Excerpt The Lion & the Swan

THE LION & THE SWAN

“What ails you, Black Mane?” his brother, the

Cheetah, asked as Asad pulled harder at his robe.

“My betrothal nears,” Asad said with a low

growl, “and I can see no way free of it.” He glanced back over his

shoulder at the women’s table and eyed the Fox, his intended, who

wore a gown of russet weave that pushed her fleshy breasts up to

almost spilling out of the tight, low-cut bodice. The last time he

had seen her, she had been a girl of ten and five who had liked her

sweets as much as she disliked the word no, and by the way she had

indulged in the honeyed dates that were the last of the

seven-course feast, she had not changed much in the three years

since.

“Duty and honor to family and kingdom,” Asad

said as much to himself as to his brother, “all require that I sit

here like a sacrificial goat and let myself be bound and

caged.”

“At least the Fox will be your first wife of

seven,” the Cheetah offered with his cursed calm.

Asad huffed and then cocked his head. There

was a rustling beyond the path that led from the stage of polished

sandstone into the dark shadows of the garden. The still air moved,

and he caught the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine. He sat

forward on his haunches as the Jackal, a thin, balding man with a

nervous twitch of a smile, stood from his stool at the king’s table

and held his cup high. The Jackal had threatened his household with

beatings if the secret of his dowry gift was revealed before this

evening, but Asad’s manservant, the Crab, knew every servant in

every palace of the Seven Tribes, and had the entire story before

sunset, though they had only arrived that noon.

The gift, the first and most valuable of

seven to be given, were two sisters from the far north called the

Swan and the Dove, whose pale, otherworldly beauty left the

menservants speechless, the maids jealous, and the women of the

household sour with envy, especially the Fox of the Swan.

The sisters had tried to escape twice

already, and had made it as far as the city’s third wall the first

time, and the stables the second, after which they had both been

thrown into hot holes. They had been sentenced to three days in the

deep pits dug into the ground and covered with tightly slatted palm

fronds that could sweat the water out of a full-grown man in five

days, but the Swan had become ill in two and the Jackal had been

forced to pull her out or lose her. Tonight, she would sing and

dance for the gathering, and her sister, the Dove, would play the

harp and sing. Then they would be given by the Jackal to the

Panther as dowry for the Fox’s betrothal to the Black Mane: eldest

son to eldest daughter, as was tradition.

“Welcome, friends,” the Jackal said, his

tongue darting out and sweeping across his thin lips. “Welcome to

my home on this Summer’s Eve.” Claps and loud murmurs broke out all

around the courtyard and the Jackal raised his cup higher. “I am

honored to host this, the hundredth gathering of the tribes. For

the next twenty and one days my home is yours.” His lips twitched

up and he licked them again before nodding to the Panther. “And

now, my honored guests, I bring to you the Swan and the Dove.”

A bare foot, as white as milk, arched out of

the garden’s shadows and stepped onto the torch-lit path, the trim

ankle turned just so, the calf long and leanly muscled, the knee as

well turned as the ankle. Asad sucked in his breath as shimmering

panels of white weave parted from a thigh as long and lean as an

alabaster column. He let his breath out slow and measured, watching

the graceful sway of shapely hips that nipped up to a slim waist

draped with a finely wrought gold chain. A sheer bodice gathered

beneath breasts as round and firm as pomegranates, and collarbones

of chiseled ivory winged out from the one-shouldered gown to arms

as long and lean as the legs they swung in time with.

A veil of hair as pale as moonlight framed

high, angular cheeks, and finely drawn brows, a darker shade of

pale, arched over eyes as big and round as mossy river rocks. Eyes

that met his and held, and studied him as keenly as he studied

her.

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