AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘When we return,’ he starts again, carefully, almost stumbling, like a child seeking to find the words that will make his father see his growth, admit his entry into manhood, ‘I will speak to the Guardian. I will ask him to remove my title as the Anointed Successor.’
My first thought is astonishment, that he is giving up the title he loves. The second, slightly uncharitably, is to note wryly that he still manages to make the capitalisation of that title clear in his speech.
‘I am not worthy.’ Words softly spoken. Almost breathed. It’s hard to believe they have come from Zakariya’s mouth. ‘When I faced true danger, I – I failed. I could not overcome my fears. The Aab-Al-Hayaat deserves a protector worthy of that title.’
I say nothing. There is nothing he has said that I disagree with. Nor can I congratulate him for something he should have realised long ago. What I do not realise is what he is going to say next.
‘I am going to recommend you take my place to the Guardian. That you become his Anointed One.’
There are very few moments in my life that have caught me by surprise. My husband’s rejection at the blood-soaked carnage I wrought to save us all, perhaps. When the shadhavar turned and left me alive instead of trampling me to death, certainly. And this moment right here. I can feel my mouth hanging open. Unacceptable. I snap it closed.
But Zakariya hasn’t finished. He looks at me, and there is something in his expression. Perhaps anger again? No, not anger but certainly passion. Not lust or love either. He is not that stupid. And if he is, I can happily kick him in his manhood as many times as it takes to dissuade him of that idea.
‘You are worthy.’ There is certainty there. ‘Ever since you came to the temple, it has changed. The Guardian has changed. Life has come back to him. He has reconnected to the acolytes, to his duties, and I…’
He breaks off, pauses, recomposes himself. ‘And I have been jealous. Of that closeness. Of that investment he has made in you that he once made in me. It has taken what has transpired here –’ He waves his hand at the clearing around us. ‘For me to realise he never stopped caring about me. He simply did not wish to see what his caring made of me.
‘For me to know just how jealous’ –he leans forward, lets me see in through his eyes, into his soul– ‘ I have been of you. Because I see he treats you as he once did me. But that you will not change. Will not corrupt yourself with a title. You are better than me. And I am not worthy of the one that was bestowed on me.’
He bows his head on those words, falls silent. I’m not sure how to reply. ‘Shukram,’ I say. Thank you. I don’t really know what for, but let him decide which bit he wishes to be thanked for.
Of course, it will not happen. The idea that the Guardian will choose me, an outcast from another part of the world instead of a born Druze for that most sacred and vital of roles? Laughable. But it is to Zakariya’s credit that he will put forward the argument. And that he has gained any credit at all is –indubitably– proof beyond measure of one thing.
The best way – perhaps the only way to educate men?
A swift, precise kick to what they consider makes them a man.
And that is a lesson I shall make sure to hold on to for however long I live.
Want more of Aicha saving idiots even when they’re the MCs?
Read all about this badass warrior as she saves the world with her best friend, Paul Bonhomme, in the imPerfect Cathar series.
Or listen to the series through Shopify:
About C.N. Rowan
C.N. Rowan (“Call me C.N., Mr. Rowan was my father”) came originally from Leicester, England. Somehow escaping its terrible, terrible clutches (only joking, he’s a proud Midlander really), he has wound up living in the South-West of France for his sins. Only, not for his sins. Otherwise, he’d have ended up living somewhere really dreadful. Like Leicester. (Again – joking, he really does love Leicester. He knows Leicester can take a joke. Unlike some of those other cities. Looking at you, Slough.)
With multiple weird strings to his bow, all of which are made of tooth-floss and liable to snap if you tried to use them to do anything as adventurous as shooting an arrow, he’s done all sorts of odd things, from running a hiphop record label (including featuring himself as rapper) to hustling disability living aids on the mean streets of Syston. He’s particularly proud of the work he’s done managing and recording several French hiphop acts, and is currently awaiting confirmation of wild rumours he might get a Gold Disc for a song he recorded and mixed.
Finding Fae Pets
BY Isa Medina
Finding Fae Pets by Isa Medina
As an ex-member of the Magical Artifacts Retrieval and Research Institute, Maddie desperately needs a job. So when a little Fae girl comes to her about her missing pet, what else can she do but venture into the terrifying Fae world to find it?
Chapter One
Artifact hunting was a very rewarding business, in the pride and satisfaction of a job well done, if not exactly money. Which was how I found myself standing on a chair in the corner of the basement office where I was currently squatting, looking for cell reception. A Post-it on the door with my name announced my current occupancy, and I was still using a stolen keycard to access this level of the huge building that was the Hub.
From its position on the wall by my desk, a rainbow flying cat on a poster gave me an approving stare.
Yes, that’s right, this was a judgment-free zone.
A bar finally appeared on my phone, and I hurried to make the call.
