Inescapable darkness, hammering oppression that was unrelenting upon him. Prince Zaki grovelled on his stomach. This darkness felt familiar, yet he was also sure this was the first time. It mattered little, for this place disrespected him. Zaki’s arms trembled with effort. His nails dug into the nothingness below with every snatching handful. The unrelenting barrage on his back didn’t yield, but he refused to give in.

The prince cursed the darkness. His cheeks tingled; his jaw tightened. Glued together as his entire being fought the torture. He craned his neck up and saw nothing anywhere, then sighed. It was senseless to continue moving nowhere.

Zaki groaned while lifting himself off his stomach. He ignored the searing fire surging from his shoulders to his palms. His thighs shared the load of the unseen hammering, now on his knees.

I will not kneel!

His right leg was up, and he paused again, pushing back the oppressive pressure. While it focused its attacks on his shoulders and neck. Zaki roared when he rose to his feet. Rage kept his knees from buckling. He was hunched over with bent legs, but the prince was patient. Another growl escaped him, stumbling forward until he was upright. The oppressive weight softened to a tingle.

Zaki spun around, looking for something, anything. Whispers swarmed all around. Incoherent and random, yanking his ears in every direction, hoping for answers. His struggles were soon forgotten. The prince walked ahead, to the side, backwards, there was no knowing. They guided him, his ears replacing his eyes. When the whispers faded, he turned until they boomed.

A silhouetted figure formed in the nothingness. Zaki caught it in the periphery and rushed towards it, oblivious to the whispers becoming a low grumble. The figure knelt in front of another, unseen by him. There was a pull beckoning him towards the kneeling figure.

Another step closer and the grumbling ended. A flash of colour sharpened, and Zaki flinched. He opened his eyes and the kneeling figure vanished. Only a pair of red eyes remained over him. The whispers returned and the barrage returned. He dropped to a knee and a fiery rage burned in his chest. It didn’t take long for his head to rise again. Zaki glared at the red eyes and a bubble formed in his mind.

“You have strength.”

Zaki braced for the harsh language to explode in his mind, instead he heard it through his ears. His struggle was forgotten and he rose to his feet, frowning at the towering beast.

“But this is not for you.”

Wait!

His thought never escaped him. The pair of red orbs blinked and vanished. Zaki readied himself to unleash a barrage, but his fine hairs stood up. He shielded himself with crossed arms over his chest, though nothing came. The ground vanished instead, and Prince Zaki fell.

Zaki yelped when he awoke, clutching his torn blankets with rough fingers. Drenched in sweat, breathing as if he fought the kumkani on his own. Bile burned up his throat with sour bitterness. He shoved the vileness back down with a shudder.

Darkness again, torturous and tormenting. Zaki was sure it wasn’t the first time. The beast speaking to him was however, though it was a strange comfort. His anger still simmered all the same.

He jumped out of bed, smacked his dry lips and stomped to his closed windows. Master Roole’s hammering was faint to his ears in the early morning humidity. The golden glow coupled with the heat to dry his body. Zaki filled his lungs with fresh air, before the waking Bil’Faridh populace tainted it with industry.

The sun burned away the darkness from his mind, and when his bathwater came, he soaked away his anger in the cool water. His nightmare seeped from his loosening muscles. The dismissive words of the dark beast faded, turning the water murky with his sweat.

Prince Zaki stood before his mirror, adjusting the gold flaked silks. It draped his limbs, a far cry from the usual tight fitting robes Ma forced on him. Now his body breathed freely, without having to wheeze through a constricted chest. He fingered the overgrown yellow topaz pommel of his khopesh peaking over his shoulder. A small sun on his fingertips.

Zaki nibbled his breakfast, disinterest in the salted oats. Now congealed in the bowl before he finished his bread. His distracted tongue tasted staleness in the bread. The abundance of oil in the fried pork churned his stomach, even the grilled mushrooms were bitter. He picked at the food, then drank his diluted beer in a hurry. Denying his impatience to ruin more, he surged to his feet and stomped out of his room.

Striding through endless passageways, ignoring the servants and palace guards showing their respect. His fingers fondled the golden ironvine ring while his eyes drifted beyond his surroundings. Jazmin wasn’t a noble of interest, yet why did his stomach churn? A mother herself, to two children, if the rumours were true. Not a worthy spouse for an heir, yet anxiety ran through him.

It was duty, Zaki decided. The duty Da did well to deny him, since he was told he was older than Mazin. Bil’Faridh would never be the seat of Lions, but they were here now, and ruling the city fell upon them. Locked in the war room for hours, Da fussed over a dormant civil war instead of ruling. What better practise was there for a crowned prince than this murder?

