Page 85 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 4

Shuree woke as the sounds of the camp entered her yurt. People called morning greetings, horses whinnied in the distance and children shrieked with laughter. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. This wasn’t her yurt.

Memories flooded back. She was in the Erseg camp, awaiting discussions with the khan. Her pulse slowed. Had Yesugen and Tegusken made it home yet? Would Amar keep his promise to wait until she returned? He would be furious when he saw what they’d done to their father. Her stomach heaved at the memory.

No, she would remember him as he had been, strong and kind. Some nights she would wake and listen to him speak with her mother about things that were troubling him, how to always do right by the tribe. He never showed that vulnerable side to anyone but his wife and Shuree. She used to climb into his lap when she was little and cuddle him, tell him everything would be all right.

How she missed him already.

She brushed the tears from her cheeks and stood, stretching her aching muscles, and brushing the wrinkles out of the clothes the best she could. It was important she spoke to Ogodai soon, before her brother had time to retaliate for their father’s mutilation. She took a piece of dried meat from the table and opened the chests she’d noticed the night before. One had a hair comb in it, so she undid her plait and combed her hair before rebraiding it. She was as presentable as she could be.

She pulled down the top flap of the yurt which let smoke out when the central fire was lit. The light was still soft, pale, so perhaps not long after sunrise.

Ogodai might not be awake yet, but she should let the guard know she was.

As she approached the door, it rippled and a voice called, “Are you awake, Shuree?”

She stopped where she was and said, “Yes, come in.”

Dagar ducked his head as he entered. “I wasn’t sure if you would still be sleeping.” He stood upright, his clothes tidy, no sign of fatigue on him, yet he’d probably had less sleep than her. He adjusted his top knot and smiled, then winced as the scar on his face pulled.

She sympathised with his pain. “I am ready to speak to the khan.”

“How about we break the fast first?” He gestured for her to leave the yurt.

“Thank you.” Shuree hoped his courtesy was genuine. She walked with Dagar to a nearby tent. Inside were his brother, a young woman and two girls. Dagar’s brother glanced up and scowled. “What’s she doing here?”

She glanced at Dagar.

“Having breakfast with us.” Dagar turned to her. “Shuree, this is my brother, Batbayar, his wife, Narangerel and his daughters, Naran and Saran.” He gestured for her to sit. “Shuree is from the Saltar tribe, here to speak with our khan about peace.”

Narangerel smiled. “Welcome. May your journey be fruitful.”

Batbayar gaped at his wife. “What are you saying?”

She glanced at him. “I am tired of fearing for your life every time you ride out,” she said. “I want my children to have their father.”

Excitement hummed under Shuree’s skin. “I understand. I hope the khan and I can come to an agreement.”

Narangerel pursed her lips. “Perhaps we can talk in private before you see him.”

Batbayar was spluttering now. “You can’t do that. She’s our prisoner.”

Shuree stiffened. “I thought I was your guest.”

“You are.” Dagar sat next to her and handed her a bowl of curd. “You have Shuree to thank for sparing your husband’s life at the last raid,” he said to Narangerel. “She could have killed him, but she let him go instead.”

Narangerel’s eyes widened and she reached across the table to squeeze Shuree’s hand. “Thank you! Your mercy means the world to me and my children.”

Joy filled her. Here was the proof she’d made the right decision. “You are most welcome.”

“If I may ask,” Narangerel said. “Why didn’t you kill him? They attacked you.”

“Killing each other isn’t the answer,” she said. “I know each of the raiders will return to a camp like ours and their wives will celebrate their return. I’ve seen too often the heartbreak when someone doesn’t return.” Her chest squeezed as the image of her father’s mutilated body flashed before her. She swallowed. “I am Tribal Mother to my people,” she said. “And I am currently in charge of my tribe. My duty is to protect and nurture them anyway I can.”

Understanding shone in Narangerel’s eyes. “If there’s anything I can do to help you bring peace, please tell me.”

“Enough!” Batbayar said.

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