When Spot left Eina behind in the medical wing he’d expected the nerves, the shaking. He was going to kill other faunum in the name of the King and Queen. He’d proceeded to do so several times, in some cases brutally, like the animals to which they were all so closely related. What he hadn’t expected was the same sensations on the way back. The operation against the Oro had gone off almost without a hitch but the one casualty had been his partner, and he had no idea if Eina would still be waiting for him when he got back, if she would still be alive. Fortunately for his nerves, he, Idris, and his comatose partner were rocketing back towards the palace in a shuttle that, on the outside, appeared as nothing more than an ambulance. It was one of the best armed and armored ambulances in the kingdom, but nobody watching needed to know that. The remainder of the Sekhama were either still at the Oro’s base of operations securing evidence and ensuring a perimeter, or returning to the various military bases from which they deployed, using a randomly generated dispersal pattern to throw off those who might be looking at things they shouldn’t with technology they shouldn’t possess. If katana anti-air launchers were filtering down into the hands of street gangs, who was to say what else they had on hand?

“Spot,” Octavia got his attention in a low, almost fatherly voice. “I’m only going to say this once. You are a member of the Sekhama now. You will always be watched, scrutinized, and appraised for weakness or strength, just like the rest of us. Find yourself somewhere private if you need to mourn or deal with what happened tonight. Maintaining your health as a professional soldier is just as much your job as the actual killing of the Crown’s enemies. Am I clear?”

“Yes sir,” Spot managed to reply, feeling like he was forcing the words through a tightening rubber tube. With every second he was getting closer to an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and what a third party observer would have described as an unhealthy obsession with a street whore. Idris Octavia was not that sort of observer.

“Good. There are those in the employ of the Matriarch who are skilled in the art of conversation and are as loyal to her as any of us are to the Queen or King. Or go to the heavy ordinance range. Both are fine.”

“But you said rookies aren’t normally allowed into the harem after their first mission. You don’t need to-”

“I have had this conversation with every single rookie since I assumed command of this force, Spot. The harem is not some street corner sex den where your brothers in arms get to fool around either by the grace of or for the enjoyment of the upper crust of society, though I understand well its appeal in that regard. You can get anything there from a perfectly brewed cup of tea to things unmentionable even in the corridors when you think no one is listening. Speaking to somebody about what you’ve seen and done is a far cry from getting your cock wet. You are not special,” the lion insisted gruffly, ensuring silence as the pilot radioed the cabin from the cockpit, informing them that they’d entered the palace’s direct airspace and were about to touch down atop the medical wing’s helipad. Spot had little time to reflect upon the Commander’s words as the side of the shuttle opened and he leapt out onto the tarmac, ready to assist the two medical staff who had accompanied Doc Oz in moving Tark’s gurney from the vehicle to solid ground.

“So you are the partner?” the doctor noted as he walked around to get a head on view of the shattered limb of Spot’s partner. “You removed the arm?”

“I uh, yes sir.”

“Commander Octavia, who was the field medic who saw to the injury?”

“Pteris. And if you could hold your evaluations until the sun comes up at least, Doctor?”

Oz waved him off with a feathered arm as the medical staff began wheeling the injured Sekhama to the elevator that would lead directly to the back end of the medbay, with Spot hot in tow. “I will only submit a complaint if they screwed up and cost our brave Sekhama here some amount of functionality in his new limb, Commander. Otherwise I suppose congratulations are in order?”

“You’re always a riot, Oz. Enjoy it while you can. We have a lot you’re going to have to sift through come morning and none of it is pretty,” Octavia explained, joining them in the elevator as the shuttle pilot threw them a salute and kicked his bird back into the air, bound for the palace’s vehicle storage and maintenance depot. The large, fortified structure was located well within the palace’s security perimeter, but distant enough so as not to ruin the experience of visiting dignitaries or other patrons of the crown. Spot watched it go, soaring gracefully over the palms and other greenery of the palace grounds before becoming naught but a dim light in the black night sky, faintly reminding him of the first time he’d been brought to the palace. That life seemed far away, as though something he could only remember through a looking glass. His was that of a Sekhama now, and all the grief and triumph that came along with it.