Dim stairwells replaced the tingling gardens of Sanctuary and the sunlit grey stone interior of the palace. He descended deep into the bowels of the palace, where ink stained and pale archivists dwelled. Wasting away hovered over tomes, reading about the deeds of better people. Zaki reminded himself to mask his contempt.

The underground dimness relented to colourful crystal light within the archives. Bright enough for the many desks filled with readers. Zaki filled his lungs with the fresh air flowing into the underground courtyard. The constant humming tickled his ears like an annoying insect, though everyone else seemed immune to it.

His presence proved a greater distraction. Whispers of the golden prince spread amongst the erudite. Some yellow dressed readers stole glances at him. Most kept their heads down, oozing a whiff of shared fear irritated his nose. Zaki suppressed his smirk.

A sprinkling of familiar faces brightened at him, waiting for his attention before showing respect, even at a distance. Nobles, low in the order of importance however, for their names didn’t enter his mind. Still, he nodded at them.

A tall, dark ivory skinned woman, in parchment-coloured robes with onyx beads, shuffled towards him. Before he arrived at the busy ivory doors, where burly black chained brutes eyed and documented the comings and goings. She adjusted her black-rimmed eyeglass resting on her petite nose, then smiled at him.

“Prince Zaki Atum Ra,” she curtsied, smelling of sweet clay and hair oil. Dried ink, aged parchment and stale food dominated much of the archive’s scent, which was what he expected from her. Yet she was a cut above the rest. “Your presence brightens our dreary hole.”

“Am I expected?”

“No, at least, not that I know of, Prince,” she kept her gaze low, made easier by her being a head shorter. Zaki thought her to be from one of the Cituva clans but her skin was closer to his own. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I’m looking for someone, Jazmin Isis, do you know where she might be?”

“Unfortunately, Prince, she is rarely down here. Perhaps I could…”

The archivist’s voice faded when she noted his eyes went away. Zaki watched a crone, hunched over by many years, in robes of black and gold, shuffle towards him. Her colours reminded him of the palace guard capes, but with none of the grandeur. The archivist mumbled her shock at the Mother of Knowledge’s appearance, then stepped aside.

“Mother,” Zaki greeted. The archivist bowed lower than she did for him.

“Prince Zaki,” she turned her centuries old head towards the now trembling archivist. “You may go now Nandi.”

Nandi curtsied again before scurrying away. The Mother’s milky gaze fell upon him, he sensed stern words would follow.

“When it rains, it pours. One prince follows another and pulls my children’s attention away from their duty.”

“Mazin was here?”

“Not as recently as you assume.”

The Mother’s lips twitched. Ma always insisted she die before her time, rather than decay. Looking at the Mother now, he didn’t blame her.

“What business does the crowned prince have in such a dreary hole? Will you lift one of my children and keep an academic pharaoh at your side? Beast knows I have suffered enough immature ramblings about that nonsense since Prince Mazin napped here.”

“I wouldn’t want to rob you of a child.”

“I have far too many.”

Zaki dared a smile.

“I’m actually looking for one of them, Jazmin Isis.”

“Have you no hounds for such a menial task?”

“I trust my nose better. Besides, it would be a waste of my youth to spend it sitting and waiting while I’m still able to act.”

The Mother’s lips twitched.

“Lady Isis is never here, but she sends her work down. I’m sure I’ll be able to send word to her, if that is sufficient?”

“Spare yourself, I will find her myself.”

“Your hounds might have spared you from this needless journey,” the Mother bowed. “Please come again, Prince Zaki, I’m sure there is knowledge and wisdom here that a future pharaoh could find useful.”

Her milky gaze unsettled him, lingering for longer than he liked. Sincere words to Zaki’s nose and ears, insistent perhaps, as well as something more. She turned around and floated away, leaving him frozen for a moment.

Prince Zaki marched through the passageways of the palace, fighting a scowl. Grey ghosts avoided him this time, palace guards patrolled without a glance. In the passages where the artistry of Lions dominated, a floor below his own quarters. The prince wandered through unfamiliar territory, despite the hieroglyphs and tapestries of Sinha.

He passed Geb and Shu, then came Osiris to still him. Mazin entered his mind, and he half hoped to bump into him, unfortunately it was quiet and scentless. His ironvine ring kept his fingers busy as he came upon the tyet of Isis. Stitched into the grand tapestry depicting someone of worth from the family, or Isis itself.

A pair of golden Tamed Sinha lay before grand double doors halfway down the passageway. Mane-less and lean, compared to Pride at least, who was monstrous even by Sinha standards. Other than the two beasts, it was empty, but their combined golden glare bore into him. He stopped in his tracks once again, not before raised voices exploded from behind the Sinha guarded doors.

