in drab brown, more fabric than the kumkani. That was his habit, the inkosi was disinterested in any kind of spectacle. Mazin never saw extravagance on and around the monarch the few times he saw him. He spent a lot of time in the archives below, swallowing the text. They hadn’t spoken beyond idle chatter, but the man struck him as hard, humourless. Yet he was the Cheetah who allied with the Lion, and the son of the Lion bonding demanded his presence.
Nau’Van stood beside Zaki. His silks were yellow gold, shimmering under the sunlight. Not his colours, Ma claimed he was, still was a dark Tamer. He rested on his ornate walking stick. Mazin would never call it a cane out loud. Ma always reminded him and Zaki to avoid any mention of the Nau’Van’s age. It was a staff, not a walking stick, the symbol of the Nau’Van of the Lion Clan’s Tamers Council.
Mazin’s mood dipped, Da was absent again. Ma squeezed his arm as if sensing what he noticed. She let him go and encouraged him towards Zaki. He glanced back at her, she insisted again, then the kumkani stood beside her.
“What are you wearing?” Zaki asked, his eyes fixed on the ocean of people gathered below.
They were kept at bay by a thick wall of black and gold capes. Mazin had never seen so many palace guards together, ringing around the hundred steps in their ornate armour. Masked and helmeted faces surveying, hands resting on weapons.
“I actually like this,” Mazin said.
Zaki scoffed.
The pull from the gardens within the palace softened again, despite the towering mountain of Sanctuary casting its shadow over them from behind the palace. Words filled Mazin’s throat as the swarm of eyes below jumped between him and Zaki, then they choked him into silence.
“I know. I watched them gather and it still…” Zaki’s voice fizzled.
“To have so many, surely it… surely it feels good?”
Zaki grunted.
Fearful shrieks and surprised yelps trickled from the rear of the gathered crowd as they parted. A pair of riders upon golden Sinha led three more Sinha. Zaki’s gasp matched his when they both noticed more grey than yellow gold on two of the following Sinha. Of course, they were the elders, but he also thought it was a title. Aged Felines were rare, only cubs were more elusive. The sun stirred their greying fur into sparkling silver, like stars in a clear night sky.
Everyone’s eyes were on the elders, and the Sinha between them. They fixed their golden eyes on Zaki, and his brother did the same. A hush stilled the excited curiosity of the crowd once the elders arrived at the open gates. The guiding Tamers remained while the elders and spare Sinha continued up the steps.
The Nau’Van stepped forward when the elders stood across from them. He motioned for Zaki to step forward, but his brother was frozen, eyes fixed on the youthful Sinha between the elders. Half a head shorter than Zaki on all fours, golden ochre furred and without a mane. Its limbs rippled with strength, with round golden eyes. Beneath them, an ugly and fresh gash ruined its nose. A line between its moist, pink nostrils and golden gaze. Mazin poked Zaki, and his brother cleared his throat before breaking free from his self-imposed prison.
“Welcome all!” Nau’Van began, stamping his staff to silence the silent. His voice belied his aged stature. “Today we stand witness to a special bonding. Here comes Prince Zaki Atum Ra!”
A polite cheer followed, though Zaki seemed far away from everything and everyone, but the Sinha across from him.
“The pact between Lion and Sinha demands another Tamer into the fold. His Essence has matured. Know that Lions will not break the pact today!”
Confusion followed Nau’Van’s words from the crowd. No doubt this was the first time for many. There wasn’t usually a crowd for a bonding, at least the few he managed to watch. They were never forced to attend by Ma, and she only observed the bonds of those descended from the founders. Tamers turned eighteen almost every day, it was unreasonable to expect her presence for all of them, or elder Sinha for that matter.
“The Sinha welcome the new cub.”
