A Lion's Heart

by Kracken

  Shakra stood up, hands clenched into fists and nails digging into his palms. “He speaks. He saved my life. He is a were like any other and worthy of the same respect.”

  “Are you sure?” Armandu stepped out from behind the tables holding a flapping hen. He tossed it into the center of the tables onto the floor and the servants scattered as it landed with a loud squawk. Almost faster than the eye could follow, Tamarind was leaping from his seat, bounding over the tables, and latching onto the hen with hands, claws, and teeth. He bit into steaming hot blood and juicy meat and began tearing the hen into chunks, swallowing quickly before anyone could react.

  “Are you sure he is the same as any were?” Armandu repeated with a smile.

  Kol looked disgusted as the blood and feathers began to spread away from Tamarind's graphic meal. Shakra stared, astonished. It was Kyrill who stepped forward gingerly, tail band flashing and a bright smile on his face.

  “The prides enjoy a bounty of fresh meat on the Savannah and they like the challenge of the hunt,” Kyrill explained. “I think it shows their strength and grace, don't you? Of course, it's messy, but go to the kitchens sometime and you will see it is not much better there before the meat is cooked and served to you.” His tail waved gently. “Because their ways are different from ours, it does not make them savages.”

  Bones crunched loudly between Tamarind's sharp teeth as he finished off the bird. He sat up then and began cleaning himself with his tongue as he watched everyone warily.

  Armandu smiled and said. “All the pretty words in the world won't make a lie of what our eyes see, Kyrill N’jhaleen.”

  Warden Kol looked pointedly from Tamarind to Shakra and then he ordered, “Guards, take the werelion and confine him.”

  “Ignore that order,” Shakra snapped.

  The guards hesitated, uncertain. Kol and Shakra faced off. Kol saw something in Shakra's face that was unbending. He frowned, not sure what to make of it, and then his expression went guarded as he gave a small bow and said, “I'm sure my Prince will keep him in order. I suppose there is precedence for princes keeping exotic... pets.”

  Kyrill looked uncertain and then he was suddenly confident. “Tamarind is starved. He's probably been in captivity for days without his accustomed food. I think we can all forgive him his eagerness?”

  There were a few sympathetic nods, but for the most part everyone was looking wary and sickened.

  “Come, Tamarind,” Shakra ordered as he walked around the tables. “We can eat in private.”

  Tamarind left behind a pile of blood and feathers as he licked his sharp claws and followed Shakra. Once they were away from the hall, Shakra turned and confronted Tamarind.

  “Why did you do that?” Shakra demanded hotly. “I can't believe you didn't know better. Do you pull down water buck and drag them into your home to tear apart?”

  Tamarind wasn’t embarrassed. “The little werefox was right, I haven't eaten in days. The werecheetahs thought weakening me would make me easier to handle.” His eyes glowed with temper. “They were wrong.”

  “Now you speak!” Shakra seethed. “What was it that kept you from speaking to Shang, to Warden Kol, to me?”

  “I didn’t trust any of you,” Tamarind replied simply.

  “And now you do trust me?” Shakra wondered.

  Tamarind's ears flicked in annoyance and then he replied, “You defended me when it wasn't to your advantage.”

  “Don't make me sorry that I did,” Shakra warned, but then relented. “Come with me. One hen can't have filled your belly. Are you that opposed to eating cooked meat?”

  “Cooked... I've never had meat... cooked,” Tamarind replied uncertainly.

  “Can you at least try it before I try to find a place where you can slaughter my cook's chickens?” Shakra asked.

  Tamarind thought about it, recalling the disgusted looks of the others weres. “Alright, I'll try.”

  “Good, I'll have the cook send food to my rooms,” Shakra told him in relief. “I think you made enough of a public appearance today.”

  Back in Shakra's rooms, he gave Tamarind a rag and some water to clean himself. Tamarind did so with the fastidiousness of any house cat, seeming not to like too much of the water on his skin, but liking to be clean all the same. When he was done, he curled up before the fire. He looked at Shakra expectantly, as if he was the prince and Shakra was his servant.

