The Immortal Queen Tsubame: Ascension (11 page)

Marie’s lips were tight, her eyes narrowed, her body stiff as she glared at MaLeila but was unable to find anything to say. Her younger doppelganger, however, had no problems.

“How dare you insult us in our home, at our dinner table you--?”

“Calm down Annamarie.  No use getting mad at her for being right,” Dominik said arms crossed as he looked at MaLeila with a peculiar gaze. “It’s time someone said it.”

Dominik then turned to Tsubame and said, “What do you have in mind?”

“The Russian Clan and Thorne Clan are dividing the magical world. All I ask is that you stay neutral for now. Don’t join in any of the fighting, don’t take a stance. Just wait out the brunt of the storm,” Tsubame suggested.

“And how is that going to benefit me?” Marie asked.

“Simple. When the armies are worn out, because no matter who wins this both parties will be losers, you sweep in with your undead army and obliterate the remains and that will force the Magic Council to bow to you because the other families will have already bowed to us,” Tsubame said.

The table was suddenly silent, the room feeling like all the air had been suddenly sucked out of it with Tsubame’s words.

“How did you know?” Marie asked.

“Now, now, Marie. What did I tell you yesterday about underestimating my abilities?” Tsubame said, eyes flashing with mirth.

“We should discuss this more in detail in my office,” Marie said.

“I agree,” Tsubame said, standing in her seat with her wine in hand.

Marie stood also and led the woman out the dining room.

“God that was dreadful,” Jasmine said. “This is why we don’t have dinner together.”

“I don’t know,” Dominik said with a grin and then he turned to look at MaLeila. “It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in the last decade if you ask me.”

“Excuse me if I don’t feel as ecstatic about being insulted,” Annamarie said and then left the dining room.

“Now look what you did. She’s already difficult and now you made her mad,” Jasmine said.

“Sorry,” MaLeila said, sinking down in her chair slightly.

“Don’t be,” Dominik said with a shrug. “My grandmother deserves it. I’ve been trying to tell her what you just told her for years but she’s so obsessed with her own greatness and immortality to care. She’s just upset that a stranger who’s barely been acquainted with her told her what I’ve been telling her for years. It’s no wonder Tsubame speaks so confidently of you. You’ll make a powerful matriarch one day.”

MaLeila wasn’t sure it was a compliment, but something about the curious way Dominik said it rubbed her the wrong way. She pressed her lips together to avoid rolling her eyes at the fact that Dominik seemed to be attracted to her. Then something he said dawned on her. Tsubame had spoken confidently of her? Sure the woman did it in private, but in public she always wanted to make MaLeila out to be unassuming, to allow Tsubame to do all the talking. Why would she want to draw attention to MaLeila now of all times…

Their earlier conversation came back to her head, where Tsubame had seemingly begun to ramble about the geisha and their kimonos and how sundresses were much more comfortable and easy to get dirty in and roll you sleeves up in. The thought had crossed MaLeila’s mind that Tsubame was being metaphorical, but she hadn’t been able to figure out about what. She thought about the geisha, how proper and traditional they were, how Tsubame said they’re business was all about getting men as close to sex as possible without giving it to them…

Fuck.

MaLeila stood from the table slowly, causing Marcel to raise an eyebrow at her and ask if she was okay. She nodded, saying that she was only tired from being up all day and that she was going to her room to rest.

In actuality, she made her way to Tsubame’s room and sat on the longue, waiting for the woman to return. It was an hour or so before Tsubame finally returned, but the woman had hardly made it into the room when MaLeila said, “You want me to seduce Dominik.”

As she closed the door behind her, Tsubame said, “Not so loud. The walls may be deaf in my room, but others are certainly not.”

After the door was closed, she sat on the longue next to MaLeila and said, “Well you certainly figured it out faster than I thought you would. What gave it away?”

“Dominik mentioning that you were practically singing praises of me.”

“I always praise you.”

“Privately,” MaLeila.

Tsubame sighed like an admonished child and said, “Well how else was I supposed to draw his attention towards you, although I must say you did a wonderful job of attracting his attention yourself.”

“I insulted his grandmother.”

“You did much more than that, MaLeila. You told Marie the truth, a truth her grandson had been trying to get her to see for decades. And by doing that, you flattered him. And flattery is key when it comes to seduction,” Tsubame explained.

“Tsubame. I’m not sleeping with him.”

“You don’t have to,” Tsubame said with a shrug. “All I want you do is play a delicate game of cat and mouse. Admittedly, it can be a dangerous game, but I wouldn’t ask you to play it if I didn’t think that you were powerful enough to be the cat. Make him want you and make him think that so long as he and his mother cooperate, he might be able to have you.”

