DH AN: Here's Chapter Three of An Heiress' Mantle. Geeze, I think everything about this is my favorite.


Chapter Three

Naasr steps out of the car, shaking. He exhales and paces across the courtyard. His pager goes off and his steps are slow until he reaches the portion of the mansion that holds The Cobras' headquarters. He inhales sharply. What would Salim want him for now?

He groans. Another solo mission. Which means another quick apology to Benu right before he leaves- this is the third one in a week. He braces his shoulders and proceeds.

He hates everything about these corridors. It's a miracle he knows where his employer's office and his own sleeping quarters are. The dimness of the halls is concerning and the way the torches splash shadows all over the walls force him to keep an eye out for real snakes.

After an attempt to shrug off the discomfort, Nassr paces down the winding solitary hallway after a handful of near missteps; he'd entered the maze through a route he didn't use regularly.

He stops before the cherry wood door bearing intricate circular patterns etched into its surface.

He offers a nod to the sentry to the right of the door, who provides a stiff nod of acknowledgement back. Nassr enters the office and shuts the door. He steps out of the doorway and puts his hands behind his back with a wide stance that's not quite straight, as he doesn't wish to pass out.

He waits to be addressed. It's nerving. The large room doesn't help either. Anything that could be considered an office only takes up a third of the long side of the room. It is ideal for hosting briefings by regiment but solo briefings are terrifying… far too much space.

"Well you responded quickly for once." Nassr stiffens. "Usually it takes you longer."

Nassr stays silent as the chair turns to reveal steel gray eyes, underneath short clipped brown hair that is graying at the roots. The man threads his fingers together. And his eyes narrow.

Nassr swallows his nerves, kicking himself internally as he registers his colored contact lenses were actually in his pocket the whole morning. Green is frowned upon, he has no idea why. "You wanted to see me, Master Salim?"

Salim shows an unsettling smile. "I have another assignment for you."

"Yes?"

Nassr eyes Salim warily as he steps from behind the desk with a tan folder in hand. It's almost overstuffed. "The R.H. has stolen something I want."

"Just how do you know it was him?"

"His calling card...the man is very fond of purple and gold." Salim's smile stretches further as he removes a deep purple cloth the size of a handkerchief from the folder. He folds it over his hand and there is golden embroidery visible. "I wonder what 'F. R.' could possibly mean... Perhaps a lover... Certainly seems more feminine." He tucks it back into the folder. "I doubt he even knows he lost it."

"What is it you want from me?" Nassr has to keep himself from snapping.

"I want you to go and get that item for me."

"You realize that the Rare Hunters' headquarters are very well-hidden... How do you expect to find it?"

"The possible location has been narrowed down to a quadrant. Surely one with your skills should be able to locate it." Salim presses the folder into Nassr's hands.

"And if the rumors are true about The R.H.'s magic stick?"

"It's only rumor." Salim reclaims his seat. "You're dismissed."

"Yes Sir." Nassr turns on his heel and exits.


I detest night rounds. However, as current circumstances necessitate, I coordinated with Odion to alternate every other night. I'm on my last scan of the lower corridors, flashlight in hand.

I open the door to the garage area and pass the flashlight beam through the darkness. As I near the center of my sweep, I immediately shield my eyes as the light bounces back from the silver of headlights. It's odd. Those who have vehicle privileges know not to park in the center.

I decide quickly, turning the flashlight to face the door, shutting the door and cutting the light to give the illusion that I've gone inside. I can still barely make sight of the car. My muscles freeze as I hear those same familiar footsteps. He shouldn't be here.

"Mr. Nassr." The footsteps cease as I briefly fumble for the light switch to bathe the room in soft light. He hides behind the car. My steps are careful for two reasons: he's probably armed and I'm definitely not. I crouch a few feet away. "Mr. Nassr what business do you have here?" From one glance I can tell he's not in the same shape I saw him in earlier. His posture is slack and defensive and he's running his hands through his strikingly blond hair and the movement is wracked with nerves. What I can see of his face is exhausted, though his eyes are now blue- surely the result of colored contacts. "If you won't tell me why you're here, perhaps some food will loosen your tongue." I rise. "You have no idea how many circumstances are in your favor. If you leave this room, a camera will record it and I can't guarantee your safety." I hesitate, this is an extreme breach in protocol but Nassr isn't a threat I want to risk creating. "I'd rather not see what The R.H. actually does to trespassers."

Nassr doesn't respond. Turning on a heel, I head straight up to the kitchen. I grab a small bowl, ladle soup that Raji keeps perpetually warm into it, and drop a hunk of cold brown bread into the bowl as well. Wedging a spoon into my pocket, I make my journey back.

It goes well without a hitch and I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I need is someone like Micheas, brilliant but unfortunately victim to many a few slip ups that have damaged any credibility, to catch sight of Nassr. 'Highly sought' can't even begin to cover how valuable a target the members who make up The Cobras negotiation squad are separately.

I step back into the garage. "For someone presumably skilled at break-ins, this is certainly risky." I place the bowl and spoon in front of him, stepping back a few feet and taking a seat on the ground. "Do you have any idea how valuable you are? How easy it would be for me to turn you over to my employer?" His eyes dilate in fear. "If you give me no reason to, we'll be fine." I feel the cold inch into my skin. Short sleeves aren't great for trapping heat.

