Chapter 46

The Moon had risen over the desert and the city of Guanaca, capital of the desert-kingdom that also bore its name. 

In his bedchamber, King Bashar was pacing back and forth. Despite the late hour, sleep was furthest from the King's mind, his thoughts being occupied by the reports he had received of the invading army that was drawing ever closer.

"Bah!" The Fennec muttered to himself. "I need to take my mind off of things, if only for a little while and I know just the person who will help me with that."

He walked up to the a cord that was hanging near the bed and tugged at it. Shortly thereafter, a servant entered the room, bowing respectfully.

"Tell Layla to come here" Bashar commanded.

Bowing once again, the servant left and soon returned, accompanied by the person he had been told to bring.

The Person called Layla had first come into Bashar service five years ago, two years before he claimed the throne which had previously been occupied by his undeserving person. Layla was not her original name, but one that Bashar had chosen for her, for in Guanaca it was the owner of the slave who decided what their property should be called.

Bashar remembered their first meeting; he had walked in circles around his new gift, inspecting her unclad frame. When he had reached out and touched her breast, he received a gob of spit in her face, followed by a few choice curse words. Bashar had calmly wiped the spit from his cheeks and turning to his guest had thanked him for the thoughtful gift.

Unfortunately for Bashar, it seemed like it would take a long time before he could put his new property to use; Layla showed no inclination towards accepting her proper place as a tool of pleasure for her new master and no disciplinary actions, whether it was beatings or leaving her without food and water for a few days, seemed to have any effect.

Eventually, Bashar's patience began to wear thin and he began seriously contemplate whether he should sell his gift, or simply put her to the sword.

Then one day, she was gone. Somehow, she had managed to escape. Bashar sent his household out to find her. They searched the town, but could not manage to find her and was forced to conclude that she had escaped out in the desert. Two days later a band of travelers knocked on the door to what was then Bashar's residence and told that they had found a woman lying unconscious on one of the dunes.

According to the travelers, they had approached the woman to see if she was still alive and if so, if they could do anything for her (in truth, they were more interested in whatever valuables she may have carried) and, upon doing so, they had noticed a mark on her shoulder.

"One of us recognized the mark as that of your family, Your Excellency", one of the travelers had said with a sycophantic smile. "Thus we decided to restore her to you, her rightful owner. Hmm, perhaps Your Excellency in your generosity would see it fit to give your humble servants some form of reward?"

Bashar had been so elated at having had Layla restored to him  that he had bestowed upon the travelers a purse filled of coins and had even invited them to share his meal. Before that though he had ordered a servant to fetch a doctor.
Layla spent the following week in bed, gradually regaining her strength. The First two days she slipped in and out of consciousness. At one point, the slave-woman Bashar had ordered to attend to her needs until she got better had heard her whisper a single word:

Merees.

One positive thing had come out of Layla's escape and near-death experience; the desert sun had apparently burned away the obstinate part of her personality, as Bashar had witnessed himself, upon having summoned the fully recovered Layla to his room.

He had ordered to take off her clothing and this time, she had done so without protest. Feeling the blood rush to his cock, he had ordered her to touch it. After a moment's hesitation, she had done so, the sense of victory Bashar had felt in that moment had been almost too much to handle. Still, he had managed it. That night, the King had taken his now conquered slave for the first time. Afterwards, he had fallen asleep, completely satisfied and deaf to the sound of her tears.

Since then, almost no night had passed that Bashar did not summon Layla to his side. She did everything he requested of her and the King rewarded her by giving her a room of her own, closer to his own quarters.

This night, however, the unthinkable happened: Even the caresses of his most prized possession, failed to bring Bashar any pleasure.

"Enough!" He growled, pushing her aside.

Layla looked at him with surprise.

"Is something the matter, my King?" She asked. "Have I done anything to displease you."

Bashar shook his head.

"Its not you, its that army heading here."

"An army, my King? Where from?"

"From Vinoli" Bashar muttered. He walked over to a table where a carafe of wine stood. He drank from the carafe directly, not bothering with the two goblets  next to it.

"My damn cousin has resurfaced." Bashar continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his paw. "He has made a pact with Vinoli..."

The King went silent. Was it only his imagination or had there been a strange gleam in Layla's eyes just then? No, it must have been his imagination playing tricks with him. Either that, or the wine was to blame."

"...To restore him to the throne" he continued, his voice growing more and more agitated. "Can you imagine what will happen to Guanaca if that happens? We will end up becoming a puppet-state to Vinoli and that unnatural woman who rules it, only being allowed to ask 'How High?' when told to jump!"

With this, Bashar slammed his fist into the table with such force that the goblets jumped. Layla watched him with a neutral expression on her face.

Feeling a bit calmer, the King turned to his favorite.

"You may leave, I shall not require your services tonight."

"Would Your Majesty like me to send for somebody else?" Layla asked.

The King shook his head.

"What woman in my harem could possibly succeed where you have failed? Go, I say."

