Honored Vow

your maahes, my new semel. I will make him
    proud.”
    But it wasn’t my influence; I didn’t even have a chance to speak to
    Domin. He had claimed Ebere so fast, seemingly without thought, as
    though he had already decided. I had no idea why. And while the act itself
    was good, I could not for the life of me grasp the reason.
    “Will you name your sheseru and sylvan?”
    “I will name them from the household of the semel-netjer but will
    need to ponder the choice before making my claim, Your Grace.”
    Hamid Shamon stared at Domin Thorne, at a man he had not thought
    to share his home in Egypt with. He had wanted Logan because of the
    kind of man he was, but also because Logan was mated to me. He wanted
    the only nekhene cat in existence close to him. But as he gazed down at
    Domin, the strength in the man, the rippling energy that sparked off him,
    was impossible to ignore.
    “Let us all hail the new master of Sobek, the semel-aten, Domin
    Thorne.”
    The applause was deafening, and I let my head fall back on my
    shoulders as I closed my eyes. It was over. The sepat was finally,
    completely, finished. And my mate was coming home with me.
    I couldn’t have stopped the tears if I tried.

    252

    Mary Calmes

    THE receiving hall of the tribe of Khertet was massive. Carved out of the
    rock, it managed to be both elegant and rustic at the same time. There
    were furs on the stone floors and on the walls, and wrought-iron
    chandeliers hung from the beams of wood criss-crossing the ceiling. I had
    seen it the first day when I had walked through the home of the semel of
    Khertet with the other mates of the semels. So I knew what I would be
    missing when I sent Crane with my regrets that my mate and I would not
    be attending the priest directly after the close of the final challenge. We
    needed to be alone. He told everyone I was sick, and really, I was. Just the
    smell of the damp air in the cave threatened to flip my stomach over.
    I had waited with everyone else right outside the entrance to the pit
    after the final trial was concluded, but unlike the others, I was alone. No
    one came near me, and that was fine with me, all of them more interested
    in talking to Domin.
    The priest was disappointed, I could tell, and his eyes never fell on
    me. Jamal and Shahid would not look at me, and to every other panther
    there, I was the monster who had pulled them through their shift the day
    before. I had never felt more like an outsider.
    So I was standing apart from the group when Domin and Logan
    came to join everyone after they had bathed and changed.
    There was applause from every corner, the priest was there to greet
    my former maahes, and Jamal was close at his side. Their exchange was
    warm and genuine, and when the others asked permission to approach, it
    was granted.
    Yuri was being patient, not wanting to muscle his way through, but
    the second the priest allowed others close, he moved quickly through the
    crowd and flung himself at my former maahes. I watched Yuri’s jaw
    clench before he buried his face down in Domin’s shoulder, trembling
    only slightly. Mikhail was there, then, and Danny, Andrian, and Taj, and
    Yusuke, with her hand in Crane’s. My tribe embraced Domin, and I was
    happy and sad. I would miss him, and I had just gotten around to truly
    liking him.
    It was Domin’s moment, and I was glad, because he was restored to
    his birthright of semel in splendid, legendary style. But me being there,

    Honored Vow

    253

    adding my voice, was meaningless. It didn’t matter, not really. I was only
    critical to one man, and he was all I saw.
    Logan squeezed Domin’s shoulders as he walked by him, giving him
    that affirmation of closeness before he left. He didn’t pause to speak to
    anyone else.
    The sepat was over, and so was anyone else’s dominion over the
    semel-netjer. We were both free.
    His eyes were warm gold as he came forward, and I noticed the fluid
    stride, the play of flexing, rippling muscles, and the clench of his jaw.
    He didn’t speak, and as he strode toward me, I noted the silence that
    fell over the assembled throng. There was not an eye not on Logan
    Church, and in that second, I understood what the priest had wanted.
    Logan looked like a king. He had the demeanor of royalty; you
    noticed strength and power, a virile, pulsing energy that took your breath
    away. The man was a rock; he looked like shelter and home and safety. It
    could not be taught, the look, the bearing, the