Crucible of Fate

correctly. “You have lost your mind.”
    “No.” He lifted one golden eyebrow as he stared into my eyes. “Listen and then tell me what you want to do.”
    And as he had spoken to me on the long flight to Beijing, I wondered if he even knew what he was talking about.
    “What if something goes wrong? What if you and I aren’t in the pit at the same time? What if it’s just you and Ammon El Masry, the semel-aten, at the end, Logan?”
    He shook his head. “It won’t be. It can’t be. He’ll want a guarantee that I’ll die. He’ll want to make sure. The law says that the semel-aten can challenge me alone or have his maahes with him as well. That’s how he’ll do it, I have no doubt.”
    “But he’ll find someone else, Logan,” I insisted. “If he really wants you dead, he’ll find a ringer, he’ll get someone from another tribe.”
    “That won’t matter,” he guaranteed. “Any cat that’s not a semel, I can subdue. You’re the one who’ll have to kill Ammon. Can you do that?”
    Could I?
    Had everything led me to a place where leading was again possible? Was I ready to step out of Logan’s shadow and take a stand? Did I have the faith in myself that he had in me?
    On the high of his praise and faith and love, I gave my answer. “Yes.”
    Logan smiled, so obviously pleased. “You’re going to be amazing.”
    My prayer had been that he would be right.
    It all happened so fast. I became semel-aten and everything fell into place exactly as Logan had said it would. But now I was in Sobek, the ancient werepanther city, semel of the tribe of Rahotep, the tribe of the semel-aten, and everyone was expecting me to lead. They all thought I would just instinctively know what to do and… and instead I was drowning. I was in way over my head and cursing Logan Church because the man was a selfish son of a bitch.
    He made me semel-aten because even though he was the best choice for the role, he didn’t want to do it. There was no doubt in my mind that Logan would have done a better job than me.
    I shared my thoughts with Yuri but no one else. Even as everything threatened to crash down around me, he was the only one I trusted with that secret.
     
     
    T HE problem was that even though they knew me, with my change of status, the people I brought with me suddenly expected me to simply know what to do. It was, I imagined, what happened when one became a parent. All at once you were expected to know things no one would ever suppose you needed to know otherwise. The weight of their scrutiny made me lash out.
    That morning, as I took my usual walk with those closest to me—my maahes, my sylvan, and my sheseru—I was again venting my frustration. There was no way to stop it. I’d tried, but even with all good intentions, the minute they turned to me for guidance, I got pissed and lashed out. I was a horror to be around and I knew it. I was the biggest of asshats to Crane Adams, my maahes, prince of my tribe. Normally, he gave it back with both barrels. He could speak up for himself. Why he hadn’t, why he was just taking whatever I dished out, had been bothering me for the past month. I was ready to have it out with him once and for all.
    “So, this Elham,” I said softly as I walked the villa with Crane and Taj Chalthoum, my sheseru, and Mikhail Gorgerin, my sylvan. “He has a lot to say about me.”
    “Yes, he does,” Crane agreed. “And I’ll handle it.”
    “Which means what?”
    “Which means,” he said as he sighed, “that I’m talking to him, and it will either escalate and I’ll meet him in the pit or it won’t and we won’t.”
    Mikhail cleared his throat.
    As I glanced at Mikhail over my right shoulder, he gave me a slight shake of his head. But how could I drop it?
    “Crane.” I took a breath. “You realize that this man, this Elham, is the brother of Ammon El Masry, the last—”
    “I know exactly who he is.” Crane gave me a slight smirk so unlike him I almost lost my train of thought.
    Crane Adams never did anything just a little . He laughed big and loud, he had adamant thoughts on subjects that were none of his business, and he poked and prodded until you just confessed your heart to him to get him to shut up. He was strong and kind and fair, and so much more than annoying. But I had never, ever, seen him subdued and quiet. The fact that all his passion and vitality had simply drained out of him was driving me out of my mind. He wasn’t himself anymore. He was