Mazin flinched when the combined voices of the elders invaded his mind. All but the Unblessed suffered it. Scattered groans and shill wailing sparked from the crowed. From those discovering the harshness of the Beast Tongue for the first time. These weren’t bond words, there was no bubble in the back of his mind. Their words forced their way through his ears as if they came from their lips.
“The Sinha will not break the pact today.”
Mazin admired the elders as their words seared through his mind. Sparkling grey, more than gold, from their paws to their heads. Did death come once all their gold vanished? Was it a peaceful slumber that eluded most Tamers and their Tamed?
One elder wore a glorious mane, pale grey tipped with silver, almost as tall as Pride on all fours.
“Who comes to be Tamed?” Nau’Van asked the elders.
“I have fought for the honour of this bond,” The golden Sinha stepped forward, passing the elders with their head high. “Who comes to tame?”
“I do,” Zaki was firm, without the nerves of before.
He stepped towards the youthful Sinha until their faces were a hand’s width away from each other.
“Name yourself.”
“Zaki Atum Ra.”
The Sinha shuddered for a blink, then Zaki twitched. Their eyes locked together.
“Name me.”
Zaki convulsed with a gasp. His neck craned up and he became a statue. There was the subtlest shift of his chest, but nothing else. A whispering breezed shifted his plain cloth, but even his dark curls became solid rock.
It was all familiar, the chilling silence, unmoving Tamer and Sinha during their journey to becoming one. The crowd buzzed when it lasted longer than it should, twisting into confusion. Nau’Van eyed the pair with a raised eyebrow. Concern trickled from Ma.
Mazin’s chest tightened. Onlookers muttered amongst themselves about the strangeness. He faced the elders, searching for answers, but they too were unmoved.
A whisper filled Mazin’s mind, stroking the back of his neck.
“Dawn.”
A sweet echo. He reached back for the gentle hand, despite knowing it was in vain. Dawn, that was Zaki’s Tamed. It was done.
Mazin turned back towards Ma when she sighed. She nodded to confirm his silent inquiry, with a quivering smile.
Zaki whimpered when he returned to life. His knees buckled, but his Tamed Sinha lowered to keep him upright. He fell and clung to her with the weakness of a child learning to walk. His breathing was hoarse, as if he clung to consciousness.
“The bond is made! Prince Zaki Atum Ra, Tamer of the Lion Clan!”
Nau’Van slammed his staff, but was soon drowned by the crowd.
Zaki clawed his way atop Dawn, fumbling as she lowered further. His back jolted upright and Dawn rose to her feet. He roared and drew his khopesh. The deathly fatigue plaguing him vanished. There was a glow around him, a pulsating warmth emanating from his ordinary cloth. His golden eye brightened and Dawn unleased a prideful roar herself.
The crowd oohed and whistled while Zaki turned atop Dawn. She sped up the hundred steps towards the palace, with Zaki swinging his khopesh, whooping with unbridled joy. It echoed within the great hall and took an age to fade from Mazin’s ears. There was no time to share in his brother’s elation, the combined golden gaze of the elders bore into his back.
Ma rushed to his side, with the kumkani. Inkosi Musa shared his congratulations, then turned to follow Zaki into the palace. He doubted the inkosi possessed enough of the Essence to hear the elders speak. His duty was at an end, the bonding was done.
Mazin allowed Ma to make him face the elders. The buzz dwindled from the crowd, as did their numbers. Their show ended when Zaki sped away, a few of them were slow to realise it.
Both Sinha elders were expressionless, but their gazed did feel like a glare to him.
“You are the other?” They asked as one, without gravitas.
“He is,” Nau’Van answered.
The Sinha elders studied him.
“When?”
“Best not to reveal such details,” Ma squeezed his shoulder after adding her own voice.
“The road north has become treacherous. We find more skinned cubs, and the wild ones have grown ruthless in retaliation. This war of yours has blinded you from your true enemies.”
Mazin trembled at their bubbling anger, all focused on Ma and the Nau’Van. The old man remained unmoved, but Ma’s fear filled his nose. The elders turned back towards him.