“I’m tired of this Yasin, I am tired of suffering under your,”

“Enough! Don’t bore me with your ideals, or this will go to Da and—”

Zaki took another step closer and the arguing Tamers stopped. He continued forward and their whispering became incoherent. The Tamed Sinha lounging at the doors snatched his attention again when they rose together.

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“Prince,” their voices invaded in unison. They nodded their heads and he wondered which one was Jazmin’s.

“Sinha, I hope you will not keep me from your Tamers?”

“Of course not.”

The ornate doors swung open to reveal a wondrous pair. One draped in silks richer than anything Zaki would wear. Gold and bronze, yet in a rather unLion fashion.

“Prince Zaki, what a pleasant surprise,” the lavishly dressed man bowed. His scorched umber skin glistened with perfumed oils. His golden silks hung off his muscular torso, reminding him of the kumkani.

“Prince,” Jazmin showed more respect than expected, even a low curtsy. He caught a whiff of annoyance, but he wasn’t sure who she directed it at. She dressed in bland cloth with discoloured stains blotching it. Her slender arms sported polished iron bangles, matching the iron rings on her toes.

“Have I interrupted something?” Zaki asked.

“Not at all, my sister was just leaving.”

Yasin’s smile was perfect. There was little he shared with his sister, other than his own boggling beauty. Zaki couldn’t decide if it was greater than his perfect sister. From his dark oiled, coiled curls and earthen green eyes. His chiselled faced matched his study build, and the man was half a head taller than him. The prince forgot himself.

“Wonderful, I was hoping to borrow Jazmin.”

“Be my guest,” Yasin bowed and departed, caressing his Tamed as they strode away.

Prince Zaki turned to face her, and she was ready to throttle him.

“Problem?”

Jazmin inhaled, but spoke nothing. She bit her lip, clenched her fists and trembled until her shoulders sagged. Zaki didn’t need her scent to know what she fought.

“This better be important, I have a child waiting for me.”

“I don’t mind walking.”

Jazmin grunted and he followed her rushed strides. Her Tamed padded along quietly behind them. The beasts golden gaze bore into his back during the initial silent strides. She was just like the night of their first meeting, but he didn’t forget her earlier anger.

“How is little Ayla?” Zaki asked.

“I’m not your fucking product, do you hear me? Don’t speak of me as if I am someone to be bought, especially to my brother.”

Zaki was too shocked to be offended, nor evade her snatching of his wrist. Warmth emanated from her palm, but she quickly let him go after a swift glance at her Tamed.

“Forgive my anger, prince, I am having quite the day. If you still wish to follow me, I’ll try my best not to repeat this.”

They departed the Lion section of the palace while Zaki remained at a loss. Jazmin said nothing and he kept to himself. Whispers sprung from the lips of ghosts and lesser nobles passing them. Soon rumours of Jazmin’s powers of seduction would fill the palace.

“How is little Ayla?” Zaki asked.

“Stubborn as always.”

“You must be proud.”

“Is this your first time, prince?”

“Sorry?”

“Small talk, is it your first time?”

“So much for not trying to repeat your anger,” Zaki smiled, but knew it failed immediately.

She spun towards him in the centre of the crystalline hall. Song birds sang. The bright sun glimmered with surprising coolness through the narrow windows high up. Grey ghosts rushed by and palace guards remained beside the columns.

“Whatever it is you need from me, please ask, for Ayla deserves all my time.”

“What do you know of the murder in the cheetah district?”

“That is vague, prince, I don’t suppose you have spent much time in the districts to be perturbed by a solitary murder. Unless,” Jazmin eased her mockery and her face became passive. She turned away. “The victim’s name isn’t Luvuyo, is it?”

“You knew her?”

A finger rushed to her lips and she nodded towards the exit. They rushed down the hundred steps without running. The palace gates were already open and they sped past the homes of nobles.

Zaki kept his head down as they entered the lion district, thankfully Jazmin’s Tamed Sinha won almost all of the eyes of the people in the busy main street. He didn’t notice her grip on his wrist until she dragged him to the right. Into a piss haunted, cramped alleyway, where an ominous-looking door awaited at the end. She forced him to slow down, then relinquished her grip on him just as the noise of distant joy reached him through the chaos of the district.

Jazmin paused at the door, hand hovering over the handle. She glanced at him, focused on her Tamed and shared words, for the Sinha darted away. A smile grew on her face, a nervous one, but one he welcomed.

Her home was simple, matching her attempts to mask her noble birth. Hardly a surprise when she opened the door and welcomed him in. At the very least, it was clean. He sniffed rose petals and apples, something savoury baking.

“Ma!”

Ayla stumbled down the stairs doused in flour. She dodged past Zaki into her mother’s arms. Jazmin’s hardness faded. They laughed and snuggled, forgetting he existed.

“Salma is spo… spo… spoiling my baking,” Ayla pouted.

