“But this is not right!” Sath roared, his hands fisted at his sides.
Savdhi put her arms around him and held him to her, and after a few moments, he relaxed into her embrace. “I know, mashuk, sweetheart,” she cooed as she held him, “but for now, it must stand. I will talk to your Papa. He is a reasonable male, he will change his mind.” Neither of them heard Kahzlir enter the building; it was not until his shadow, cast by the torches on the wall, fell across Savdhi’s feet that she looked up. “Kahzlir,” she whispered.
Sath started, but Savdhi held him to her. Kahzlir glowered down at both of them. “First Wife,” he bellowed, “what are you doing with this dangerous exiled male, so close to all the precious cubs in the Royal Nursery?” Savdhi just stared up at him, fear clouding her ability to respond. “Well, answer me, female, and make it good or I will exile you along with this cub!”
“I was just saying goodbye, Papa,” Sath spat at Kahzlir. “There is no need to harm my Mama. I’m leaving.” He stalked past his father, never breaking eye contact until he was past the Rajah and out the door. Sath kept walking, without really thinking about where he was going until he found himself outside of the Royal Household and in the merchant section of Qatu’anari. The Crown Prince of Qatu’anari, now merely Sathlir, leaned against one of the marble walls and sank down to a seated position to await the choking sobs he had pushed away from the moment his father kicked his boot. No sobs came. Sath smiled. He thought about how free he was and how he could go anywhere and do anything; his excitement was tempered only by thoughts of his sister and mother still in the palace. Soon his stomach began making loud and rumbling demands, and Sath headed for a tavern where he and his friends often went when they snuck out of the Royal Nursery. He walked in the door, pleased to see that the room was all but empty, and took a seat at the bar.
A serving female that he knew very well stalked over to him, scowling. “Nope, not today, Sathlir,” she hissed. “You need to leave.”
“What? Come on, Preeva,” he said, beaming a toothy grin at her. “Just a bite of food, and I’ll be out of your way, I promise.”
“Nope, sorry, royal edict. I can’t Sathy, I’m sorry,” she said, and he could see the sadness in her eyes as she pointed to a bit of parchment tacked to the wall by the bar.
“Royal. . .what? Let me see that.” He ripped the piece of paper and pulled the nail out of the wall. It clattered onto the bar as he read the words aloud. “Sathlir, formerly of House Clawsharp, Person of Interest, No Longer…” Sath growled loudly. “No longer welcome in any upstanding establishment in Qatu’anari. Ikara’s TEETH, Papa, what have you done? Good news seems to travel FAST.” He balled up the missive and hurled it at poor Preeva’s head, snarling as he stalked back out onto the street. “Breaking a rule or two ever stopped me before.” He pulled his traveling cloak out of the pack that the Sahi Kalah had thrown at him as he left the Royal Apartments, thankful that he had some cover from the accusatory glances that seemed to bounce off the shining walls of his home city from every direction.
Sath made his way through the city he had known all of his life, but it looked different to him now. It was foreign. The faces that greeted him warmly just days before now refused to meet his gaze. Mothers pulled their cubs back inside of dwellings when he passed. Finally, he could ignore the grumbling in his stomach no more, and he snuck up behind a baker’s storefront, standing in the shadows to the side of the awning under which today’s fresh baked goods were spread out for customers. Keeping his head down, Sath ambled toward the front of the store and pulled his hood up over his head to hide his face. He stood behind several customers that picked up this loaf and then that one, sniffing them and pulling at the crust to test for firmness. Eventually, one of them turned away, knocking several rolls off the stand. Like a flash, Sath grabbed them up and tossed them into his waiting haversack, and then dashed back to the safety of the alley. He opened the pack and breathed in the heavenly aroma of fresh bread. “Take THAT, Papa,” he said as he bit into the first roll. He closed his eyes as he chewed, savoring the yeasty taste of the bread, but opened them as he felt something sharp against his temple.
“You stole my bread,” said the baker. The male Qatu was standing over Sath, holding a dagger to the side of Sath’s head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sath said. “My Mama made this bread for me this morning.”
“I saw you scoop it off the ground!” the baker said, his eyes blazing. “Pull back your hood so I can properly describe you to the authorities!” Sath leaped to his feet, his hood falling back as he did. “Prince Sathlir!” the man exclaimed, falling to his knees and pressing his head to the ground at Sath’s feet. “Forgive me, Highness, I did not know it was you. Of course, you can have whatever you want!”
Sath grinned. “Recover yourself. I have what I need here, but your generosity will not go unrewarded.”
The baker stood and backed away, leaving Sath to happily eat his bread. He became so lost in the overwhelmingly delicious food that he did not hear the rush of several sets of Qatu feet descending upon his hiding place. “Is this him?” Sath looked up to see a quad of Sahi