  Shakra scowled, but he ordered their food and, when it came, he served the werelion himself and sent the servant out of the room. Putting cooked chicken on a plate and plain water in a cup, he placed it before Tamarind on a low table. Tamarind sniffed at it curiously, but his ears were back.

  “Try it,” Shakra urged as he began to take a small piece himself. He almost pulled back a stub as Tamarind clutched at the plate possessively and showed fangs threateningly. “All right, pig!” Shakra growled back and stepped away to give the werelion his space.

  Tamarind sniffed the chicken again, wrinkled his nose, and then tentatively gnawed, not using his hands at all. It was very savage looking and Shakra winced, wondering if Armandu might be right about some of what he had been saying.

  “It tastes strange,” Tamarind complained. “It doesn't taste fresh and it's hot.”

  “You'll get used to it,” Shakra told him.

  “I don't want to get used to it! I am not a carrion bird!” Tamarind suddenly shouted and tossed the entire chicken at Shakra's head. Shakra ducked and it slapped soddenly against a wall. Tamarind yanked at his collar and chain. “I am not a beast. I am not a cat! I will not be chained. I will not eat meat that has been left from someone else's kill! I may be an orphan, but I was of the Sun pride and I will not shame the females who raised me!”

  “You are an ungrateful savage!” Shakra snarled back, short ruffed raised. “I saved you. I protected you! I fed you!”

  “You have enslaved me,” Tamarind said in a quiet, dispirited voice. “I am just as much a captive now as I was a captive of the werecheetahs. If your Warden has his way, I will be someone's rug soon enough or caged for their amusement.”

  Tamarind was lying down now, face turned towards the fire, chain snaking away from him and reddish brown fur fiery in the light. His sides were heaving and Shakra wondered if he were crying. He couldn't imagine the tough, fierce werelion doing that, though.

  “I promised that I would help you return to your home,” Shakra told him. “I keep my promises.”

  Tamarind replied sullenly, “I heard that you were not in any position to make them.”

  Shakra went blind with anger. He kept very still, letting it boil through him, letting the tension in his balled fists and his nails driving into the skin of his palms take the brunt of his need to retaliate. If Shang had taught him anything, it was not to strike out in anger, especially when a blow from him could all too easily kill.

  When Shakra trusted his voice again, he said, “There are people here who think that they rule, but I am the Prince of this land and it is my word that is law. They will find that out very soon.”

  “In the prides,” Tamarind told him, “The strongest male leads the pride and mates with the females. I don't think it is any different here.”

  “I am strong,” Shakra told him, “Stronger than Warden Kol realizes”

  There was silence. The last of Shakra’s anger left him. He looked regretfully at the mangled chicken and then settled on a cushion near the werelion. “Do you think that your people are looking for you?” he wondered. “I could send a messenger to them-”

  “No, they won't be looking for me,” Tamarind replied shortly.

  “No?” Shakra was puzzled. He tried to piece together the few things that Tamarind and Kyrill had said about the prides. “If they knew, if they could send people to meet Kyrill's caravan, it would hasten your return home.”

  Tamarind's tail flicked in agitation. It was a long moment before he said, “If what you say is true, and I am allowed to return home, I would not be returning t
o the Sun Pride. I was driven out by the pride leader, Katze.”

  “Driven out?” Shakra echoed.

  The tail curled about Tamarind, the tufted end near his nose as if he wanted to hide behind it. “I did not challenge his right to the females. I don't know why he drove me out of the pride.”

  “Were there other males your age?” Shakra wondered.

  “Yes, when I left,” Tamarind replied thoughtfully. “Kiva and an older male named Geden. Kiva had Ruth, one of the females, but Geden was too old to want any of them. I don't know why Katze would let Kiva stay and make me leave.”

  Shakra considered that and the anguished tone Tamarind tried to hide. “Perhaps your politics were not what he desired.”

  Tamarind did look at him then, frowning. “I don't understand.”

  “And that might have been the problem,” Shakra told him. “Did this Kiva talk about anything outside of the Pride?”