“Is that why you wear flour?”

“She don’t listen!”

“She, oh why do I bother,” Jazmin sighed, placing Ayla on her lap after grabbing a chair. A moment later she noticed Zaki was watching. “Must I invite you to make yourself comfortable?”

Zaki grabbed his own chair and watched Ayla pull a face at him.

“Hello Ayla.”

“You’re petty, Saki. Ma likes to…” Jazmin muffled the rest of her words with her hand. Ayla squirmed.

“I adore her perseverance, despite her troubles, she remains loquacious.” Jazmin said, then kissed Ayla’s head.

“Perhaps her teacher expects too much too soon?”

Jazmin’s face flashed a warning at him, which earned Ayla her freedom.

“I also like Saki, Ma.”

“Also?”

“Baby, please go to Salma. I’ll come and taste your work soon,” Jazmin placed the girl down and waved at her when she climbed back up the stairs.

“Also?” Zaki asked again.

“I’m not one who finds hatred easy, so it’s inevitable I like most people.”

“Oh of course. To business then?”

“One moment,” Jazmin’s eyes wandered beyond the room, almost glazing over. “We are safe.”

“This is larger than I thought, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps.”

Zaki didn’t enjoy her controlled scent, it wasn’t unexpected, but still an annoyance. Slippers descended the stairs and he held his tongue.

“Forgive me for interrupting Jazmin,” an aged, slender woman in thick greys said once she reached the bottom. The woman’s eyes widened, then she fell to her knees.

“Prince Zaki, forgive me.”

“Is Ayla giving you trouble, Salma?”

“No, I wondered if you needed anything?”

“Water would be nice,” Zaki answered, for her eyes were on him.

Salma nodded and curtsied before returning up the stairs. Jazmin was unimpressed.

“She’s not one of your palace greys.”

“Does she not serve you?”

“Salma is a friend who aids me in caring for Ayla when duty calls.”

“If you say so.”

“I expected nothing more.”

“Your insolence bores me, Jazmin.”

“Prince, you are hardly any better,” she said as her eyes floated to the pommel of his khopesh peaking over his right shoulder.

“There is a difference.”

“A problem, don’t you think? Besides, to be beheaded by such a beautiful wouldn’t be an awful end, as long as Ayla is taken care of.”

Jazmin snorted at his expression.

“You are here, which means there is an element of desperation, allow me my teasing. I trust you’re not a tyrant, yet.”

Salma returned with a jug and two polished clay cups. She added a bowl of grapes. Jazmin thanked her, Zaki grabbed a few green bulbous grapes and listened to Salma’s slippers fade.

“Let’s call this duty then.”

“I was under the impression you despised duty,” Zaki said.

“Duty is in our nature as Tamers, some might say.”

“So, what can you tell me then?”

“Nothing you do not know already.”

“Have I wasted my time?” Zaki asked.

“Who am I to answer that?”

He was ready to leave, but she raised a rushed hand. She truly enjoyed it, strange woman.

“I knew what she was involved with. Do you know how sat on the lion throne here in the capital, before the pharaoh grew temporary roots?”

“Your,”

“Don’t say it. My Tamed may guard, but access to the endless knowledge in the archives has caused me to be wary of all sorts of Tamer abilities.”

“So, it involves him?”

“One of many hands, prince. There are dirtier hands, though I wouldn’t trust my assumption.”

“Speaking to dirty hands warns them into washing them. What about your brother?”

Her control broke. A flash of fear tickled his nose, she filled her mouth with grapes. Ayla screeched above, and another question sparked in him.

“Does Ayla have a sibling?”

Anger replaced her fear.

There is some truth to the rumours then, but what about the rest? Zaki asked himself.

“You have personal experience with these dirty hands, don’t you?”

The goblet shattered in her grip, spilling the rest of her water. Her rage was so controlled that he almost reached for his khopesh, he’d never seen anything like it.

“Enough.”

“Ma, come!” Ayla shouted.

“You bite greedily, prince. Twin princes cannot provide any sort of comfort for anyone against these dirty hands. Yes, I know your brother is involved in this, hopefully he is doing a far better job. If I know, they know, spare yourselves and you spare us from more harm. I’ve told you more than enough.”

Ayla waddled down the stairs and jumped back into her mother’s arms. She frowned at the shattered clay while getting comfortable on Jazmin’s lap.

“When will you come play?” Ayla asked him. Wide eyed and glittering, cleansed of all the flour. “Will you play now?”

“No baby, the prince is leaving.”

Jazmin rose to her feet.

“Show your respect, baby.”

“Fa… farewell Prince Saki.”

Zaki managed a weak smile at the child. They left him alone in the foyer of her house. He fiddled with the ironvine ring while his mind struggled to stay afloat with all this new information.