The Claimed: A Clash of Copper and Gold

Chapter 7: You Look Different

Zeke released a huff of air and turned to my father. "Well, there it is. Just as I was warning you, Your Majesty—we are not safe here."

"Hmm," my father said into his mug.

Rastofa's beady eyes pierced Zeke even as she addressed my father. "Your Majesty, whoever attacked on the road surely would not dare try anything here." The bouncing lilt of Kalasiki made her sound like a tittering bird. "Rakim no longer has great wealth, but it has plenty of power to protect you from any further attacks. And besides, much of Kalasiki's army is also here to join the Challenge Day and Day of Truth festivities."

"Not to mention that we brought most of the Royal Guard here with us," said Pog of Busk. Like Lox, he had the pale skin typical of the mountainous states, along with washed-out hair and eyes. "And a few of our best soldiers from Busk have also come."

Wahano of Kulas snorted. "Oh, a few soldiers from a state of colorless Lesser God worshippers accompanied us? Now everyone will feel safe."

Lox puffed out his broad chest. "Busk and Bund have done far more for the nation in recent years than Kulas. And at least we don't keep slaves. The Blessed Pair always says—"

"The Blessed Pair is down to one lonely, irrelevant lunatic," said Wahano.

My father's cup clunked down on the table. "Gentlemen, please. Let's remain respectful."

Lox deflated and leaned back in his chair.

Zeke was less easily assuaged.

"You want to talk about respect? After everything Rakim has done to my tribe, Kalasiki still continues to support them." He shot a pointed look at Rastofa. 

Remembering Copper and the other Claimed from Zarku at the Serving Ceremony, I could not fault Zeke for his anger. Still, he was not helping Najila or Zarku by refusing to compromise. A headache throbbed at my temples. As a child, I had not wanted to be king. Time and understanding had only sharpened that resolve.

A quiet voice spoke from over my shoulder.

"Whether or not we approve of what Rakim has done, we must offer them a seat on the Royal Council. It is the only way forward."

I turned to see Yuri approaching the table. He carried a chair, which he set down next to Zeke. His loose tunic concealed the bandages over his gut, his long black hair was tied back neatly, and his gait and voice were even. The only sign he had recently been stabbed was the way he gripped the edge of the table as he lowered himself onto the seat.

Zeke furrowed his eyebrows. "Yuri, you are supporting Rastofa over me on this?"

"I am not supporting Rastofa or you," said Yuri. "I am supporting Najila. We know Rakim wants more power. We need to give them that power before they find other means to take it."

Niako's words from so long ago resonated in my mind. I give your father five years until someone takes his head and his throne.

Were we living on borrowed time?

My father reached for the bottle of prak and poured himself some more.

Wahano set his elbows on the table, pressing his ample gut up against the table's edge. "Rakim will be busy organizing the festivities for Challenge Day and the Day of Truth over the next couple days. Perhaps we still have time to feel out the sentiment of the people here before we come to a decision together."

Rastofa's fingers fluttered against the tabletop. "If we are going to make this offer to Rakim, it needs to be decided as soon as possible."

"For once, we agree," said Zeke. "If we are going to make this offer to Rakim, I would rather not spend another minute in this land."