Honored Vow

gasped.
    “Logan’s not gonna do what?”
    I looked back at the ring, saw Domin and Ammon rush forward and
    meet, Ammon tearing at the werepanther that Domin was and him fighting
    back with his fangs and claws. Ammon’s maahes, the formidable Vincent
    Rector, the hired gun, the ringer, went to the ground fast under Logan’s
    superior strength and power. Any cat versus a semel was no challenge at
    all, and even though Logan had not shifted, had remained in his panther
    form, it didn’t matter. Had he been fighting Ammon, the shift would have
    been necessary, but now I understood. If he had fought Rector in his
    werepanther form, the challenge would have been forfeit, but since he
    hadn’t, the challenge was valid. Once Logan had the large panther pinned
    to the floor of the pit, he held him there, immobile, and looked over at
    Ammon and Domin, as we all did.
    The priest had thought that there were only two semels in the pit; it
    was why Logan had asked Danny to make sure the law was repeated….
    The semel who killed the semel-aten then became the new semel-
    aten, that was the law. And Logan had made sure it had been spoken, to

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    Mary Calmes

    ensure Domin’s claim. Because there were not two semels in the pit of the
    tribe of Khertet: there were three.
    People forgot that even though Logan Church had ended the lineage
    of the house of Menhit, had disbanded Domin’s tribe, he had not, could
    not, make Domin Thorne any less of a semel. No one remembered who
    Domin Thorne really was. When tribal leaders fought, semels were killed,
    and they changed often, no one truly caring about another tribe but their
    own. And maybe the priest could recall that Domin had once led his own
    tribe and maybe he couldn’t, but he, and everyone else in attendance, were
    about to be reminded.
    You were either born a semel or not, and Domin had been born to
    lead, with all the power and strength and the true form of the station, the
    werepanther.
    Ammon El Masry screamed in rage; he had wanted Logan, and here,
    in the final act, still he would be denied. Because unlike nekhene, which
    meant that I was different and that power lived in me, semel-aten was just
    a title. It did not make Ammon El Masry stronger than any other semel. It
    definitely did not make him stronger than a man who had changed and
    grown from the proud, scared, vicious creature he had been into the kind
    and gentle prince of his tribe. Losing his tribe had been the best thing that
    ever happened to Domin, but now he was ready to lead, and Logan, it
    seemed, agreed, because he wanted him to be semel-aten.
    Ammon flexed his muscle and power through others, through orders;
    Domin used his own. I knew the second the killing stroke was delivered. I
    saw the surprise flicker over the semel-aten’s face, saw the hatred and rage
    and disbelief before his mouth opened and blood leaked out. He was dead
    when he hit the ground.
    The silence was frightening before Domin turned, blood dripping
    from his claws, smeared across his fur, and looked up at the priest.
    Domin shifted back to human form, as did Logan and Vincent, and
    each man knelt down on one knee.
    I had no idea that so many people could go silent. No one even
    breathed in the room.
    “I had thought,” the priest finally began, rising to his feet, “to
    proclaim the semel-netjer as the new semel-aten, as I had thought that the
    man who ruled the nekhene was most fit to be semel-aten, but it seems
    that Logan Church and I never had the same agenda.”

    Honored Vow

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    “No, you did not,” Domin answered, his voice strong and resonant as
    he rose from where he had been kneeling to his full height. “My brother
    wants to lead his tribe on his land and care for his reah and his family and
    his people. It is all he has ever wanted. As he remade me in his image, as I
    will always have his counsel as well as the counsel of his reah, Jin Rayne,
    I ask that you now proclaim me semel-aten, as I have won that right in
    combat by my victory in the sepat.”
    The priest looked down at Domin Thorne. “What of Ammon El
    Masry’s household?”
    “I claim Ebere El Masry as mastaba, mistress of my house.”
    I had thought it was strange that Ebere was sitting one tier below me,
    as our mates were facing off in life and death combat in the pit, but now I
    was glad as I leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder.
    She curled her fingers around mine. “Bless you, Jin. I know this is
    your influence, and bless