Honored Vow

by another.”
    “She will have nothing! Her clothes will be burned; I will not have
    them given to her! She will not be allowed to contact her family, as they
    are members of my tribe! She is dead to me and to the tribe of Reshep.
    There is only khet.”
    I understood that he was in a fury; he was completely out of control,
    as he had just been through the same ordeal that Logan had. But whereas
    my semel had retained his humanity, Hiroshi had not. If only he had food
    and sleep, if only he had waited and not been so rash, if only he had taken
    a breath before attacking, his head might have cleared and he would have
    remembered how much he cherished and adored his beloved yareah.
    Instead, he had maimed the woman who was his mate.
    “Logan Church,” the priest called to my semel. “You will have to
    feed and clothe and care for the former yareah of the tribe of Reshep. She
    might someday try and kill you for what has transpired here today. Are
    you aware of the danger that—”
    “She will not,” Logan said, cutting the priest off. “I apologize for my
    impertinence, Your Grace, but she cannot blame me for any that was
    brought on her this day. Her semel, and her semel alone, has mauled her
    and marked her for death. I will claim her and give her life.”
    “So be it,” the priest agreed, and he raised his hand, palm up, to
    present her to Logan.
    Hiroshi Narae stepped back from the bleeding, inert body of his
    yareah. Her tears had mixed with blood, and she was trying to cover her
    nakedness from prying eyes, and her modesty in the face of the horror that
    had been visited on her made my heart hurt.

    Honored Vow

    227

    “Crane,” Logan said.
    He moved fast.
    My best friend was met at the fallen woman by a member of the tribe
    of Khertet, who offered him a soft fur robe. He thanked the man, spread
    the cloak gently, slowly lifted Yusuke, and then tenderly wrapped her up.
    He stood up with her in his arms as though she weighed nothing, and as he
    walked back to us, he began speaking to her.
    “Take her to our quarters,” Logan told him, and Crane gave him a
    slight nod as he walked by, holding her tighter, her head turned now,
    tucked under his chin.
    I took a stuttering breath and leaned into Logan’s side.
    He clutched at me, and I felt the tremor run though him.
    “Tomorrow at noon the challenge for the seat of semel-aten will
    commence. Logan Church and Domin Thorne of the tribe of Mafdet will
    face Ammon El Masry and his maahes, Rector Vincent, of the tribe of
    Rahotep, in the pit to decide who will be master of Sobek. May the semel
    most deserving be granted the grace of Ra.”
    I already knew who that was.

    THE sylvan of the tribe of Reshep, Morimoto Arai, and the sheseru, Fuwa
    Kenichi, both came with all of Yusuke’s belongings that she had brought
    with her to Mongolia. They both bowed low to me, asking that I please
    keep her out of their semel’s sight, as they had been told to burn all her
    things but could not, in good conscience, do so. They had done their duty,
    as honor demanded, and followed the orders of their semel to hold her
    down as he gnawed on her face, gouged her flesh with his claws, and bit
    through her right eye and cheek. They could do no more to her; it had
    already crossed the line into torture and abomination. As I looked at them,
    I realized that they had both very recently been violently sick.
    She had only one suitcase; they would send other things when, and
    if, they could.
    I bowed low. “Thank you.”
    They bowed back and then were gone. There was no time to linger
    lest someone see them. I took the suitcase inside the ger to where Yusuke
    lay sleeping. Even when she had drifted off, she had not released Crane’s

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    Mary Calmes

    hand. As I looked at him, I realized how content he looked as he studied
    her face.
    She was strong, and she shifted as fast as Logan could, which was to
    say pretty damn fast. She had been able to morph back and forth six times
    before she was too exhausted and passed out. There was now a slash
    across the patch of pink skin covering her right eye. The entire right side
    of her face was criss-crossed with scars, but they were not grooves, as I
    had thought they would be; instead they were raised lines that cut across
    otherwise smooth porcelain skin.
    I had heard her begging at first to be allowed to take her own life,
    whimpering softly, urging Crane to hear her. She even lifted fingers to his
    face. He covered her little