He takes the bowl and spoon, sets it aside and removes his jacket. I flinch as I see his pistol again. He rises and steps toward me. I'm rooted in fear and simultaneously wanting to scoot back.

"Why would I harm you when you have been nothing but kind to an exhausted moron who found his target by pure luck?" His voice is simultaneously soft and sonorous as he gently puts his still warm coat across my shoulders and opens the passenger side of his car, placing the pistol in the glove box.

"What do you mean by luck?"

"Your employer keeps his headquarters very well. No one knows the exact location."

"So how did you find it, Mr. Nassr?" I now watch him warily.

He returns to his soup. "It was narrowed down to an incorrect quadrant." He devours the bread. "I just came to the plateau because it was the only landmark for miles. It was shelter."

I pale. "Why are you here?"

"I came to retrieve an item The R.H. stole from my employer. A ritual knife, gold and rich volcanic glass handle with veins outlined with the same glass in the silver of the blade." He drains the bowl. "Do you know of it, Ms. Sharti?"

"Know of it?" I breathe, trying my best not to shake in terror. "I retrieved it from its resting place."

He stands again, carefully steps towards me and stoops down in front of me. "Look in the inner pocket of the coat." The order is soft.

I pluck a crumpled piece of yellow note paper from the pocket, paling as my eyes sweep across two sets of thirteen letters. "How do you know this?... How do you know this?"

"What sort of brother would I be if I didn't recognize my own sister's name in multiple presentations?"

"What kind of brother runs off knowing full well that his sister will be interrogated the morning after?!" I stand and in rage, strike him swiftly on his cheek. "You left me!" I collapse. "You left me... And for what? A situation that is just as dangerous as the one you left! You stupid boy!"

"So The R.H. is..." I nod before he can finish his sentence. It's far easier if I just say yes than try to explain complexities. "You have his eyes."

"You hide that you have hers."

"You seem to have done well for yourself." He brushes aside the accusation.

"Just go, Nassr. " I fight my tears. "I don't know where the knife is now and even if I did... I can't give it to you."

"Still loyal to a fault, I see."

"Is that what you call it?"

"You think that there is a better explanation?"

"Do you know what having your brain sifted through feels like?" I shudder. "It's not pleasant."

"That stick isn't just a rumor..." Nassr pales drawing a familiar purple handkerchief from his pants pocket.

"Of course no-" His slightly trembling hand as well as the item therein grab my attention. "Wh-Where did you get that?"

"When a retrieval team went for the knife, they found this pinned under one of the boulders blocking the entrance."

"He didn't intentionally leave that behind. He would never..."

"I know, which is why I brought it back. It's mate is buried with... With Mother." Nassr's voice goes soft, with a familiar reverence. "Her favorite color, a hunter's green, with his initials in silver thread."

"Anniversary gift?"

"It was from one of their dates...before they were married, so Mother told me...once." He places the cloth into my hands. "Guess this means he still loves her..."

"You doubt that?" I search his face for any denial. "I can't convince you."

"You don't understand."

"I've never understood." I watch him massage his cheek... Where I struck him moments before. "I'm having trouble understanding why you...just let me do that."

He puffs air from his nose. "I'm just glad you didn't drop kick me."

I quickly wrap my arms around him and squeeze. "I missed you." He says nothing but his fingers gently tousle my hair as if nine years had never passed. "And… I like the new name… it fits." I see small attempts at a smile as I break the hug. So reminiscent of his fa- my breath hitches before I can finish the thought.

"You should go." I rise. "I'm overdue for a briefing and I'd rather not look like I've been ripped apart by my emotions. That's his job…" My expression sours… of all the days to have something like this happen…

"Is it hard...dealing with him?" Nassr stands, and closing the gap between us with two long strides, he reads all the nonverbal cues… my shaking, the labored breathing, and just when did I start twisting my hair?

"Some days are better than others..." Everything but the hair-twisting ceases.

"Today?" He catches my wrist and pulls it down to my right side, putting a stop to the action.

"If you don't leave soon, it will be among one of the less favorable."

"Even if you were successful?"

"Humor me and switch our roles in your head for a moment."

"Like I'd be caught dead in a dress..." He laughs.

"Not what I meant." I rub the bridge of my nose. "It's capture the flag. And you're the flag, Nassr. Valuable and very much a game changer."

"How flattering."

"Here are my terms: you won't reveal this location and I let you go." I hesitate. "If you can't do that, at least promise me you will do whatever you can to keep the information from falling into the wrong hands. You always keep your promises..." I nudge him on the shoulder. "Remember? You promised you wouldn't forget me..."

"And I never did."

"You can confirm that we have the item he wants and that negotiations will be pending." I step back and watch him get in the car.

He rolls down the window. "Your intimidation could use some work, lacks the proper shall we say persuasion."

"You caught me on a bad day."

He shakes his head at me and reverses the car. I shield my eyes from the morning rising sun as the wall slides aside for his exit. It closes after with a dull thud. The only sign of him was a piece of yellow paper gripped tightly in my hand, the purple cloth held loosely in the other and his jacket that still clings to my shoulders.


DH: Do I have a lot of explaining to do? Yes… Do I really want to do it in the author's notes… Not really.I will say that yes, Nassr has definitely grown on me, and aside from VERY rare circumstances his former name will not be used. It's fun getting to work him mostly from the ground up. And again, (and you'll hear me saying this so often it'll be tiresome) Ataahua not only gets credit for the idea, but also is letting me use Salim.

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