“So you’re essentially asking me to prostitute myself?”

Tsubame didn’t say anything immediately, seemingly busying herself with the hem of her dress. Then she said, “No. I’m not asking you to prostitute yourself. Sexuality and the ability to give sex is a power. And when you’re a ruler, you use all the powers at your disposal. Embracing your sexuality and using it to get what you want is only danger if you begin to think it’s your only power. And we’re both aware that you have a far greater power than your vagina. Although admittedly it must be pretty amazing if it’s kept Marcel around this long.”

MaLeila decided not to even bother getting mad at Tsubame, decidedly sure that her last sentence had been more matter of fact as far as the woman was concerned than meaning to be insulting.

“It’s also a power men underestimate,” Tsubame said. “I’ve done half the work for you. Just continue to talk to Dominik like you spoke at dinner, lead him on, and keep letting him see you with Marcel. Give him false hope. Men love chasing after what they think they aren’t supposed to have, like children.”

“For what reason?”

“Because if Dominik is so smitten with you that he’ll do anything you ask just for a chance of fucking you, Marie betraying us won’t matter because Dominik won’t.”

MaLeila narrowed her eyes at Tsubame’s response and wondered if Dominik had been the woman’s primary focus after all. It would explain why Tsubame hadn’t been so concerned about Marie. If she had simply been trying to get to Dominik all along, then Tsubame’s display of trying to get in Marie’s good graces was just a show, a distraction so Marie wouldn’t notice Tsubame turning her own grandson against her. However, judging by Dominik’s words at dinner, maybe they didn’t need Tsubame’s help with that. And maybe they didn’t need for her to seduce Dominik either if that was the case.

When MaLeila suggested her thoughts to Tsubame, the woman didn’t admit or deny that Dominik had been her target from the beginning, but she did say, “It may be true there’s already a rift between Marie and Dominik, but it needs a little push. Get to know him. Listen to him vent. Tell him what he wants to hear.”

“For how long?”

Tsubame shrugged.

“For however long it takes. At least for now, Marie’s not going to tell anyone where we are. Until then, we’re playing a waiting game.”

“A waiting game for what?”

Tsubame didn’t reply immediately as she stared into space, absently twirling a lock of her hair. Then she nodded and said, “For everything to get much worse.”

11

Devdan didn’t know why he was moved to do it, but right before he left the Vatican to head to Dire Dawa, Ethiopia, he picked up the phone in the Vatican Palace to call Merrick.

“Hello?”

“Merrick,” Devdan said.

“Devdan?”
Devdan heard the sound of shuffling in the background.
“Where the fuck are you all? The three of you disappear in the magical world for a month and a half and the only reason I even know MaLeila is alive is that she’s been updating her Instagram page with photos of the dessert and mountains and forests.”

Devdan had noticed that MaLeila was keeping up her social media’s too. Even getting a selfie of herself and Marcel uploaded a couple of times. He guessed even being prepared to dominate the magical world didn’t stop her from acting like a typical young woman sometimes. “MaLeila’s fine.”

“Is she with you?”

“No. But don’t worry about her. I’m calling about you,” Devdan said curtly and before Merrick could ask he continued, “There’s going to be a war.”

“You don’t have to tell me,”
Merrick said dryly
. “There’s obviously a lot more going on over there than the media is letting on, but whatever it is, the U.S. is pissed at Russia.”

“They’ve always been pissed at Russia. Only now they have a reason to fight and take them down openly. I won’t tell you the entire story, but just do me a favor.”

“Do you a favor? I don’t owe you any favors.”

“Maybe not, but you are MaLeila’s brother and I have saved your ass a few times in the past. So consider this favor repayment.”

“What’s the favor?”

“Don’t let them deploy you. No matter what they say. No matter if there’s a draft, if they threaten to put you in jail, don’t fight in this war.”

“In case you forgot, fighting in wars is my job.”

“Well I’m telling you to find a new one. This war is going to get catastrophic quickly. And going will be signing your death sentence.”

“How do you know this? You don’t even follow politics or world news.”

“That’s because I follow it enough in the magical world.”

“What’s the magical world got to do with this Devdan?”

“Everything,” Devdan snapped in irritation with the man for not simply taking his word for it. He wasn’t surprised though. Without MaLeila to mediate or at least back Devdan up, Merrick wasn’t going to readily listen to him. Devdan sighed. “Look. I can’t tell you everything and in the end you’re going to do what you want regardless, but I can at least say I warned you. You may think that the magic world and the non-magic world are two separate entities that have nothing to do with each other, but the non-magic world exists because of the magical one. So regardless of whether you like me or not, if I were you I’d listen to the guy who is intimately involved with the magical one.”