After a tense, silent ride in the elevator, broken only by the clicking of Spot’s shotgun bolt as the rookie did his best to remain calm, the doors opened and Oz went to work as bright, white lights guiding their way to an already prepared operating suite. Spot barely had a chance to look around the room before the medical professionals had passed through the sterilization bubble and began transferring Tark to the operating table. By the time he’d checked every bed visually and noted every single one of them was empty, pristine, and awaiting new patients, Oz was already determining his partner’s reactions to electronic stimuli via the protective artificial socket that had been fixed to the arm in the field. “Eina…”

Octavia inhaled a deep breath through his nose and placed a heavy paw on Spot’s shoulder. “Welcome to the other half of being a Sekhama.”

Spot did his best to control his lips and eyes, feeling the natural reactions tugging at him, willing tears to spring from his lids. “They’re dead, at least,” was all he could say, his voice parched and cracked.

“They are, Spot, by your hand. What you’re feeling right now is the bittersweet line between justice and vengeance. If you choose to cleanse your palate with some of the harem’s jasmine tea, I will meet you there.”

“Do you really give this talk to every rookie, sir?” Spot wondered as their heavy boots rang off the sterile, linoleum floor and they moved to observe the beginnings of Tark’s operation from a respectful distance. Octavia allowed himself to smile then, just a bit.

“Not all of my rookies fall in love with street whores, Spot. And before you snap at me as I know you so desperately want to… I find it reassuring that even in this line of work something so unreasonably hopeful can happen. If she is gone, be strong for that boy.”

“You have… I don’t know if I can do that,” Spot replied, clenching his fists so tightly the creaking of his gloves could be heard against the handle of his shotgun. Octavia crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.

“That’s why it wasn’t an order, Spot. You have thirty minutes. Otherwise, wait until after your next op or put in a request directly with one of the Matriarch’s staff to speak with one of her healers. It’s your choice.”

Spot lowered his head, closing his eyes as the lights from over head reflected up at him off the spotless floor. It felt a mockery in a way, light and dead. “I appreciate this, sir. I’ll be there.”

Octavia hummed approvingly. “Good, but ditch the shotgun.”

-----

“So, you’re the one? Hmmm, our Lady did always have an eye for quality and an unhealthy obsession with the underbelly of society. You are her diamond in the rough, I suppose. I assume you know who I am?” the matronly hyena demanded in a silken voice, walking slowly in a full circle around where Eina sat, straight backed on a plush ottoman in the middle of one of the several private chambers that made up the south wing of the glistening jewel of Alhamkara’s palace, the harem.

“You’re the Matriarch,” the cheetah replied in a weak voice. The hyena nodded, taking her chin between her fingers as she considered her from every angle.

“Oh they’ll like you, my dear. Meek and mild mannered with an alluring, voluptuous street body, with modifications to match. I know a few gentlemen and more than one lady who would pay dearly to spend a night with you if that is still to your liking. Ah ah ah now Eina, you cannot ever show fear or they will eat you alive. It is not wise to allow the clientele to believe they hold power here. That rests with you. So tell me little cat, why did you come knocking at my door the moment you were able to walk again?” Matriarch asked, sitting in a chair opposite Eina and crossing her legs one over the other. Her body was clad in a voluminous robe of the finest silks dyed a deep, earthen red and trimmed with gold. The symbol of the palace, the dawning sun, adorned the collar below her left cheek. The sight of her left Eina speechless for a moment. Her elegant dress was modest, covering her entire upper body, arms, and most of her legs when standing, but she understood how to arrange herself just so, ensuring a tantalizing glance of her thighs and calves when seated. The queen of the harem smiled at her, keeping her teeth behind her lips. “I’m flattered, my dear. Now introductions? Let’s start there.”

“I am Eina, my lady,” the cheetah replied quietly.

“And you’re quite honest. Not always a good quality but I demand absolute loyalty from those who serve me, just as is demanded of me by those I serve. Now, apart from my wonderful decor,” the Matriarch said, gesturing with a smooth sweep of her arm to the room around them. Sandstone walls, a rich dark wood bed frame, silks and pillows trimmed in gold, ornate hookah pipes and vases of rare desert flowers all set the scene where the wealthiest and most powerful might indulge themselves, and where Eina never in a million years dreamed she might be. “Why did you come to the harem, Eina?”

