Prologue

New Dawn

The council had never met under such dire circumstances, and it showed. The light of the full moon illuminating their backs, silver sheens gracing their bedraggled manes, the six lion monarchs of the united prides stood bristling in the hollow, six pairs of eyes glinting with malice and disdain at one another in spite of the promise of peace that the meeting heralded. Though claws remained sheathed, and no snarls were present on any faces, the implicit still stood; if it were not deemed the most heinous of crimes to shed blood on a truce-eve, there would not be six lions standing here but six disembodied throats, discarded and drowning in crusted blood. But they all knew better, and so they stood watching one another intently, living fervently by the law but still daring someone – anyone – to break it.

            Such an array of pelts and lineages were here this night. The smaller, lither male of the north boasted a thinner, paler coat, whilst the southern queen hulked in her tawny swath of fur. Crimson eyes blazed out from the face of the representative of the western pride, and blue countered it with an icy chill, courtesy of the east. The wanderer king, a lion in motley if there ever had been one, remained seemingly placid, too small to be able to best his peers in combat but intelligent enough to sense a fight when it was brewing. His people came in many coats and many shapes, and he was a poor hint as to their like, but he was perhaps the least aggressive of the attendees, and the most cunning. He knew the reason for which they waited here so impatiently, and he understood it better than the others. He was one of the major players in this war, his lionesses the masters of guerrilla combat, of stealing away prey from the enemy, of laying traps and elaborate ambushes. It was he that was to blame for the war, but until now, none had been able to bring him to justice.

            He wouldn’t need to wait long, either. Already there were signs of movement in the thick brush beyond, left in shroud by a thick curtain of tall bushes. Green eyes twinkled in the gloom, and a thickset shape lumbered out from the shadows and into illumination under the mournful eye of the moon. A lion, neither big nor small, pale nor flush, practically mundane but for the regal red of his sweeping mane, sat down heavily on his haunches and scanned the others, all of whom dropped their forelegs to prostate themselves before His Royal Majesty, High King of the United Pridelands, Ahadi Ndona, their dearest friend and, simultaneously, their worst enemy.

            “You needn’t waste moonlight with the pleasantries,” the high king murmured, his voice a deep and deathly calm song, weaving through the pointed blades of silence and dulling them all with ease. “We have matters of import to discuss, and I mean to end this petty war once and for all.”

            “Such was the intention of us all, Your Majesty,” crooned the elderly ruler of the western Kavu pride, whose age-silvered goatee and sharp, shallow cheekbones gave his face a deft, pointed look. “Though my lionesses have not fought in this terrible conflict, we are not shy to its brutalities, and so we are eager to see it ended.” He gave a much exaggerated shudder, and Ahadi fought not to roll his eyes.

            “Perhaps,” came the smooth purr of the northern king, “it is time to see justice served for the perpetrators, the upstarts and rebels, no?” He ran his tongue across his paw, then half-heartedly smoothed down the silken flow of his own mane, a vast expanse that shone paler even than the sandy-cream of his pelt. “Rebels that sit so calmly amongst us now?”

            “Such as yourself, Mnafiki?” Ahadi’s gentle remark was no louder than a murmur, though it stunned the entire council into awed silence at their high king’s lack of expression, of reaction to the traitors in his midst. They each cast one another the briefest of glances beneath their leader’s burning gaze, then fell still as he lifted his chin. “I have eyes in the darkest of reaches, my fickle king of the north.  Eyes that can see your treachery as if it were the zenith of day.”

            Mnafiki seemed to be strangled, sounds escaping from his agape jaw but invoking no comprehension in his peers. The pale king dropped into a quaking crouch, keeping his throat low and obstructed but his eyes high, just beneath the eyes of his superior. “High King, I beg the scantest mercy of your royal excellency, not for myself but for my family.”

            “Your family?” Ahadi now showed the faintest of interest; the green of his eyes seemed to shine even brighter, were it possible, than before. “Elaborate.”

            Puzzled, the northern lion struggled for words, before gasping out, “My mate, sire, a lioness of the Kavu royal family. And my two cubs: my eldest, my son Mito, and Sarafina, who is just born.”

            “A daughter?”

            “Yes, my liege.”

            There was a long, drawn out and aching pause, and then the pale muzzle of the high king split in a small smile. “How convenient. She will be most welcome in my court, I promise you.”

            Mnafiki’s eyes grew wide and his face contorted into a silent cry. “Sire, I don’t understand you.”

            “I think you do.” The king’s voice was cold, merciless. “Your daughter will be taken by my lionesses as a ward, and will be married into the royal family or otherwise used as a royal emissary or messenger. Now do you understand the great kindness I am bestowing upon you?”

            Mnafiki looked as though he might object, but the king of the east, an ebon-pelted, icy-eyed giant of a lion, gave a low rumble in his throat. “Better he should take your daughter than gut your mate and son, and leave your kingdom heirless.” He didn’t meet the gaze of any lion, just looked down ruefully and quieted. He knew better now than to cross the king when he demanded atonement for his subordinates’ sins.

            “You will hand her over to me before the half-moon or suffer the consequences.” Evidently finished with the affair, Ahadi turned his gaze from Mnafiki, who remained low and silent, to the king of the Outer Valley, the domain of whom was some distance from the cluster of territories that belonged to the rest of the united prides. “Majuto?”

            King Majuto of the Valley wore dull grey to his pelt, and his pride’s characteristic marking was seen in the darker dorsal stripe that tapered to a point in the centre of his brow, and reached the small of his back. His eyes gleamed bright red in the black, eyes that showed nothing but triumph. Here was a lion with complete immunity, for having no hand in the tragedies that befell his less content neighbours, and he knew it. “My liege, as ever it is an honour to serve. Your Magnificence is aware that I am not to blame for these rebellions, and I only hope you remember my loyalty and spare me from sacrifice – though I would be happy to provide anything within my hold.”

            High King Ahadi pondered his subject’s honeyed words, and as much as he found great difficulty trusting and allying with such a simpering suck-up, he groaned inwardly and swallowed his convictions. “I would ask merely a favour of you Majuto.”

            “Anything, my liege.” The relief was evident in the dark lion’s stance, though the alertness was not all dispersed.

            “I might make an example of you to the others, Majuto.” Ahadi studied him intently, watching the slight change in expression as the other lion tried to think of what such a demand might entail.

            “If that is my high king’s wish, then it shall be so.” Majuto’s tone was uncertain, wary, but it still grasped at confidence.

            “Your daughter Neema, as I understand it, is a flourishing young lioness who has just succeeded in her First Hunt Ritual, am I correct?” Ahadi’s tone invoked a grim sense of anticipation in his subordinates; would he expect such a tribute from all of the lesser kings?

            “Neema is a fine child, my only cub,” Majuto professed. “Born into this world just as her mother parted from it, and raised with the keenest knowledge and sharpest