Sarim's Scent (15 page)

He sat quietly in the dark, rolling the silver ball between his fingers. He had failed to realize there was a snake among the Sogas and he had failed to secure the one thing that would keep the Chair of Drumhani with the Sogas.

Standing, he began pacing the floor, angry with himself for not listening to his instincts and letting his brothers down. He should have killed the deceitful bastard when he first felt the inclination, too. They whispered about him behind his back. Several brothers had spoken about a takeover, but so far no one had been brave enough to challenge him directly for the seat. He felt the anger and disappointment in their stares.

No one made a fool out of him. No one. He had killed for less. Sarim stopped pacing and sat down in his chair. He leaned back and clasped his hands together and rested his chin on top of his joined fingers. Failure had never been an option for him and it wouldn’t start now. Those half-breed bastards would not get everything he’d worked hard for. Their deceit had cost him everything; his self-respect, the respect of the Sogas, and possibly his position as Abu. He’d have to gain control again. He thought of his descendent and smiled. She was the key.