She stammered a reply. “I w-wish to repay her majesty, Lady Keiko. I am without s-skills, so I thought-”

“You thought that a dancer from an illicit brothel could just waltz into the harem and begin to serve as the Crown requires,” the Matriarch finished playfully, cowing Eina into silence. After a moment under her gaze, withering before her stern, mahogany eyes she looked away, feeling shame grow within her breast. “Honest and brave. Unpolished stones have no place in my collection, but I called you a diamond for a reason, your eyes not the least of them. I already know what you went through to get them and why, so we will not waste our time on such matters as your past. The kitchens would take you, Eina, as well as the other handmaidens. We could always use someone else to air out the bedding. You do not have to do this.”

Eina looked up at her again curiously, finding that the Matriarch had procured a thin, wooden pipe from somewhere on her person. The material was dark, almost black, polished to a fine sheen and inlaid with ivory. With practiced motions she packed the small bowl and lit it with a strike of her fingers, catalysing a reaction that sent a thin trail of haunting, blue smoke into the air. She puffed lightly, exhaling a vibrant, sparkling cloud of azure fumes. “I’ve only ever seen it so pure once in my life,” Eina remarked.

That comment actually elicited a reaction from the seasoned hyena as she cocked her brow ever so slightly. “Indeed? We do not serve anything else here, and we refine it ourselves.”

“I can only imagine what that would cost,” Eina replied wistfully, feeling her mouth begin to salivate as the smell reached her. “That is… utterly divine.”

“And your relationship with the substance is exceedingly complicated,” the Matriarch pointed out, removing the pipe from between her lips and allowing it to rest comfortably on one knee. “Perhaps that is the answer?”

“N-No! I would never… no,” Eina pleaded. “If I require it I was told to return to the medical wing.”

“And where is the fun in that?” the hyena chuckled, finally relenting. “Eina, this is but a taste of the sort of games that are played in my world. I admire your devotion to our Lady, but I need to know you can survive this place. If a client comes to anticipate your services, I cannot simply inform them that you are no longer available.”

Eina shook her head briefly, partially to clear the sinful smell of azure smoke from her nostrils and partially to contemplate the idea of not just being the piece of meat that was on duty that day of the week, to have clients in the true sense of the word, to be a service in demand. “Do all of your employees engage in my old line of work?” she finally asked.

“The dancing, or the sex in exchange for money?” Matriarch replied without a hint of sympathy.

“Sex in exchange for the ability to feed myself and my children,” Eina shot back after a deep breath. Her interviewer nodded her head curtly.

“I would like to make two things clear to you, Eina. The first is that your children will be cared for regardless of what happens after this conversation. They are innocent, and will be treated as such. The second is that sex is only one of the wide array of services I, my staff, and possibly you might offer to our clientele. And I personally hold both sides of sexual transactions to exacting standards of professionalism and pleasure. This is not the world you came from, Eina.”

“Then I will have no problem surviving it,” she replied, her human-like eyes narrowing in determination. She did not care how devious or brutal the palace’s guests were. There were rules within those mighty sandstone walls. At the Oasis, where money and muscle did the talking, there were none.

“I admire your determination, but that remains to be seen.”

“Then if you have the time, Matriarch, I’d like to tell you about the birth of my first child, Keiko.”

-----

“Elandri, they have you on night shift again?” Octavia demanded, approaching the vaulted double doors of wrought metal that led to the palace harem. The entire surface was lovingly detailed, depicting scenes both carnal and beautiful, and flanked by two of the harem’s ceremonial guards. They sported the same sort of armor worn by Idris for official functions, overwrought with expressive metalwork on large pauldrons and intricate embroidery in gold on deep navy tunics and skirts. Bangles of gold and shining metallic greaves adorned their lower legs, with each wielding a spear and a knife at their belts. They were there both to enforce and to entice, perhaps the only truly forbidden fruit within the harem and a reminder that impropriety would not be tolerated under the gaze of the Crown. The commander of the Sekhama stepped forward and embraced Elandri, the lioness returning the hug briefly before stepping back and running a hand through the close cropped, crimson ‘mane’ that ran down the back of her head and neck. Such female manes were rare but not unheard of in Alhamkara. Among the bloodline of the Octavias, it was practically expected.

