Her dry quill danced along her fingers while she rested on her free fist. An empty parchment sat in wait for her ink, but her mind drifted. Kamaria and Galel were her first issue. After sorting out Zaki and the shock he gave her. Her skin was still tender after suffering his heat, then his excruciating chill right after. Nadiyya shuddered at her memory of it.
The master Tamers were too eager for her liking, which surprised her. Not their eagerness to snatch Mazin, but her own apathy towards his sudden departure. She ached while planning his departure for Bana’Parvat, yet now that he was gone, nothing. Beyond the initial shock, of course.
“Feeling careless, are you?” Pride asked.
She stilled her dancing quill and turned around from her desk towards the lounging mass of Sinha laziness. The setting sun set his golden fur ablaze while he slumbered.
“I find it off-putting; he is my baby after all.”
“No more.”
“Silence from you, beast” Nadiyya snapped with a hint of humour. Pride snorted and she turned away.
Galel and Kamaria were receptive, strangely excited by the slight change to their duty. Watch and guide, remain unseen, a suitable challenge. Mazin was an attentive one, even for a Tamer. As long as they kept their distance, their presence would remain unnoticed.
The pharaoh sighed and rose from her seat, tossing aside the unused quill pen as she glided towards the wine. Pride grunted his disapproval when she clasped the cool decanter. She enjoyed the brisk gust whispering into her room. Night’s chill rushed in to take hold after the sunset.
It was a joy to have the southern humidity washed away. Winter was not her favourite season at all, but anything ranked higher than humidity. Snow didn’t fall this far south, thankfully, apparently the Great Beast thought rain alone wasn’t enough. Snow, what an awful thing.
Nadiyya raised the decanter, Pride renewed his disapproval.
“Enough,” Nadiyya’s head snapped to the doors before she said more through their bond. Unease filled the air, seeping through her closed doors. A stranger hesitated outside, after sending away the guard long ago, she was alert.
“Name yourself.”
The stranger shuffled a few times, scurrying away, then returned before deciding on leaving again.
Nadiyya rushed to her doors and swung them open. The stranger sprinted around the corner. A tall soldier, their bronze scale glimmered under the torchlight before vanishing behind grey stone.
She frowned at Pride and shut the door behind her.
“Strange.”
“An assassin?”
Nadiyya guffawed aloud at the suggestion, but that ended when another scent trickled in. Slippers scurried closer, along with a hint of citrus, as if they bathed in oranges. She opened the door and waited for the newcomer.
“Cyrea!” Nadiyya didn’t intend for her surprise to spill out, but the girl didn’t notice. She curtsied and straightened her grey dress while smiling at her slippers.
“Pharaoh, forgive my interruption, but a soldier gave me a note for your eyes.”
Nadiyya watched Cyrea remain obedient with her low head while she took the note.
“Something on your mind?”
“I was hoping… I wanted to know if Prince Mazin is all right. The word around the palace is…”
“He is fine, child, just away. He will return soon.”
Cyrea’s head rose with a beaming smile on her lips, then her sun kissed cheeks reddened. She curtsied again and rushed away, but Nadiyya’s attention fell onto the wrinkled paper in her hand. Pride rose from his lazy lounging and stretched. She flicked it open and found two words, scribbled in a rush.
We’re safe
The Sinha towered over her, sensing her intentions. She snatched the closest cloak and darted out.
Her room was a taste of winter, but it overran the grey stone passageways. She wrapped herself with her thin cloak, striding past murals and tapestries of old Atum Ras and their Tamed Sinha. Nadiyya rubbed her hands together as she sped by the rest of the famous Lions.
Sanctuary’s gardens failed to soften the chill, at least on the outside. Nadiyya overheard more than a few people attempting to keep each other warm within the ethereal spaces. Their amorous lovemaking filled her ears. The gardens had a way of maintaining a barrier against prying eyes. A wall of beauty in the form of colourful plants and flowers, evergreen grass and leaves. Not even her Tamer eyes penetrated it, but the eternal magnificence was more than enough to enjoy.
The crystalline great hall was as brisk as she feared. She forced her bare hands into the deep pockets of her cloak. Pride shared his mockery as he always did whenever winter arrived.