For a while Merrick was silent, Devdan could even hear the other man’s breathing. Finally he said, “Fine. I won’t go. But only if you do me a favor.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Keep looking out for MaLeila.”

Devdan huffed. “I thought you didn’t even trust me around her.”

“It was never that I didn’t trust you with her. Just… I’m not stupid. I know wherever she is she’s not with you. But no matter where she’s been or how angry you two have been at each other, I know you’ll look out for her. Just keep doing that,” Merrick said.

Devdan started to say that him and MaLeila, whatever it was they had whether it was because of the bond Claude forced between them or whether there had actually been natural chemistry, were done. She wasn’t his concern anymore. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that if he wasn’t somewhat concerned for her, he wouldn’t be warning her brother not to go to war.

Finally he nodded, even though Merrick couldn’t see the gesture and said, “Okay,” if only to get Merrick to agree with him.

“Good.”

They exchanged no greeting. Devdan hung up the phone and prepared to leave for his flight to Ethiopia.

Dire Dawa, Ethiopia wasn’t much of a cultural shock for Devdan. In fact, upon walking out the terminal of the city’s airport and seeing the diverse cultures and colors of people milling around, he almost felt like he was back in Atlanta.

“Come on,” Anya said as she walked past him. “Mekonnen sent an escort for us.”

Their escort was a tall dark man black man. Blacker than any black man that Devdan had met in America in a long time. His name was Ezra and besides his initial greeting, he didn’t say anything beyond directing them as he led them out to the vehicle.

The drive was filled with an awkward silence. Not one of those where anyone particularly wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what to say, but one of those awkward silences where it seemed like the last thing that any of the individuals in the car wanted was to be in the same space as each other. Devdan wasn’t particularly happy Anya was sent to accompany him to spy for the council because they didn’t trust him, as he told the council when they told him that the woman was to accompany him, Anya had a personal grudge against him because he’d never groveled at her feet because her status, and though neither Devdan nor Anya had ever met Ezra, it was a reluctantly acknowledged truth that none of the African or South American families that the council tried to diligently to force cooperation with trusted the Magic Council or the Western Magic families responsible for aiding in its creation as far as a non-magical human could throw an elephant. And those families also weren’t fooled by the Magic Council sending someone with their skin color to mediate either. Not anymore anyway.

Thus they rode in silence during the almost two hour ride to where they would be staying in Harar, an old city known for both its long Islamic history in the non-magical world and its magical history in the magical world. Ezra took them to a mansion just inside the walled city. Compared to other magic families’ homes that Devdan had been privileged to go to over the years, it was hardly magnificent, hardly even able to be called a mansion if Devdan were being honest. But it had a quaint charm about it, with its unique Arabian and African design.

As soon they pulled up to the house, two men came out to take his and Anya’s bags into the house while another opened the door to let them out the car. Ezra promptly led them up to the fourth floor of the mansion to a room with double wooden doors at the end of the hall. He knocked twice and then made his way into the room, holding the door open for Anya and Devdan to enter.

Inside was a tall broad man, with skin much darker than Devdan but not as dark as Ezra. He didn’t look much older than 40, but when Devdan looked into the man’s black eyes he sensed something ancient about him. The man approached them and Devdan made sure to reach him first, trying to remember how Bastet told him to greet the man.

“They’re not going to trust you. They’re going to think you’re just like the Magic Council. You want to show them that you respect their culture. They still won’t trust you, but it’ll be a start.”

Devdan grabbed Mekonnen Lebna’s hand and looked him right in the eye. Then he proceeded to ask about the man’s family. Unlike what Bastet normal Ethiopian customs yet what they had expected given the situation, Mekonnen was curt not going into great detail about the matter like Bastet said the Ethiopian people were prone to do per their greeting custom. Mekonnen did ask Devdan the same in return though, to which Devdan replied fine. Anya didn’t even try to bother with pleasantries. She shook Mekonnen’s hand and then had a seat. Devdan followed suit and once both his guests were seated, Mekonnen sat back down as well.

“I was surprised,” Mekonnen said in a deep baritone, “when I was notified that the Magic Council wished to come visit me in my country. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“That’s because the council hasn’t had a need to. You have always done well enough governing yourselves,” Anya said.

