it’s never an honourable ordeal when you’re put on trial and sentenced to death for a crime you didn’t commit.”

            Ahadi roared into the still air, eyes blazing. “You committed the crime, you harlot! You led me on, strung me along and had me believing I could forsake everything, my crown, my land and my home, for you, the lioness I loved!” He raised a paw, claws unsheathed, above Huzinia’s head, almost ready to bring it down in a grievous arc. “And then you ran off with Kion’.”

            From beyond, Kiongozi was preparing to leap for his king, preparing to risk all to save his mate, but just as he pushed off with his hind legs, Ubishi barrelled into him and knocked him on his side, and Mnafiki pressed his face down into the dirt, claws piercing the skin around his brow and cheeks, and sneered. “You caused us our suffering. Now earn some of your own.”

            As Kiongozi’s defeated wail lifted into the sky, Huzina whipped round and gasped as she saw her mate’s predicament. She too prepared to leap, but Kawaida jumped onto her back and forced her to the ground, sharp canines maintaining hold on an ear.

            “Kion’!” Huzinia cried out. “Don’t fight them! There’s no point, they have our daughters.”

            Kiongozi growled deep and low, and looked Ahadi in the eye once more. “You monster! How have you become so cruel? How have you changed so since we were young?”

            Ahadi chuckled, watching with an amused expression as Huzunia struggled to off-balance Kawaida, who remained overpowering in the scuffle. “You annoyed me when you tried to hide Huzunia from me. Did you really think I’d fall for such a base trick as your pretence at her death?”

            Kiongozi snarled, lips peeling back from razor fangs. “I had to try. I couldn’t let you have her, or our girls.”

            “But I got them anyway.” Ahadi’s eyes sparkled, and he quickly pressed his paw to his face and brushed something away from his cheek. “And now I have to serve my vengeance. Kawaida, hold her.”

            Huzunia was expressionless until the end, when Ahadi kissed her brow and whispered something in her ear. At that point, her face twisted, and tears ran over her cheeks in rivulets, later meeting with the floods of hot blood streaming from her throat. Ahadi cradled her for a scant few moments, before tenderly laying her lolling head on her paws, which burned colder than Ahadi’s heart.

            “Kawaida,” the king murmured, husky and mirthless, “bring the cubs.”

            The tawny lioness was gone a minute before she and a few other pridesisters came into the council clearing bearing two small cubs, both female, both barely more than newborns. Ahadi regarded them with a longing, searching look, then turned back to Kiongozi, whose face had become a mask of wretched grief and despair.

            “Sarabi and Naanda, sire,” Kawaida announced, gesturing towards the two cubs.

            “Kion’,” Ahadi growled, “choose.”

            “What?” Kiongozi’s voice was just as lifeless as his mate.

            “Choose the daughter that stays with you.” Ahadi growled again. “Choose, so that I can marry the other one to her son, and raise her on the stories that her own father chose her sister over her, doomed her to her sorry fate, and wove the pieces into place that would leave her motherless.”

            It was such a long silence, and it hurt both males so much. Finally, Kiongozi dropped his head, utterly lost. “Naanda. Give Naanda to me.”

            “Which one is this… Naanda?”

            “The pale one. The one with the blue eyes. Give her to me.”

            Ahadi did as he was bid, taking the squealing child to his old friend himself. Placing her gently within Kiongozi’s forelegs, he briefly touched noses with the other lion. “Take her, take your pride, and go in peace.”

            Kiongozi didn’t seem to have heard him, but he cradled his single remaining child to him and wept bitterly, angrily, but did not make any more movement.

            Ahadi watched them for a time, then looked at King Kubali. The elderly lion looked at him with a somewhat fearful expression, but remained silent as Ahadi opened his mouth to speak. “King Kubali, escort King Kiongozi and his daughter back to his pridesisters.” The other lion nodded, and hurriedly made his way over to the weeping lion.

            Ubishi and Mnafiki were dismissed just as tersely, but it was clear to whom they must owe their allegiance. King Ahadi was, like it or no, superior over them, be it in strength or any other factor. Evil he might be, cruel he was for a certainty, but there was no way they could fight him. How could you fight a lion so lost within himself, you weren’t sure if it was he or his ghost you were trying to overcome?

 

* * * * *

 

Uru’s mate was covered in blood when he returned home. The lioness watched him with fearful red eyes as he and his retinue climbed the stone steps up to the promontory, and she had to remind herself with regret that this was the lion she had been in love with for all of his life, the father of her child and the lion for whose return she had waited many, many months.

            The flame-coloured cub at her paws shared her disposition, though he was too young to know why he feared the high king. Barely a babe when Ahadi had left to quell the rebellion, Prince Taka was still sporting his cub spots, but his eyes were wide open, and he fought to see past the obstructions to find his father who Uru knew he wouldn’t recognise.

            The high queen studied each of the returning parties as they climbed to the promontory. Kawaidi, captain of the lionesses, and her force, each bowed to her as they approached, then dispersed into the cave behind. Following them were a few others who were not of a fighting force, but females Uru knew to be wet-nurses, and between them they bore a bespotted infant who writhed and squealed, but would not be freed. They too disappeared into the cave, leaving just Ahadi standing before her. High King Ahadi of the Ndona Pridelands and its vassal neighbours was a terrible sight, though she loved him still.

            “My king,” Uru greeted, near breathless, “it is a blessing that you have returned to us unharmed.” She caught sight of the scabbed-over gash on his brow. “Mostly unharmed, that is.”

            Ahadi grunted in dismissal, then lowered his gaze to the orange cub who still sat, unblinking, at his mother’s paws. “How has my son fared?”

            “Our son,” Uru began fondly, “has been learning fast about the history of our kingdom, and your esteemed father, may he rest in peace.”

            “History?” Ahadi scoffed. “What’s a dull story in comparison to a set of sharp claws? I take it Taka hasn’t been learning battle training.”

            Uru pouted, though she almost immediately bit her lip afterwards in regret of her childish behaviour. “You’re the one who told me to teach Taka lore and history, and you took my captain away.”

            Ahadi sneered. “I forgot; you’re so incapable at the art yourself that you can’t teach a toddler how to swing his paws in self-defence. My mistake.”

            The queen felt a lump rise in her throat, though she swallowed it down. What had become of the tender, sweet lion she once knew? “I expect you’ll tell me all about the new cub you’ve brought home.”

            “Is that what you wish?”

            “It is.”

            Ahadi narrowed his eyes. “Sarabi is the daughter of King Kiongozi and…” He almost choked on the next portion of the sentence. “…Queen Huzunia, of the wandering pride.”

            Uru stiffened at the mention of Huzunia, her one-time rival for Ahadi’s affections. She feared she had lost that battle.

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