Her journey towards the war room was an unending one. Circling around the raised seven thrones delayed the inevitable. Once the palace guard opened the door, warmth washed away her rising shivers.
Nadiyya sighed when the door shut behind Pride. The cramped war room was a pocket of warmth. An embrace of heat that didn’t stifle the trickling fresh air flowing in. It was bright as well, with every lantern and candle ablaze, adding fiery orange to the fading colours dominating the walls. There was a hint of roast meat around, fading fast, along with hints of beer.
Supper would be eaten alone again.
Gawahir sat hunched over his ornate desk, scribbling away, surrounded by piles of paper. He paid no mind to her arrival. His brow remained furrowed. He didn’t budge when she filled a glass with sweet wine. Nadiyya sipped when she sauntered towards him, savouring the bitterness beneath the sweetness.
“Orders for Sobek?” Nadiyya asked, reading his upside-down words. “Have the scouts reported back already?”
“A precaution, An’Shar would be the emperor’s next target, even if he isn’t sound of mind.”
“His generals would guide him, if the rumours of his madness are true.”
“Obviously they’re true!”
Gawahir left his pen to drown in the inkwell. He leant back and massaged the bridge of his nose. The man was greyer than normal, fatigued, bogged down.
“Has Daeron left for Sinh’Chattaan?”
“Half of his forces, he stays here until necessary.”
“Why?”
“Why? We need his numbers.”
Nadiyya feared losing his interest. She fought the urge to rise to his provocations, purposeful or not, lest she risk being in the dark.
“With the inkosi and kumkani already here, are we not wasting their potential aid?” She asked.
“Imagine the panic that would spread throughout the districts if they departed? No, we need a calm city.”
Nadiyya stopped herself and busied her lips with the wine. Gawahir wasn’t dismissive yet. He scratched his salty stubble and lifted his dark eyes at her. Life sparkled within them, a sight she hadn’t seen for too long.
“Is Zaki all right? I heard he suffered some trouble.”
“Nothing to worry about, my love. That man is growing.”
“Growing?” Gawahir’s eyebrow surged up. Colour seeped back into this face when he smiled. “Tamer business?”
“Tamer business, oh I love the way you say it. I recall many occasions when my Tamer business excited you,” Nadiyya dragged his chair aside and floated onto his lap.
“That was poor,” Gawahir chuckled, his hand caressing her bottom. Nadiyya forced Pride’s judgement away and caressed Gawahir’s chest, digging beneath his silks to enjoy his hair. There was a time when there was strength to enjoy, but now his skin was too close to his bones for her liking. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been.”
“No, no, no, my love, the crown weighs heavy. I wish you would allow me to share the load.”
Gawahir grunted, shrivelling back into his usual shell. She rested her head on his shoulder and willed him to open. His scent of ink and anxiousness overpowered her nose. Nadiyya hummed away the silence lingering after her words.
“I will, once you bring out your khopesh again,” Gawahir pinched her bottom.
“I’ve started, or is that not good enough for you?”
“Not good enough.”
His other hand caressed the inside of her thigh, sliding under her plain dress and cloak. She wanted more, but stifled her moan.
“We shall call it a warmup, then?”
Nadiyya couldn’t hold herself back any longer. She forced off his silk vest, and unravelled his skirt. He nibbled on her neck when she spat on her fingers and stroked him hard. It was warm in her hand, and guiding him inside her sent shivers up her body. They moaned together when she started slow, up and down while he became enamoured by her breasts. The chair creaked, then cracked when he matched her vigour.
Gawahir dumped her on the table before the chair gave in. She wrapped her legs around his waist and guided him through his finishing strokes. Nadiyya looked up at her sweaty husband and felt her heart flutter when he smiled back down at her.
Nadiyya’s eyes burst open to serenity. A sunrise over the picturesque Dhaar, light gold upon lush green. Darkwoods towered together in tight-knit groves, with their sharp points poking the pale blue sky. Their leaves were so dark they seemed black in the distance. The odd ghost tree caught her eye, standing alone and far shorter than the darkwoods. Snow white leaves flowed to the will of the gentle breeze like silk streamers decorating a hall. Birds sang their music to the Great Beast for another day. She inhaled the fresh air, filling her lungs with its sharpness.