“Certainly no thanks to the aid of the Magical Council,” Mekonnen pointed out and then laughed as though it was a joke.

It only made the tension more palpable.

“And it’s so impressed the Magic Council that we’re reaching out to you now,” Anya said.

“Is this about your impending western war?” Mekonnen asked.

The man’s promptness took Devdan by surprise. According to Bastet, it wasn’t in the man’s culture to be so abrupt and Devdan decide that it was a sign to tread carefully. Anya didn’t have the same reservations.

“It wouldn’t just be a western war. It would be another World War,” Anya corrected.

“I make no distinction between the two,” Mekonnen said and then added, “We’ve been down this road before. The Magic Council sends a representative, one who looks like us, makes us promises they don’t plan to keep in exchange for giving them what they want and then, if we’re lucky we’re simply left with dissatisfied people who blame us for breaking promises we thought we’d have the help to keep and if we’re not lucky, a country left in ruin.”

Devdan couldn’t blame Mekonnen for his resentment and mistrust toward the magic council. He could hardly count the number of times in those first few years with MaLeila that the Magic Council had intervened, made empty promises, and misled them. If he were Mekonnen, he probably wouldn’t have even entertained the Magic Council and sent them on their way to fight their war and stayed out of the conflict. And if it weren’t for Bastet’s plan, Devdan would have let the man do just that. As it was, Devdan decided to intervene before Anya said anything else.

“It won’t be like that this time,” Devdan assured.

“And how can you guarantee that?”

“We’ll put it on paper. A formal alliance, with the signatures of all twelve council members,” Devdan said.

“A piece of paper has certainly never stopped the council from betraying us before.”

“Then don’t put your trust in the word of the Magic Council,” Devdan said. “Put your trust in mine.”

Mekonnen laughed. “Your word means the same to me as the Magic Council’s does.”

Devdan continued to look at Mekonnen with a passive expression even though his heart began to race in barely contained ire at the insinuation that he was anything like the Magic Council. As far as Devdan was concerned, he had more in common with Mekonnen. Devdan let out a slow breath. He couldn’t blame the man for his assumptions no matter how much the frustrated him and then suddenly, MaLeila came to his thoughts unbidden. How he had treated her with similar wary and distrust same way because of her association with Claude and how she must have felt the same way.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Devdan finally said. “My word doesn’t mean the same to you as the Magic Council. It simply means nothing because I’ve never had the chance to show you what it means. I’m asking you for the chance, not on the Magic Council’s behalf, but on mine.”

Devdan ignored the way Anya was looking at him and kept his eyes focused on Mekonnen’s. He’d never had a problem looking someone in the eye before, but Bastet warned him it was especially important when talking to Mekonnen. Not looking someone in the eye was a sign of distrust only and never social ineptness.

“I’ll think about it,” Mekonnen said. “But while I do, I have something to ask of you.”

“What’s that?” Devdan asked cautiously.

“See the city. Meet the people. Learn something about our culture,” Mekonnen said.

It was an odd request, like the man was telling him to treat his visit like a vacation rather than the diplomatic mission that it was. Devdan wasn’t sure what to say in response, feeling like it was one of those questions that no matter what he answered he’d be in trouble for it anyway. Seeing Anya opened her mouth made him come to a quick decision.

“Alright,” he said quickly, to which Mekonnen nodded.

Then the dark man said, “I’ve been a terrible host thus far. I’m sure you’re tired from your journey. Ezra will show you to your rooms.”

The tall dark man re-entered the room to lead Devdan and Anya back down to the second floor of the mansion. As they did so, Anya muttered lowly to Devdan, “What are you playing at?”

“We’re still here,” Devdan muttered. “The council sent me on this mission and I figured Mekonnen sending us packing back to the Vatican would be counterproductive to our goal. Being a tourist certainly isn’t the most demeaning thing he could have asked us to do.”

Their conversation was cut short by them arriving at the room that was to be Anya’s. After making sure that everything was in order for the woman, Ezra continued to lead Devdan down the hall until they arrived at a room near another set of stairs that led up to the third floor. It wasn’t an extremely large room. Only as big as the master bedroom back home with a bathroom attached. But Devdan wasn’t one to demand extravagancies. He nodded a thanks to Ezra before he left, closed the door and then collapsed onto the bed.

He was exhausted, not so much physically as he was mentally, unused to having to bite his tongue and restrain himself in order to play the delicate game of politics and trying not to bruise the ego of key diplomats. Even when he wasn’t sparing people’s feeling and was able to be himself, interacting with other people for an extended period of time drained him because there was only so much of himself that he could allow himself to give.