  Tamarind nodded. “Many times. He thought we were backward and that we should stop living in the tall grass.”

  “And what did you think about that?” Shakra wanted to know.

  Tamarind scowled. “It was stupid!” he growled, flexing claws. “What's better than open sky, a warm sun, and the Savannah?”

  Shakra understood political intrigue and bringing allies close. “You're lucky that Katze didn't kill you.”

  Tamarind hissed in contempt. “The females wouldn't allow it. Katze can lead, but they would kill him to protect their cubs.” He blushed and looked away. “Even grown cubs.”

  Shakra thought about that, but he didn't stay silent long. It seemed that a meal made Tamarind relaxed enough to talk. He had to take advantage of that. “If females are so protective, then what made you an orphan?”

  Tamarind curled up as if to protect his heart. “I don't remember. The females told me that they saw me wandering with a gang of older males, but starving for milk. One day, they found me without them and that's when they adopted me into their pride.”

  He was a savage from the Savannah without even a family name to call his own, and recently part of a pride that was declaring war on Shakra's people. Shakra couldn't have chosen a more unfit companion to be seen with. Kyrill was at least wealthy, learned, and perfectly well mannered. This child of the prides killed live chickens in the dining hall and licked his claws afterward without concern. Common sense told Shakra to turn him over to Armandu and beg his warden's pardon. Common sense told him that he was making a mistake that might make his people see him in an unfavorable light. Common sense told him that Tamarind was dangerous and that he was a fool for getting anywhere near his claws and teeth. A teacher had once told him, though, to follow his emotions, to listen to his heart, and that it would seldom lead him astray. He had rarely found Shang to be wrong.

  Shakra cautiously moved even closer to the werelion. Tamarind twitched and rose to a crouch as if he might take a swipe with his sharp claws. Very slowly, Shakra crouched below Tamarind's level, submissive, and took hold of the iron collar. Tamarind tensed and his ears went back. Shakra found the latch, felt the tiny lock that needed a key. He flexed his strong muscles and the latch parted with the sound of stressed metal and pins. Tamarind twisted out of the thing and fell backwards almost into the fire. He was panting and wide eyed.

  Shakra held his hands out in a non-threatening gesture, put chain and collar down, and backed away as he said, “I am making a promise, here and now, that I will see you back to your home, alive and well.”

  Tamarind exclaimed in consternation,” Why?”

  “Because, it's the right thing to do,” Shakra replied, but he thought, as the werelion settled again, looking mystified, that he couldn't bear for anyone to hurt the were. It shook him, that realization, but he knew that it was the plain truth. Somehow, the werelion had become important to him, more important than politics or winning favor with anyone, including Warden Kol.

  Chapter Five

  Li’Won Shang finally made his appearance just as Tamarind was beginning to calm down. The werelion was instantly on the alert again when the werelizard was let in by Shakra.

  Shang was not pleased. His dark brows were drawn down and his mouth was in a straight, tight line. “Warden Kol would not allow me to return to you until I had instructed all of the keep guards in ways to subdue and defend against a werelion. It took longer than I suspected to tell them all to pray to their ancestors, because there was no defense short of a suicidal frontal assault.”

  Shakra blinked, stunned. He looked at where Tamarind was crouching by the fire, ears down and his expression sullen. He didn't look like the killing creature that Shang was describing. “Full grown lions-” Shakra began in confusion, but Shang snorted, cutting him off.

  “You should know me well enough to realize that I do not indulge in hysterics,” Shang berated him. “The werelion is not a werewolf, fox, or cheetah. His claws are razor sharp and he has four sets of them. His teeth are daggers. His speed is far beyond anything you can imagine. If he were to pounce on your person, my Prince, not even your dagger would be able to save you. He would disembowel you before you could take in breath to scream.”

  Tamarind tucked his tail around himself. He looked small, too young, and his eyes were uncertain and almost fearful. The werecheetahs had defeated him with cunning. Brute strength and sharp claws had not won him the day there. Shakra had secured his own safety with a better weapon than edged steel or sharp teeth. He had used truth and honor.