Nadiyya blinked, and death, chaos and cries exploded into her. Blood and sweat tainted the serenity of the peace now long forgotten. The endless death cries and wounded wailing filled her with a yearning for an end. She caressed her head, then flinched at the thin cut over her left brow. Her battered golden scale armour clawed at her flesh, ruined by mud and blood, but still sturdy. Script strengthened armour was difficult to pierce, even for Tamers bearing script marked blades.
She realised she sat against a dead tree, not admiring the perfect sunrise. Her arms were mush at her sides; legs became jelly. Sleep dragged down her eyelids. No matter how much she fought, they fell shut.
Nadiyya blinked and stood beside Pride, soiled by fear, but not her own. She turned to her Tamed, who growled into the distance. There was nothing she saw beyond bloodstained grass to warrant such a reaction from her bloody Sinha.
“What is it?” Nadiyya sent to him. The words were distant, as if she listened in on them rather than speaking through her bond.
No!
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Pride’s growling faded as soon as she noticed it.
“A summoning.”
“What?”
“Come girl!”
Nadiyya jumped at his rage. It echoed in her mind as she scurried to mount him. Her Tamed lowered his torso, and she massaged the stained hilt of her khopesh on her waist.
Wake up!
He sped off into the distance, towards what she still couldn’t see. Yet with every blink of her eyes, a darkwood grove appeared from nothing ahead. Pride skid to a halt before the wall of darkwoods towering before them. The aftermath of battle was long forgotten, as well as her fatigue.
Please!
Her eyes searched the tree line. There was nothing but darkness beyond the first two rows. She blinked again, then a path opened before Pride. A pair of red and gold eyes beckoned from within, at the end of the strange pathway. Every step Pride took towards the eyes, a deep and all-encompassing breath came over her. Calm, as if she entered the jaws of a continent sized slumbering Feline.
“Fortune favours you!”
Pharaoh Nadiyya gasped awake, staring at a side table to her right. An arm wrapped around her bare torso, fingers enjoying the closest breast to it. She was still, but Gawahir moaned behind her. His warmth beat away the subtle chill hovering in their room. She kissed his ink-stained fingers and inhaled his odour. Though his presence failed to keep her mind away from the dream. There was no fighting it anymore. Its obstinacy was difficult to ignore, and she wasn’t sure if she could fight it if it came again.
There wasn’t a reason in her mind for why she kept fighting, but her heart never failed to. It was beyond habit now, instinct perhaps.
“Do not bother,” Nadiyya expected Pride’s coming suggestion.
These recurring memories, no, dreams, memories were dangerous. These recurring dreams were a sign to him, a sign for what, he wouldn’t say. Typical, yet he remained annoyed whenever she ignored his so-called guidance.
“You are a child,” Pride grumbled in reply.
She couldn’t tell if his irritation was because of her thoughts, that he slept in the passage outside the room, or the judgement from the night before in the war room. Nadiyya didn’t care. She squirmed around and buried her face into Gawahir’s chest, wrapping a leg over one of his own, earning another sleepy moan from him.
A hint of what life was like before whatever this was that came over him. She refused to let go after earning this. It wasn’t enough, it didn’t satisfy her, she would bring the Gawahir she loved back.
“You drained me,” he muttered.
“Shh my love, you should recover, or you won’t survive me draining you again.”
He grunted and obeyed. A foolish smirk persisted on his lips.
They awoke together with the weak sun trying to warm the stones in their room. Servants arrived before the chance for more draining. Nadiyya caught their surprise at Gawahir’s presence. She watched him stroll around their room when they left, reacquainting himself with it, caressing the ornate furniture. He scratched Pride’s ear before standing on the balcony with a cup of water in hand.
There was a lightness about him. His back was straighter, colour returned to his greying skin. He smiled! Nadiyya struggled to temper her expectations.
A grand breakfast arrived, an assortment of fresh loaves, raisin bread, honeyed oats and sizzling bacon. Bowls of fruit glistened with perspiration, pungent cheese, and chilled milk.
