Chapter One
“Ididn’t open this communication, sir.” Gideon gave his employer a pocket database computer on a metallic tray carved with intricate designs. “All other business and social engagements and communications have been dealt with. Your brother sends word from Tigerite-Four that—”
“I don’t want to hear what Memhet says. My father may care, but I don’t.
Memhet isn’t going to find a Queen and produce an heir before I do.
Not after this.” Farhet, a massive Leonid with a dark red mane and bright golden fur, held out the computer in triumph.
“I’ve been accepted by Bastet Mercy, Gideon. My human surrogate awaits.”
“Congratulations, sir. How long will you be gone?”
Farhet tapped and scrolled on the screen, eyes glowing with triumph.
“Less than a cycle, I suspect. I’ll take the long-range shuttle to the beginning of the Leopardine System and meet with the pioneering scientist on his mobile clinic.
Let’s see... A week there. A week back..
. They say it might take up to six cycles, but that’s foolishness.
People simply aren’t efficient. I imagine it’s the laziness of the humans. They’re stubborn and slow-witted.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but if that is so, then why—”
“Because I’m forty, Gideon, and I have a Pride to take control of.
That means assuming control in the most expedient manner and procuring an heir before more time is wasted.
I’m not able to simply give up on the idea of an heir—unlike you, who has no hope of securing a Queen.
Nor am I going to delay, like my brother, who is foolish enough to believe that the Queens who are still able to bear cubs—young beauties of eighteen and nineteen—will pick someone like him when there are richer, younger Felids who can offer them far more.
No, I’ve been assured that the techniques they use with the surrogates pass on very few human traits.
The child will look fully Felid—with slight coloring variations.
Nothing as—” Farhet’s eyes met his and skirted away.
Gideon held his tongue with an effort, knowing what his employer intended to say.
Nothing as noticeable as having Pantherite blood.
His hands flexed around the handles of the mithrium tea tray, dark black fur covering them, unheard of on a Leonid—and yet present on him.
Black silky mane that flowed down, not out.
White speckling through his legs and down his back.
A genetic lottery that offered no prizes.
No Queen would ever take him, not when there were specimens that didn’t carry the risk of a generations-old recessive gene giving his fatal coloring.
Farhet turned and faced the stained lumenglass windows of the palatial office.
“I should probably take the human Queen some sort of token gift from our Province. Pick up something suitable when you are at the market, Gideon. I have to go see Father and tell him that he mustn’t worry any longer.
At last, he can name a successor to lead this Pride—me. ”
“Very good, sir.” Gideon stepped back, his words still forming when his employer sped past, chortling and rubbing his paws.
Once Farhet was out of sight, Gideon’s face changed from one of careful deference to a mixture of envy, confusion, and disgust.
Memhet is doing this the honorable way. He will find a Queen one day, and woo her, and win her. They’ll have cubs and fill this Pride with joy again.
Farhet... Greedy and proud, always takes the shortcut. I cannot get him out of a mess this time, so let us hope he’s not making one.
Gideon quickly tidied up the breakfast tray on the desk, made sure the decanters were full in the office, and checked for any new communications, his dark furred hands and simple cream-colored houseman’s uniform standing out in all the jewel-toned opulence of the Imazi Estate.
Soon it will be the Farhet Estate, once Master Imazi sees that one of his sons has produced an heir... Farhet will become even more insufferable.
What in the universe does one get for a human Queen to thank her for bearing your son or daughter? A castle full of gems would not be enough for such a gift.
Bitterness threatened to stop him in his tracks, and he had too much to do to let such sad thoughts overwhelm him.
No Queen will pick a servant, even one with a fancy title like personal secretary and assistant, not when even the poorest Queen can marry a governor or tycoon.
No Leonid will pick you, not when your great-great-grandmother was a Pantherite.
It doesn’t matter that you likely can’t pass it on, or that there are plenty of Felids marrying other races—even Canids, even Avians!
Even humans now. In a few generations, we will have more unique colors and patterns in our fur than these stuffy Leonids from Imazi Hills on Leonid-One could ever imagine.
No one talks about it. No one treats me differently. If I were in another city, or another planet, maybe it wouldn’t be so obvious. But it’s obvious here, in the cream of the upper classes, side by side with Farhet.
Farhet is going to buy an heir.
I’ll probably raise the child. Mr. Imazi is so frail now, and soon Farhet will run this district. Fully run this house. Run everything.
Gideon stood frozen in the doorway to the majestic garden.
What do human Queens like, anyway?
He turned and went back inside the house. Before shopping—research.