“I requested it, uncle. And I’m well past the age you need to be intervening on my behalf around the palace, especially in matters as mundane as guard shifts,” she said in a soft tone, her voice nevertheless carrying a fair distance through the curved, stone hallways that made up the central elements of the palace.

“I would never!” Octavia protested, wilting quickly under Elandri’s keen gaze before smiling genuinely for the first time in more than a day. “How are things in there?”

“Plenty of room for your boys if that’s what you’re asking,” she reported. “The esteemed Lord Torando tends to mope about more often than not, but he keeps his dour thoughts to himself and pays well. I assume the operation was a success?”

“You know I can’t speak about such things openly. You’ll see tomorrow,” he replied calmly, knowing full well he’d answered the question regardless.

“Good, that’s good then. I have a message for you, by the way.”

“From the Matriarch?”

“Yeah, who else?” Elandri wondered, leaning against her spear. “She’s with a new girl tonight, so you’ll have to wait a bit.”

“New girl?” the Commander asked curiously.

“Don’t sound so eager, dear uncle,” his niece teased. The lion tossed his mane lightly and scoffed back at her.

“I don’t need to take that from you, whelp. But very well. I suppose once she accepts a new member she considers them one of her children in a way. I can wait for the rookie out here then,” Idris decided, leaning against the wall next to his niece.

“Rookie? You don’t usually let rookies in here,” she pointed out.

“I don’t, but this is a bit of a unique circumstance,” Octavia replied. “It was a mentally difficult operation, and if he dies on his next op I’d likely go to my grave regretting that I didn’t give a street urchin at least one taste of this place.”

“So that dog’s not so wet behind the ears anymore?” Elandri deduced easily. “Well good for him. Not sure any of the regulars will be that impressed by a rook, but there are always plenty of serving girls and handmaidens who’d jump at him.”

“I’m not sure how to feel about my niece appraising the sexual potential of my own troops,” Octavia chuckled with a shake of his head. Elandri joined him.

“Part of the territory, uncle. And you know well enough I’ve always wanted this job. So try not to treat me like the little girl you’d let ride on your shoulders?”

Her words had Octavia walking to the other side of the corridor, looking out through the archways of stone over the western half of the palace. The harem’s main room faced east, allowing the rising sun to warm its gardens and beds. “You will always be that girl to me, but you are a fine young woman as well. Just don’t run off with any of my boys and we’ll be fine.”

“You have that little faith in them?” Elandri wondered in surprise.

“No, just the opposite. I would hate for my grandnephews or grandnieces to come home one day to a world without their father is all,” he said with open remorse. His niece shook her head.

“How many times do I need to tell you that wasn’t your fault, uncle?” she demanded hotly.

“You’ve always been kind to me on that account Elandri, but there is plenty of blame to be placed on the shoulders of all parties, mine included. Enough about that, though,” he insisted as the firm footfalls of another individual could be heard from down the corridor. “Ready to have a little fun?”

“Best part of my job, minus the azure and baths,” Elandri said with a hint of eagerness in her voice. “Wonder who will catch his eye first. Bet you it’ll be Lycia. She loves herself a fresh cut of meat. Never understood why she doesn’t join up full time. Guess she enjoys the allure of being the outsider.”

“Then I’ll be sure to steer him in the opposite direction,” Octavia insisted as Spot slowed to stop in front of them and saluted.

“Sir,” he said respectfully. The commander looked him over and nodded in approval. The rookie had possessed the common sense to leave his bloodstained armor back in the armory. He addressed Elandri as well. “Good evening.”

“Ah he’ll get along just fine,” the lioness laughed. “Word of advice, kid, don’t stare. Surest sign of a newbie.”

“Oh stop it, Elandri. No one gets to just walk through these doors, and you know everyone who does. They’ll know he’s new. That said she’s right, Spot. Act like you’ve been there before if you want to return, and no matter what you do remember your place,” Octavia commanded without elaborating on exactly what that entailed. Spot nodded humbly, looking at his boots.

“I won’t cause trouble, sir.”

“I’m more worried about our esteemed Commander here if my dear employer finds herself busy,” Elandri ribbed her uncle. “So the name Spot stuck, did it? Well you don’t look a thing like you did when you first showed up. Have fun in there.”