“This seems a bit much,” Gawahir muttered after the servants departed.
Nadiyya snorted after sitting beside him. He pawed at the food, his attention drifted, but whenever it did return, it focused on her.
“Did those two manage to escape the city?” Gawahir asked.
“They did.”
“That’s good.”
Nadiyya was glad it ended there. That Farah was beyond frightened that a pharaoh aided in her departure, she wondered what hunted the girl and her friend.
Gawahir fell silent again, poking at his food, occasionally nibbling on scraps. Nadiyya watched him, forgetting about her own plate after a few bites.
“What awaits you today?”
“Wait for more news from the scouts, hope the emperor isn’t on the move. Other than that,” Gawahir shrugged. Nadiyya glanced down at her food again, feeling his gaze. “I seem to recall you have some training to get to?”
“General Nadiyya has faded over the years. I fear the work necessary to revive her.”
“Perhaps I could join you, if you wouldn’t mind having me?”
“Oh Gawahir, you don’t need to ask.”
She pecked his cheek.
They strode together, arms intertwined, Nadiyya’s heart giddy. She was a smitten girl once more, cheeks tingling. Beast, half a century and she behaved as if she had never loved before. As if Nau’Van Garam had just plucked her from the lion district again. Almost as grand as catching young Prince Gawahir’s eye for the first time, during his first visit to Bil’Faridh beside Pharaoh Heydar Atum Ra.
Servants bowed when they passed, already beginning their gossip. Positive rumours this time, she hoped. Gossip danced to its own tune in the palace, anyone who tried to force it into their own rhythm often suffered awful consequences. Whatever the outcome, she wouldn’t allow it to spoil her happiness. The surprising weight of her khopesh was almost forgotten because of it.
There was little she could do to ease Gawahir’s discomfort. She fingered the fresh leather wrapping the hilt of her khopesh. His tenseness eased once the glaring eyes of old Atum Ras were behind them. Gawahir’s steps widened, and his chest rose.
Her fingers drifted to her long braid. It seemed a dark thought, but her hair became cumbersome. But cutting it and returning to her neck length curls meant shedding off eighteen years. It meant admitting Mazin and Zaki were no longer her babies.
“Nadiyya, is everything all right?”
“Yes, sorry, was I drifting?”
“Your grip on me loosened,” he smirked.
The weak sunlight glittered his pale umber face. He improved with every moment he spent away from the war room.
“Is something troubling you?”
Gawahir, when not distant from her, possessed an uncanny ability of reading her emotions almost as well as Pride knew them.
“Yes, but you ask with admirable concern and I worry how you will react to its insignificance.”
“If it troubles you, it is far from insignificant.”
“It’s my hair Gawahir,” she rushed.
“Your hair?”
“I warned you.”
“Now, now,” Gawahir laughed. “Let me finish. You know better than most that hair is of great value to me. There is little I wouldn’t give to have my hair return.”
He caressed his bald pate with humorous yearning.
“You dread shortening yours, don’t you?”
“Mmh.”
“You once told me that long hair was a liability in battle. I refuse to lose you to something so foolish.” Nadiyya grunted, enjoying his voice. “Is it because of the boys?”
Uncanny ability. Pride snorted through their bond, while he followed them like an enormous golden shadow.
“It might.”
“You won’t stop being their mother if you become a general again, nor will they think that. As much as it might pain you to hear, they do not need you as much anymore.”
It pained her, but not his words, rather how he spoke them. Not disingenuous or empty, but sincere. She thought back to his coldness to Mazin in the war room, his anger at Zaki. His absence during the evening of their eighteenth year, him not showing for Zaki’s induction. This concern left a bitter taste after the sweetness passed. He was the father they needed when they weren’t around to see it.
Nadiyya should have pressed him, question him, demanded more, but that risk the progress she made already.
When the time is right, she told herself.
Pride wasn’t impressed.
“I know,” she said.
They glided through the crystalline great hall. Gawahir glanced at the war room behind the raised seven thrones a few times, but he didn’t break his pace. She sighed with relief.