“Our dark peers are eager to welcome a new child, especially one with your strength. The Order will stand before both of you again.”
Ma’s nails dug into his shoulder.
The elders bowed their glorious heads. A pair of palace guards joined them, both in scale armour of vibrant gold, with roaring Sinha in the centre of their script strengthened pieces. They departed together into the palace.
“Do not wait for me pharaoh, I will come later to confirm your plans,” Nau’Van said.
Ma’s hand softened. Those words were strange, unaided by Ma’s fear. It wasn’t a secret that he needed to travel north for his bonding, but the suggestion of the Order of the Nine Lives left a bitter taste on his tongue. He was excited to leave Bil’Faridh, with Zaki at his side hopefully, now his stomach lurched. The elders’ anger towards Ma and Nau’Van perturbed him.
“Come Mazin,” Ma wrapped her arm around him. “It is time to make your departure a reality.”
“A moment, if you don’t mind Nadiyya,” Kumkani Lihle said. “May I steal Mazin?”
“I thought you said…”
“This isn’t training, I only want to share a private word or two.”
She considered him, then smiled after a pregnant pause.
“I expect a short wait in the war room.”
Ma pinched his cheek then returned to the palace.
Mazin watched the loiterers scurry away from the palace gates. Most of the palace guards returned to the palace, leaving a pair behind at the now closed gates, and at the palace’s entrance.
“You were these silks well,” the kumkani said, motioning for him to follow.
Mazin grunted.
“You are being strange.”
“Strange? I’m always quiet.”
“That is not what I meant. You are leaving, what happened to your wanderlust Mazin?”
“It’s still there, I… it’s just, now that I’m here, well.”
“Nerves are natural.”
Mazin grunted, the bitterness returned. It wasn’t nerves, nor fear, but he couldn’t place it.
“Perhaps if you,”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” Mazin snapped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
They paused before the palace. The guards remained statuesque, but no one feared their ears. His stomach churned while his eyes searched the kumkani’s face for signs of hurt.
“It’s my fault for prodding. There is no need to apologise.”
They entered the great hall. The growing heat gave way to crystalline coolness. Birds chirped from their high nests, but his sandals echoed louder, hollowing his chest with every step.
“I want it to be done.” Mazin said. “A quick bond and swift return.”
“Who told you it won’t?”
“It’s just a feeling.”
“You are a Tamer, there is nothing wrong with feeling.”
Mazin stopped and frowned at the kumkani. The seven thrones were far away, the war room was on another continent.
“What does that mean?”
“What does it mean to you?”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times.
“Are you suggesting Tamers suppress their emotions?”
“You ask as if it is far-fetched. Our senses and strength are beyond the Unblessed, why wouldn’t our emotions be the same as well?”
Mazin scrunched his face.
“Much like our strength and sometimes our senses, we learn to control them. Though I fear we overcorrect our emotions. I uh… What I mean is, these are your feelings. Heed them, or don’t, the choice is yours. But don’t punish yourself for feeling.”
He wasn’t less confused.
“I wasn’t punishing,”
“This isn’t an accusation, boy,” the kumkani chuckled. “Beast, forgive me. I feel I am overstepping. My words are whatever you need them to be. Hurry along now, I don’t want your mother’s anger hanging over me.”
“I should probably mention this, for Zaki’s sake. My mother is married.”
“Only for Zaki’s sake? You aren’t bothered?”
Mazin shrugged. The kumkani was always there whenever Da wasn’t. Three years now, his kindness wasn’t expected of him, but he appreciated it.
“I promise you; your mother is the first to remind me of her marriage. It isn’t often, I’m sure Zaki would appreciate that. Your father is the last person I wish to offend.”
Mazin nodded after allowing the words to settle. Scentless, which was better than deceit. He grinned at Kumkani Lihle and made his way to the war room.