Spot felt his heart catch in his throat as Elandri and her partner took a step towards the center of the doors, each grabbing a knocker in the shape of a lion’s head. They rapped twice, the clang of metal on metal echoing through the hallways and surely on the other side as well. As the guards stood aside the doors opened inward, leaving only a moment for Octavia to give his recently graduated rookie one final piece of advice. “Remember, you’re a killer. Most of them aren’t.”

Spot’s brow furrowed as he remembered the kick of his shotgun against his shoulder and the smell of blood. The sight before him had to have been its exact opposite, even before he stepped across the threshold. “So that’s what the inside of the central tower looks like,” he murmured, walking forward with Octavia as the guards on the other side of the doors bowed and closed the entryway behind them. Spot did his best to keep his face stern and rigid, but found it difficult as every one of his senses was assailed at once. Towering columns formed a ring from just behind him at each side of the doors all the way out to the far point of the central area of the harem. Those more cultured than he would have referred to what lay before him as an amphitheater, with a sunken performance stage in the middle surrounded by comfortable seating at every angle. Cushions that had to be worth more than a month of his salary were scattered about in a pattern that appeared haphazard, but each invited him to be seated at a perfect distance from other guests while enjoying azure hookah or simple flavored tobacco instead. He noticed both. Small tables were set up every so often to entertain groups of two to four, or individuals who might wish to take a meal along with their show. In the center of the amphitheater, or arena as far as Spot was concerned, a young gazelle clad in translucent crimson silks and gold jewelry danced to a beautiful melody played by a pair of wild dogs. The gentlemen were around Spot’s age, if he had to guess, and were dressed far better than he was. Their tunics and pants were done in the same crimson and gold motif that seemed to accompany all of the staff. Conservative and regal, they ensured the musicians were pleasing to the eye without taking away from the performer herself. Spot contented himself knowing he had them beat on musculature, at least.

Tearing his eyes away from the body of the gazelle, which he figured he’d be able to see forever in his mind’s eye, he noticed two smaller wooden doors to either side of him. They were both made of wood and designed to blend in with the walls. Spot figured easily enough that they were for the staff as one of them opened and a serving girl no less beautiful than the dancing gazelle stepped through. The hyena lass was carrying an opulent tray with a bottle of amber alcohol, a gilded crystal glass, a small chest of ice, and a mahogany box of cigars along with all of the necessary accoutrements. With practiced grace she moved down the stairs of the ‘arena’ and walked along the row to where her patron awaited her, a rhinoceros who had to be a commodity magnate of some kind or another based on his well tailored suit and carved horns, one of which bore a guild emblem that he couldn’t make out at distance. The rookie watched as the server went about pouring a glass for him over a single cube of ice, not wasting a drop, before cutting a cigar and offering it to him. The businessman leaned forward slightly, taking in the center of her cleavage left exposed by her uniform, as she struck a match and lit the cigar with a tiny, blue flame. What was perhaps most surprising to Spot was the fact that the older man dismissed her casually without so much as a second glance, much less a slap on the ass or some other unbecoming action that nevertheless would surely be permitted in that place. The smoke from the cigar carried up and away from the wealthy gentleman, wafting slowly away from the guests and out through the several open arches across the way.

“Damn,” Spot whispered, realizing just how large the gardens that rested beyond those columns had to be given the size of the room they were in and the fact that it clearly made up a concentric circle within the main tower. He noticed a well lit fountain at the center of well-manicured, branching paths, but the majority of the area was concealed from him, likely intentionally. He figured more than a few secrets had been shared in the ‘privacy’ of the trees and bushes there, to say nothing of the several rooms that made up the rest of the inner circle between the serving entrances, the grand corridors to the north and south, and the gardens to the east. He counted four on each side, each situated under one arch between two columns, and each of which was concealed by drapes and tapestries just as fine as the rest of the place. Some were dark and unused, while others were lit. One in particular caught his attention due to the fact that while obviously occupied, the occupants had only seen fit to close the thinnest of the privacy curtains. He wasn’t sure what miracle of material engineering allowed light and silhouettes through while concealing much of the sound from beyond, but little was left to the imagination regarding just what sort of carnal pleasures the occupants were indulging in. Given how few attendees were paying direct attention, with little more than a laugh or two shared between a couple of well dressed ladies eating delicate pastries one of the tables, Spot came to the somewhat horrifying conclusion that semi-public, if not downright public sex was a key feature of the harem. He tore his eyes away and rubbed the bristly hair on the back of his neck, wondering if such a performance ever took place within the arena proper.