The winter sun was devoid of warmth. Its glow strengthened only to colour the world with paler yellow. Most trees shed their brown clothing, letting the dry leaves drift in the wind. There was a nip in the air that made her grateful for the cloak she wore, over the already thickened wool shirt and pants. Even Gawahir, who was reluctant to deviate from his usual vests and skirts, dressed appropriately. Both of them were plain, however, far below what their titles demanded.
Nadiyya glanced at Gawahir when they arrived at the fighting rings. They paused, and she watched him gaze upon the Tamers kicking up dust while they sparred. Their blunted blades thudded and crashed, with the occasional clang of script strengthened steel sung.
“We should find empty rings closer to the barracks,” Nadiyya said.
She led him, this time with his arms wrapped behind his back. He eyed the rings like a pharaoh, head high and eyes watching over his subjects.
Sweat, blood and dry soil filled her nose. The Tamers paused their sparring, many in the midst of attacking swings, to bow at their passing. They spoke their respect proudly, and Gawahir nodded at them with a raised hand. Nadiyya followed his lead now, remaining a step behind. Tamed Sinha lounged in the shade, beneath bare trees upon the stone benches. Their golden eyes blinked at them before they resumed their slumbering, burying their faces beneath enormous paws.
The smaller rings closer to the barracks, where the Unblessed usually trained in formations, were quiet. Secluded from the Tamers behind, at least to her own ears. Their clashing, grunting and shouting became one noise here. There as little chance of eavesdropping Tamers. Should she embarrass herself, only Gawahir would be privy to it.
Pride lounged beneath the awning of a shed, where blunted blades and sparring leathers hung. Gawahir’s eyes lingered on the barracks while she loosened her limbs.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, before she drew her khopesh.
“Yes?”
“Should we call reinforcements from the Leopards and Cheetahs, we should send a Lion to lead them.”
“Lead them? I’m not too sure the inkosi and kumkani will appreciate that.”
“Ill-chosen words, a Lion should be amongst them.”
“I see.”
“I think it should be Zaki.”
Nadiyya fought her immediate apprehension. Gawahir’s attention was fixed on her.
“Bold.”
“It’s a matter of time until he leads our armies. Better he learns now.”
“You speak as if you’ve decided already?”
“Master Roole already has plans for his armour,” Gawahir smiled.
“What of Mazin?”
“We wait and hope. There is nothing to be done. Hopefully the boy has enough sense to wait in Bana’Parvat until the trouble passes. It would save us some worry.”
Gawahir’s tone brought bitterness to her tongue. As if Mazin’s presence in Bil’Faridh was a disadvantage, a liability. It wouldn’t surprise her if he feared what Mazin atop his Tamed dark Sinha, with its stygian black fur and blood-red eyes, would do to the prejudiced masses here.
No, Nadiyya fought the assumption. She kept her face calm.
A stranger approached from behind. Nadiyya strangled the hilt of her khopesh. She turned to the Tamer, who was followed by a scarred Tamed Sinha. The man was brawny, with a sharp jaw. He stood a head taller than his Tamed, and his eyes fought between hazel and green.
“Pharaoh Gawahir Atum Ra,” he began with a bow. “Pharaoh Nadiyya Aten, my apologies for interrupting.”
“Be welcome,” Gawahir said.
“I am Doo’Sara Jahid Geb.”
She picked up a hint of sweet clay from him. A dual wielder as well, blacksteel sickles hung from his waist. Double edged, with jagged inner curves, while the outer edges were smooth and sparkling.
“The presence of Tamer’s Council member honours us,” Nadiyya said. “What business do you have with us?”
“I was hoping to aid you on your return to the general you once were.”
“I hadn’t planned on washing away my years of rust on a dual wielder.”
“No, not at all Pharaoh, not myself, unless you wished it? If it pleases you, I have Tamers who are eager to remind your limbs of their strength.”
“Bring them, I didn’t plan on sparring with the wind either.”
“As you wish Pharaoh.”
The brawny Geb bowed again and rushed way.
Nadiyya turned towards Gawahir, whose eyebrow rose during their conversation.
“When will you tell Zaki?”
“I hoped you would, when the time is right.”
She nodded, biting her urge to snap at him. So much for privacy, at least now she had an outlet for her sudden frustration.