knowledge and sharpest of abilities. Not a great beauty, for she resembles not her mother but me, though her heart is good and kind.”

            “Perfect.” Ahadi examined a claw idly before yawning wide. “Present her to me before the half moon or you will be presented with her head.”

            Majuto looked as though he’d been cuffed in the face. “My liege? Most honoured high king? Why could you possibly want her? What have I done or not done to deserve such exploitation?”

            Ahadi released a small sigh. “You are astounded, King Majuto, and so I shall allow your insolence to be forgotten. I told you I am to make an example of you, and so I shall, and all the others must follow in that example. You are to surrender a highly valued member of your family to me or be punished.”

            “But whatever for?”

            “I had your loyalty during the rebellion, Majuto,” Ahadi affirmed, nodding some. “Now that it is over I must make sure you remain loyal. How am I to do that if I do not possess some leverage over your fidelity?”

            Majuto fumed, eyes now narrowed to bloody slits. “An outrage, Ahadi. This is how you reward your honoured servants? I will not stand for this.”

            Ahadi looked almost regretful as his verdant gaze washed over the valley’s king for a few moments. “No, perhaps not.”

            And then he was a blur of tawny fur and gleaming white fangs, too quick for the other lion to even react. The drawback to living in the sweltering heat of the valley meant that Majuto’s mane was significantly receded, and it proved an advantage for Ahadi, whose own mane was thick and heavy, and fiercely guarded his throat. The same could not be said for Majuto, who tried in vain to wriggle away from his leader’s outstretched paws, though Ahadi was too quick. The pair of lions reared up onto their hind paws, Ahadi’s forelegs grasping Majuto’s ribcage and squeezing with unrelenting grip. The darker lion slashed and flailed at his adversary’s face and eyes, and managed to coax an ugly gash above one of those cold green eyes before Ahadi’s maw was at his throat.

            A crunch, and a strangled wheeze were the heralds of the demise of King Majuto, whose sightless red eyes now seemed lustreless in favour of the growing pool beneath his chin.

            The council, sickened and subdued, tore their eyes from the body of their former fellow, and said nothing as Ahadi caught his breath and wiped the blood from his mouth and brow. His gash continued to bleed, but it seemed not to bother the high king, who sat calmly next to the body of his former friend. “Any others who wish to challenge me?”

            When the only reply was silence, the high king smiled wanly. “How pleasing.” Now he turned his gaze to the ageing king of the Kavu pride, who scraped at survival in the harsh drylands in the west. “King Kubali of the drylands, will you accept my terms more… cordially than poor Majuto here?”

            Kubali allowed himself a fleeting glance at the lifeless remnant of Majuto before meeting his king’s gaze with hesitant certainty. “More cordial than Majuto is wetter than the desert, Your Grace. Name a member of my rather extended family and they will be yours, provided you can promise the safety of the rest of my progeny.”

            Ahadi’s look of agreement was one laced with regard, with acknowledgement of the diplomatic strength that Kubali possessed. “Have you a very young daughter within your family, just a cub or younger? I plan to bring forth many sons, and these sons will require mates of the noblest blood.”

            “No daughters of the age you desire,” Kubali replied, wincing, “though my grandson, my kingdom’s crown prince, sired a single son on his mate just a week past. When he is able, he will be offered with no qualms to Your Excellence.”

            Ahadi nodded again. “Perfect. Can the same be uttered of King Ubishi?”

            Ubishi was the king of the east, and just as he had been submissive in his advice to Mnafiki, he was submissive in his reply to his high king. “You already took my mate and only son. I have nothing more to give to you.”

             Ahadi seemed thinly amused. “That is true. I suppose I have wounded you too sorely for you to dream of defying me again.”

            Now his gaze fell to the queen of the south, the only lioness present in the council, and the youngest of them, being barely out of adolescence. Already wise to the situation, she didn’t need a prompt to make her offer. “I have no family as yet but my young sister, who I will sadly but willingly give to you, high king.”

            “See?” Ahadi looked to the others. “Perhaps it is a blessing that we possess a female ruler among us, someone who can rule and be ruled without argument or defiance.” He cast a look towards the young queen that spoke neither of appreciation nor of recognition, but of a mocking disregard, and, poorly concealed beneath, a slight but disturbing hunger.

            But now it was time for the king of the wanderers, who sat in the centre of the five rulers and fixed his amber glare on his high king, for whom he held a passionate loathing. Kiongozi, rebel-king of the wandering pride, would bow to none, and would fight all who presumed to force him. “My king, I believe it is my turn to be, as our most beloved Majuto put it, exploited.”

            “Your band of pathetic weaklings can offer little and less to me, King Kion’,” Ahadi chuckled, deep in his throat. “Though I admit, yours it the most irritating of cases.”

            Kiongozi said nothing.

            “I remember that as adolescents, you and your dear brother Kisa were my adamant and beloved protectors – the leader of my protectors, if you will.” Ahadi’s smile was almost sad, nearly longing, but at the same time razor-edged and cruel. “I didn’t know then that you two damnable brothers would attempt to steal everything out from under my nose. My kingdom, my people, my betrothed and my love.”

            Though Ahadi’s voice was calm, Kiongozi knew the hostile implicit that he harboured within, and tried to swallow down his anxiety. “My king, you had no claim to half those things I supposedly stole from you. You’re a liar and a beast, and nothing you can say or do can urge me to relent in my rebellion against your rule.”

            “Perhaps not, Kion’,” the high king sighed. “So I will not ask you to. I do, however, wish to know what happened to my sweet Huzunia.”

            Another stunned silence reigned, and Kiongozi narrowed his eyes slowly. His pelt bristled, and Ahadi watched as his foreclaws dug into the blood-spattered earth below. “My Huzunia wasted away some time ago. A sickness of the heart, I fear. Could not eat, nor drink, and sleep evaded her. She died carrying my unborn children.” His words came hastily, and rushed, as though premeditated but not rehearsed.

            And there was where the king turned truly cold.

            “You see, Kiongozi,” Ahadi spat, rising to full height and abandoning the smile in favour of an ugly snarl. “Huzunia would tell me otherwise. Kawaida!”

            From the bushes, came a tall and thickly-built lioness – obviously Kawaida – dragging with her a writhing form left in shadow by her captor. Kawaida managed to haul the fighting creature by the scruff of the neck to Ahadi’s paws, then released her and took a few meek steps back, cowering from the wrath of her king and pride leader. Ahadi let out another long sigh, then looked down at the shape – the lioness – beneath him. “Huzinia… why did it have to be this way?”

            The lioness was small, and though her fur was sleek and well-groomed, her blue eyes held a feral sharpness to them and she looked up at the high king with scorn and defiant fear, the kind of fear held by a cornered rat with which it makes its final stand. She was a plain-looking thing, her fur of a generic tawny hue, but the softness of jaw, and the rarely-seen darker rims to her ears gave her a gentle and somewhat precious stigma.

            “High King,” Huzina growled in mock regard, “I would say it’s an honour to be here, but it’s