“I’d say that’s a proper reaction,” Octavia chuckled deep in his belly. “Baths are that way, through the south corridor. Maybe make that your first stop? North is the main dining room. Unless you want your ear talked off by visiting dignitaries for hours on end, I’d avoid it.”

Spot nodded, but wouldn’t have been able to repeat Octavia’s words if his life depended on it. He was far too focused on an older hyena dressed in flattering, red robes escorting a young cheetah female through the space. She was dressed in the same clothing as the rest of the staff and had no tail. It was easy for the Commander to spot what had captured the rookie’s attention. He pursed his lips, impressed at the sight. “Well what do you know? Oz pulled it off.”

-----

“Try not to stare so much, my dear. You are not here to look at them; they are here to look at you,” the Matriarch advised as she led Eina from the northern servant’s corridor, which connected to the vast kitchens that kept the various guests of the harem sated, into the main chamber. The cheetah clutched her hands in front of her and bowed slightly.

“My apologies, Mistress,” Eina offered, returning her gaze primarily to her new employer. For whatever else it was worth, the Oasis had made her an expert on ignoring trouble, no matter how alluring. “I have just never seen such wonders before.”

The Matriarch tugged the corner of one of her lips into a smile. “You may just find yourself suited to serving tea yet. As you can see we have a performance hall, if you will. Currently the display is a more refined version of your old profession, but it can range from feats of strength and combat to sex and other displays of the flesh. As a server you will find yourself walking those stairs quite often. When you are finished with your tour today you will spend time walking up and down the stairs of the palace and you will be evaluated each day by other more experienced ladies or gentlemen of the harem. You will learn the preparation, presentation, and art of serving tea in the same manner. If your performance is acceptable, you will be permitted to serve the men and women who pay for and expect nothing but the best.”

“I understand, Mistress. Thank you for this opportunity,” Eina said quietly, doing her best to keep her posture appropriate next to the Matriarch, who comported herself as though she were in fact the reigning queen of Alhamkara. Eina supposed that within the harem at least, that might be true.

“You can thank me with impeccable service to our guests,” the Matriarch replied quietly. “Now then, allow me to show you the gardens. You will learn them as though they are the back of your paw so as to-” The Matriarch paused and looked out over the seating of the harem. After a second of silence she inclined her head politely towards a guest on the other side of the amphitheater. “Follow me, Eina. Speak only when spoken to and do not under any circumstances fail at the curtsey you were taught just now.”

It had felt like an eternity since Eina’s fight or flight response had engaged, sometime in a past life perhaps, but it came roaring back with a vengeance at the Matriarch’s words and tone. She’d been nothing but serious since Eina had met her, but there always seemed to be an underlying satisfaction and love for her job in everything she said and did. That levity was utterly gone, though her polite, welcoming smile remained as she led Eina around the circle to the stairway nearest the individual who had made eye contact with her. The man in question was a jackal with a serious face, dressed in royal purple with silver trim. She understood immediately as the Matriarch bent at the knee before him and lowered her head. “How may I be of service to you this evening, Lord Torando?”

The jackal looked past her and met Eina’s eyes instead, his gaze scrutinous and cold. She just barely managed to dip into a curtsey herself, not trusting herself to speak in his presence. “So, you are her? I expected to have to find you myself. She will accompany me to my private room,” the jackal said in an authoritarian, quiet tone. The Matriarch attempted to intervene.

“My Lord, she has only just joined us here and has not yet been trained to provide service in keeping with your status. Might I perhaps interest you in-”

“Last I checked, Matriarch, I remain betrothed to your princess, the Lady Keiko. She will accompany me, and I will not have you questioning my intentions again,” Tornado responded, his voice not allowing any compromise. “I know your rules. That you would consider me the type of person to break them is… insulting.”

Eina tried to keep herself from fainting, wondering if her heart and other organs would withstand the stress as the Matriarch salvaged the situation, bowing low to Torando with the same, pleasant smile on her face.

