The air in the Great Council Hall in Cirta was cold, three months after King Massin's death. The scent of funeral incense failed to mask the dusty smell of the worsening drought that plagued the kingdom. King Massin's massive cedar coffin was a dark centerpiece. Anir, at 19, stood beside it, looking more like a young man playing a role than the formidable General the legions obeyed. His military attire was his only identity.
Prime Minister Adar struck the floor with his staff, his eyes tracing the severe lines of the two youths before him. "Today, the Council ends its deliberation. The Kingdom is tearing itself apart. The choice for the throne, by the King's will, falls between Prince Anir, adopted son and military heir, and Prince Ghilas, fostered son and political heir."
Lord Yuba immediately moved to Ghilas's side, placing a hand on the eighteen-year-old's shoulder—a gesture that was more possessive than supportive. "My son, Ghilas, speaks for the future. Anir's strength is in battle, but a King must govern, not merely conquer."
Anir faced him. "Massin took me, Lord Yuba, when I was barely older than a child, and forged me into the sword of this kingdom. The 'strategy' your son champions is one that starves the military to enrich the merchants."
Ghilas flinched at the word "son," but held his ground, stepping away from his father's touch. "I champion the survival of the people, Anir. Your army's discipline does not fill empty cisterns. My engineers have found a path to double Cirta's water supply. Your only path is to enforce more military law and watch us shrivel."
"And who, Prince, will guard the gates when your 'vision' leaves us vulnerable?" Anir's green eyes locked onto Ghilas's, the private pain flashing between them. "You are just a boy, Ghilas, playing with charts and ledgers when you should be holding a blade!"
The debate was cut short as the doors opened, and Princess Tilelli entered. "The time for schoolyard bickering is over. My clan does not waste its forces on indecisive leadership." She addressed Ghilas. "Prince Ghilas. My Clan El-Hamma controls the only army capable of defeating the General's legions. I offer this force to the King. I demand the title of Queen. I demand a marriage of state."
Lord Yuba leaned in, whispering urgently: "Take the deal, Ghilas. You take the crown, you take everything."
Ghilas's voice was clear, but hollow. "Prime Minister. I accept the Princess's terms. I will marry Tilelli and unite the kingdom under her clan's power."
"You sacrifice everything," Anir whispered, a raw sound the whole council heard.
Ghilas turned his back on Anir, addressing the council. "I sacrifice my life, General, so Numidia may survive yours."
Hours later, Ghilas found Anir in his chamber.
"Leave, Prince. Go plan your wedding."
"I came here to tell you I hate every moment of this."
Anir seized Ghilas. "Then why did you agree! You knew what that meant, Ghilas!"
"It was the only way to save Cirta, Anir. I will not watch my people die for a secret love." Anir silenced him with a desperate, painful kiss.
"Did you tell her?"
"No. And neither will you. From this moment, we are rivals. The kingdom cannot know we are allies."
"I will go north, and wait. But if I ever see that Carthaginian crescent on the horizon, Ghilas, you will call on me."
"I swear it. Now go. You have a Queen to marry."
Two days later, Anir was already north when a rider arrived with devastating news: General Hanno and the Carthaginians had invaded, seizing Hippo Regius and marching toward Thugga—the grain reserves. Anir didn't hesitate. "Send a messenger to Cirta. Tell Prime Minister Adar the wedding is cancelled. Tell Prince Ghilas the throne will have to wait." He mounted his horse. "We ride for Thugga. I swore an oath. And I will not let Carthage burn the only thing Ghilas ever truly cared about—his people."