Page 24

J ai stood at the tent’s centre, resisting the urge to pace. Winter remained at his side, sitting straight backed, sensing the gravity of what was to come. Her keen eyes were fixed on the tent entrance, as though her very gaze could summon the anticipated visitors.

Feng had vanished discreetly from the rear of the tent, orchestrating an exit by uprooting one of the anchoring pegs that kept the canvas taut. He had been accompanied by his sister. Jai had extended an invitation for her to stay, but Feng had responded with a resolve that brooked no argument – she would never again leave his side.

By now, it was obvious why Nazeem had wanted Feng gone. To prevent the very conversation they’d just had. He’d declare Feng his bannerman no sooner he had the next chance. So long as Feng would have him.

So now he waited, as Feng sought out the woman who had seemed sympathetic to Jai’s cause – based on nothing but an interruption when Nazeem had refused them the blades. It was a risky thing to do, especially with Nazeem knowing Feng had tricked him. Jai did not know what he had done to earn such loyalty.

He replayed the encounter he’d had with the nobles, that fleeting interaction that had hinted at a desire to rescue him. He tried to recall their faces, their expressions, as they looked upon him: the supposed prodigal son returned.

Many would be men and women who had served his father, bled for the crown, for the tribe, but would they extend the same loyalty to him?

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft rustling outside the tent. His heart hammered like a call to war. It was time to step out from the shadows of his father and brothers and assert his own name.

He was no longer just a son, a brother, a survivor. He was Khan Jai of the Kidara, first of his name. A legacy reborn, a destiny claimed. Rohan had lived by his own legend. It was time for him to blaze his own.

The tent entrance darkened as figures began to crowd its threshold. Jai’s heart lifted in his chest as Feng, Sum and a half-dozen men and women stepped inside, their presence filling the expansive interior. These were the individuals whose allegiance could very well be crucial, the ones whose loyalty could tip the scales of his tenuous claim to rule.

Seeing their numbers, there were more than he’d dared to hope for, a sign that perhaps his cause wasn’t as impossible as it had seemed. At the same time... he could not trust any of them. One of Nazeem’s spies could well be in their midst.

The assembly knelt in fealty, save one – the woman who had been the catalyst of this meeting. She met his gaze with a subtle bow of her head before speaking, her voice quiet in the tent.

‘We must be swift. Nazeem surely has men watching this tent.’

Jai nodded, stepping closer.

‘You are truly Jai, son of Rohan, brother of Samar and Arjun?’ she asked.

Jai nodded, for his throat was as dry as a desert. But she simply kneeled in response, averting her eyes as the rest had done.

Feng cleared his throat, and Jai knew he had to say something . This was all happening so fast.

‘Who are you?’ Jai asked.

‘I am Harleen,’ the woman responded. ‘I fought with your father in the War of the Steppe. With me are the sons and daughters of those that died with him in the last battle.’

He was not schooled in the etiquette of his father’s court, so he lowered himself to their level. The Valor had far simpler rules – and he preferred them.

‘Your grief echoes my own,’ Jai said. ‘And your loyalty to my father will not be forgotten.’

Harleen’s face was etched with the stern lines of a seasoned warrior, her bushy eyebrows and the burn mark on her cheek a reminder of the battles fought in years past. Her question, though respectful, carried an undercurrent of bitterness.

‘Your presence here raises questions. Tales of the palace massacre, the Black Rehearsal as it is now known, reach far and wide. Rumours of your brothers’ plotting with the Dansk have spilled into every corner of our world.’

‘I watched them die,’ Jai stated. ‘Saw Titus slit their throats. This plot was not of their doing. It was Titus. All of it. He killed his own father to seize power. We were but the scapegoats.’

An unsettling silence fell upon the tent, every eye a weight upon him, his words hanging like spectres in the air. He saw the shadow of pity flicker across a young man’s face. Pity he did not need.

‘I didn’t come back to mourn,’ Jai said, with as firm a voice as he could muster. ‘I came back to fight. For the Kidara, for my father’s memory and for the legacy of our people.’

His voice strengthened, his resolve hardening with every word.