 Layla bowed and left the king's quarters. She did not return to her own room though, but instead  headed to the harem, where her fellow slave-girls were fast asleep. Treading carefully, the female lynx walked up to a large cushion, upon which an antelope was sleeping soundly.

A touch to her shoulder caused the antelope to stir and then open her eyes.

"Risha" the antelope said with a yawn,  when she saw who stood before her. "What are you doing here? Does the King require my presence?"

"No, Miriam", Layla replied, using the antelope's real name, just as she had used hers. This being a sign of trust between the two of them. "Help me to wake the others, I have something important to tell you."

Chapter 45

"What do you think they are talking about?" Miranda asked as she sprinkled a generous amount of cinnamon on her porridge.

"Whatever it is, nothing good will come from it" Nasari replied, blowing on her coffee. "Mark my words."

After the stranger had revealed his identity, the Queen had ordered anyone else to leave the room. Nasari had done so only to willingly, glad of finally being away from Argath's presence and for the chance to finally grab something to eat. Now, she and Miranda were seated at a small corner table in the servants' dining hall, around them were several other members of the palace staff were chatting and filling their bellies.

"You're probably right" Miranda said and swallowed a spoonful of porridge. "Still, I must admit that I'm curious.."

Not too long afterwards, Miranda would found her curiosity satisfied, though the greater details of what was said during the meeting between these two heads of state, would always remain a mystery to her. That is not the case for us, though. Let us therefore leave the buzz of the dining hall and return to the Queen's chambers, where the apparent King of Guanaca was telling his story to his Royal colleague:

His name was Faljan and he was the only son of King Shuluf, who had passed away recently, reuniting with his Queen who had gone before him. Prince Faljan had quickly been crowned, but the Royal insignia had barely been placed into his paws, before a coup broke out, led by his cousin Bashar, or, as King Faljan called him: The most Despicable Scoundrel whose feet ever defiled the ground on which they trod.

Fortunately, for the young king, there were still those who were loyal to him. With their help, he had managed to leave Guanaca.

"I have spent several years in hiding, trying to rally men to my cause. Unfortunately, it seemed hopeless. Then, just as I was about to resign myself to a life in exile, I began to hear tales that one country had recently begun to expand its territories and had proved quite successful at doing so. That country was Vinoli."

Argath had listened to the King's tale in silence, while the wheels in her head turned. Now, she decided to speak up:

"There is no need for you to tell Us the rest of your story, King Faljan" she said. "You have come here to ask Our help to reclaim your kingdom."

"That is indeed so" the fennec replied, nodding eagerly. "You are very perceptive, O Queen."

"We know the importance of maintaining a friendly relationship with Guanaca. However, We would like to point out that it does not necessarily have to be with you."

King Faljan grew pale, he suddenly felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped significantly.

"Y-Your Majesty" he said. "You can't..."

The Corner of Argath's mouth curved upwards. She stood up in her full length, towering over her guest.

"What should We care who sits on the throne of Guanaca, as long as said person is not a threat to Our ambitions? What do We have to gain from risking the lives of Our soldiers on your behalf?"

Faljan listened to the Queen's words, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow. Visions of him being handed over to his cousin and what would inevitably follow, appeared before him. Then, they vanished, like a flame that had been blown out, as the fennec realized that he had an ace up his sleeve. He had hoped that he would not have to play it, but these were desperate times.

"Your Majesty" he said and now, his voice was firm and calm. "Why settle for mere friendship with a nation when you can have the nation itself?"

Leaving his chair, the exiled King got down on his knees.

"Let our two Kingdoms become one" he said, taking Argath's hands and bringing it to his lips. "United by the bonds of marriage."

It was not the words uttered by the man kneeling before her that caused Argath's heart to skip a beat, but rather what they entailed: All travelers coming from the east had to pass through Guanaca sooner or later, meaning that its treasury was always well-filled.

Once, when she was still only a Princess, the Queen had visited the desert kingdom on a diplomatic mission and seen its wealth with her first-hand. With all those riches at her disposal, what could she not accomplish?
None of Argath's excitement could be read on her face though, which was an impassive mask. Had there been any professional gamblers in the room, they would have nodded appreciatively.

Argath cleared her throat:

"Your proposition is most intriguing" she said, affecting a nonchalant tone. "We...I would be willing to accept it. However" she continued, holding up one hand, just as Faljan was about to speak. "I have
to insist on certain conditions."

The Relief felt by the young King at that moment was written all over his features. Already he saw himself back on his rightful throne, with his enemies cowering before him.

"Whatever your conditions, I agree to them" he said and lowered his head in deference. "Your Majesty.

As Argath thought of the future and all that would soon be hers, a smile of genuine happiness came upon her countenance. She reached out and pulled her impromptu suitor to his feet.

"I think we can dispense with the titles, don't you?" She said in a gracious voice. "After all, there is no need for such formality, between two who shall soon be wife and husband."