“It was never my intention to imply such a thing, Lord Torando. Please accept my humblest apologies as well as a bottle or box from the palaces reserves with my compliments,” she offered. He accepted the olive branch in keeping with diplomacy, though his expression did not mellow.

“Scotch. Second era, azure infused.”

“Would your lordship prefer Sunrise Distillery or Chateau Antares?”

“Antares,” the jackal replied immediately before standing from his seat, turning several eyes as he did so. Those eyes included two of the Sekhama, having recently entered the harem via the front entrance. “I will receive it when I am finished with her.”

“As you wish, Lord Torando,” the Matriarch replied, glancing once at Octavia and his rookie before turning to Eina. “It is a great honor to be requested by such a man. See to his every need.”

It wasn’t particularly difficult to interpret the Matriarch’s words as Eina curtseyed once more in due reverence. “It is my pleasure and honor to serve you this evening, Lord Torando. My name is Eina.”

“Come,” the jackal commanded with a snap of his fingers, leading her up the stairs and away from the central amphitheater. The Matriarch did not linger either, walking her way calmly to the nearest server and whispering something into her ear. That young woman stopped by a guard on her way back to the kitchens and conveyed the message, ensuring that Lord Torando would be ‘trusted but verified’ that evening. Meanwhile, Spot stood rooted to the ground as the woman he thought dead instead glanced his way for a fleeting second, just recognizing his face before being spirited away down the corridor to the wing of the harem that contained the baths and, among other destinations, Lord Torando’s personal quarters for the duration of his stay at the palace.

“Don’t so much as even follow her with your eyes,” Octavia growled threateningly, his hand on Spot’s shoulder as the rookie fought back his desire to move, to sprint. Stupid, youthful passions boiled to the surface as he realized that even without his arms and armor he could easily kill Torando. He wasn’t dumb enough to believe he’d survive the attempt however. The flame burned out just as quick as it had come, and he hung his shoulders instead. Octavia didn’t have the heart to tell him to not wear his emotions on his sleeve inside the harem. Not even he was that callous. “The Wise Ones seem content to both give and take away this evening,” he observed quietly as the Matriarch, no longer instructing her newest serving girl, slowly made her way over to them.

“I guess that’s what you meant by remembering my place?” Spot asked. The lion nodded.

“Our delights are their table scraps,” Idris confirmed as the Matriarch of the harem stood before them.

“Waxing poetic again, Idris?” she asked knowingly, offering him a fond smile before turning to Spot. “And this one was on the ground tonight?”

“He was. He was also the one who received your newest serving girl at the gates before her stint with Doctor Oswald,” Octavia supplied. If the Matriarch was moved by that tidbit of information she chose not to show it.

“I see. I trust you will enjoy what we have to offer here as much as your brothers,” she replied. “You have a name?”

“Spot,” the rookie replied, looking between her and Octavia as he pulled a blank.

“Spot? I’ll remember it. You may refer to me either as Matriarch or Mistress, my dear,” she clarified. “Might I suggest the baths? The Sekhama always seem to enjoy them.” He nodded, swallowed, and gave her her due in as level a voice as he could manage given how much life had thrown at him in the prior day.

“Thank you for welcoming me, Matriarch. If it’s all the same to you I think I’d like some fresh air. It smells a bit strongly in here,” he excused himself. It was true that the air smelled of azure, tobacco, jasmine, and other flowers, but she recognized the statement for what it was, glancing back at Octavia with an approving cock of her brow.

“The gardens are open to you, Spot. Enjoy your time here,” she offered, watching as the rookie turned and saluted Octavia silently, a hand over his heart, before beginning his walk around the central room, scrutinized by almost every pair of eyes in the place.

“Mmm, look at him, even keeping his back straight,” the hyena noted approvingly before turning back to Octavia. “Now, what’s got you so eager to see me, Idris, other than the obvious?”

“By humanity, I missed you,” he replied, a twang of need in his voice. She picked up on it immediately and placed her hand on his upper arm before escorting him towards the same corridor Torando has disappeared through minutes before. On the way she signaled one of her more seasoned staff and conveyed a handful of instructions to her. She crooned seductively at him. “There, now I can give you my full attention this evening.”