Harleen motioned at the others to sit, and they did so, some groaning with relief. Clearly, he had passed their first test. His every phrase was a labyrinth to navigate, as they sought truth in his tale, his countenance and his conviction.

‘And the dragon?’ she asked. ‘The armour? What of Leonid, and his death? Did Titus kill him too?’

Jai hesitated.

‘Leonid I killed,’ he lied. ‘In the name of my father. The armour, I took from his room. And the dragon, a gift, from a Dansk princess. We came here, together, before the Valor captured me.’

‘Lies,’ one of the boys muttered.

‘Oh?’ Jai said.

The boy glanced at him, then lowered his eyes. Still, he wasn’t so cowed as to fall silent. ‘No Dansk would part with a dragon.’

‘Somewhere out there,’ Jai said, ‘far to the west, there will be some thirty Huddites, escaped from the prison of Porticus. The princess is with them. We travel west, do we not, to meet with the invaders? Until then, I will ask my uncle to send search parties, to find them.’

Harleen shared a weighted glance with the others before speaking, her sigh just as heavy. ‘We ride west, yes. But not to engage in war.’

‘Then why?’

‘To pursue peace.’

Jai stared at her, incredulous.

‘They killed my brothers.’

‘So you say. And while I believe you,’ she said, holding up her hand to stave off his protests, ‘your uncle has laid the blame upon their bodies.’ Harleen said, ‘Greedy fools, he calls them. You, he never mentioned. In truth, few of us knew you even existed. You were with us for such a short time.’

‘I share the blood of Rohan.’ Jai’s voice was steadfast. ‘My mother may have been a courtesan, but my lineage remains unbroken.’

‘So you say,’ the same boy blurted out.

‘Quiet, Gurveer!’ Harleen snapped. ‘Show some respect.’

The boy silenced, but Jai saw the tension in the young man’s shoulders.

‘Who else could I be?’ Jai asked.

Gurveer’s lips twitched, as if trying to contain himself, only to fail as words burst forth.

‘Some think you are a Sabine puppet. That your life was spared for your treachery, your betrayal rewarded by a dragon. Then you were sent into our lands to locate us. To gain power, and then turn against us.’

There were a few murmurs of agreement, and Jai felt his heart quicken.

‘It is Teji who betrays us!’ Jai called out. ‘And it will not work. Titus dreams of war. Of finishing what his grandfather started. There will be no peace between the Sithia and Sabines.’

Gurveer scoffed.

‘Believe me, or don’t,’ Jai shot back, his voice echoing around the room. ‘But I am here to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I will not stand idle while the legacy of my father is tarnished.’

‘You claim a lot,’ Harleen said, getting to her feet. ‘But words are wind. Actions are the currency of trust.’

‘I am prepared to act,’ Jai retorted, speaking loud to keep their attention as the men and women stood. ‘I did not come all this way to stand here and be doubted.’

‘Then sit,’ Gurveer snapped. ‘Or prove yourself.’

Still more nods, pursed lips, and then Gurveer made his exit from the tent, a train of supporters trailing behind him. Jai grimaced in the sudden silence – it was evident Gurveer’s word carried considerable weight among the younger generation. Harleen exhaled, her head sinking slightly.

‘We will speak more,’ she said. ‘But you can see, our blood runs hot. Gurveer’s father was executed alongside your father. Most of their parents were, if they did not fall in battle. That is why I brought them. But over the years, Teji and Nazeem have spun such tales that you are practically a Sabine to them. Please, forgive their anger.’

‘Do they blame my father?’ Jai asked.

Harleen allowed him a smile, now that they were alone.

‘Your father was the best of us. To blame him would be to blame their own parents. They believed in his cause, just as much as he did.’

She turned to leave, and Jai blurted a question.

‘Say you believe me,’ Jai said. ‘What would you have me do?’

Harleen paused at the tent’s entrance, glancing back at him. Her face held a thoughtful expression, as though carefully weighing her next words.

‘Prove them wrong, Jai. Show them you’re not the enemy they imagine. Stand with them, fight with them.’

And with those words... she was gone.