Free The Tiger Queens by Stephanie Thornton Page A

to draw water but far enough away to avoid any unseasonable ice floes that might be pushed overland as the river broke apart. I counted only ten people in all as we dismounted our horses, including his mother, Hoelun, and his father’s faded second wife, Sochigel, whose only remaining beauty was the exquisite moccasins beaded by her own hands. I would soon discover that Sochigel had fallen silent when her eldest son died, refusing to speak now that the light had gone out of her life.
    Hoelun enjoyed a happy reunion with my mother, then circled me and smacked her lips, revealing several missing teeth.
    “A plain face, but with fire in her eyes,” she said, echoing the words of her husband from long ago.
    That wasn’t the first time I wished the spirits had gifted me with eyes like mud.
    A hunchbacked crone shuffled to my side, bringing a whiff of staleurine that made me cringe. A childless widow since her only son was killed in a raid, Mother Khogaghchin had been alone on the steppes when Hoelun found her and took her into her own tent. The old woman wore a leather girdle to keep from wetting herself, having long ago lost the power to control her waters. Her grin revealed gums as pink as a newborn’s and a whiff of the foulest breath I’d ever smelled. “She has good hips, too,” she said. “We’ll get plenty of foals from this one.”
    “My daughter is more valuable than a broodmare.” My mother’s tone was biting as she first felt and then cut the ropes of the pack her horse had carried all this way. Temujin’s clan gave a collective gasp as she shook out a stunning black sable coat, a fur more valuable than a herd of the fastest horses. She held it up to the Eternal Blue Sky and then held it out in Temujin’s direction. “Dei the Wise and his wife, Chotan, wish to offer this sacred gift to the husband of our daughter, Borte Ujin.”
    Temujin stared at her for a moment and reached out to touch the fur, its black hairs quivering in the breeze. He shook his head. “This is too rich a prize, even for such a woman as Borte Ujin,” he said. “I cannot accept such a gift from those who have already given so much.”
    My mother pressed the fur closer. “You must take it, to give to Ong Khan.”
    Temujin lifted his gaze to mine. This was no gift, then, but the price of peace. Ong Khan would never refuse such a gift and would pledge to protect Temujin and his clan, come what may. This exquisite gift might be enough to keep my prophecy at bay.
    “Chotan is right,” Jamuka said. “It is a fitting gift, and one that will bring you renown and a glorious alliance with the khan.”
    Still Temujin hesitated, but Teb Tengeri finally dismounted his silver-white horse and hobbled over, inspecting the fur while leaning heavily on his cane. “This gift shall indeed bring you good fortune,” he said.
    I scowled at the crippled shaman. Teb Tengeri had separated himself from us during the journey, riding alone and sharing Jamuka’s fire at night. Only now, surrounded by the familiar curve of the river and the stark outline of the mountains he knew so well, did the holy man with the withered leg feel safe enough to assert himself. It was then that I knew TebTengeri for the coward he was and first recognized the hunger for power in his soul.
    I recognized it because now that I’d seen the camp I would rule one day, I felt its foreign teeth gnawing at my heart as well.
    I shifted, blocking Temujin’s view of his shaman, and said, “Good fortune matters naught. This is a fitting gift for the man who has pledged to protect me, despite what storms may wait on the horizon.”
    Temujin took my meaning and finally accepted the fur. “I am humbled,” he said to my mother. “I swear to you that I shall shelter Borte Ujin from any storm, and the steppes shall bask in the warmth of her smiles.”
    My mother narrowed her eyes at him in such a way that my skin prickled with dread, for despite her blindness, it was as if she was