  “He isn't a wild lion,” Shakra replied angrily. “He does speak and he does understand the situation he is in.”

  Shang scoffed as his one hand tightened on the hilt of his knife unconsciously. “I do doubt that, my Prince. I also doubt that you understand the grave situation that you find yourself in. You are in direct rebellion with Warden Kol. You made him lose face in front of your people. You are keeping a creature he considers an enemy.”

  “Will he will move against me?” Shakra wondered sharply.

  Shang shook his head and the spines on his crest twitched in agitation. “He's trained you to be a warrior prince, but it was never his intention that you rule. If you show yourself unfit for that position, he is pleased. This, though,” He gestured at Tamarind and Tamarind snarled. “Defying him is quite another thing entirely. He will seek to correct you, to put you back in your place. I don't doubt that he will make that attempt very public. Your humiliation will secure his power.”

  Shakra balled his hands into fists, his ruff rising with his anger. “I am no one's tool.”

  “Dog,” Tamarind snorted and both werewolf and werelion glared at him. “I've seen the dogs the werecheetahs keep,” he told them. “They come when they are called, eat thrown scraps, and protect when necessary. You are his dog, it seems.”

  Shakra's anger sizzled along every hair, every nerve, but it was Shang's next words that snuffed that raging fire out instantly, “Prince Shakra is no one's dog. Warden Kol will discover that soon enough.”

  Tamarind huddled and looked away.

  Shang didn't let it drop. “You insult your savior. That isn't wise.” He nodded to the collar and chain. “He has freed you against all wisdom. He defies his warden and his people for you. He has endangered his very life for you.”

  “It isn't insult,” Tamarind replied quietly. “Simple truth. The savannah isn't so complicated. We are all free, we make our own decisions, and we lead our own lives. We fight. We mate. We hunt. We do not built cities and live where there isn't any fresh meat. We-”

  “Perhaps that used to be true,” Shang cut him off. “But it isn't any longer. Your pride leader is gathering the other prides. He is making alliances and killing those who stand in his way. He will bring the prides into the forests to kill us and he will sweep the deserts clean to claim all of it for the werelions.” His dark eyes narrowed at Tamarind. “That is truth. Perhaps you would like to tell us more truths and explain why he let you live, when he has killed so many others? Why would he kill the males from Lake Wina
go, who were sired by him and opposed him, and let a half-maned lion cub, not related to him, live?”

  Shakra was astonished, “How do you know this?”

  “We have our spies,” Shang explained, never taking his eyes from Tamarind. “Spies who saw Katze drive this young one out when he decided to voice his unpopular political views to the wrong werelion.”

  “Kiva,” Tamarind muttered and his pain and anger were evident. “I...” he choked and then tried again. “I didn't know that was why I was driven away. I did not think saying what I thought was a threat to a werelion like Katze.”

  “So,” Shang said unsympathetically. “You see, cub, that things are very similar now, but for one exception, acting and saying the wrong things here will not result in your being chased out of our lands, but rather, it will cause you to be executed. I trust that there will not be any more displays of your anger, poor choice of words, or your hunting prowess before Prince Shakra's warden and his people again.” He turned to Shakra. “My Prince, now that you fully understand what the situation is, I urge you to get rid of this creature as quickly as you can. Warden Kol will not win the day if you do not give him weapons against you.”

  Tamarind rose and paced to the door, looking at them both expectantly. “I do want out,” he said, tail twitching. “I can't sleep here. I can't stay here locked in these walls. I need the night air and open spaces. Let me go and I will hunt and care for myself until the desert fox journeys to my land.”

  Shakra forgot anger, forgot the promise of danger, and felt trepidation claw at him. Why did he feel so strongly for a werelion? Why did the thought of Tamarind wandering the forest alone fill him with dread? “You won't be safe,” he argued. “Warden Kol may send weres out to find you. There are dangerous creatures in the forest that you don't know anything about.”

  Tamarind grinned suddenly, fierce and daring. “I am a shadow when I wish to be. I am silent, I am strong. I-”