When Azura arrived at the Amazon encampment, two guards barred her entry.

Standing her ground and dressed in Amazon regalia, her face painted with a henna depiction of a successful battle, feather headdress, shield, and spear, she said, “I demand to see the queen.”

The taller guard said, “That’s not happening.”

Azura pounded the shaft of her spear on her shield before she drove it point first into the ground at the guard’s feet. They were not going to fuck her around. “By the right accorded me as an Amazon warrior, I call for an audience with my queen.”

She knew what she was doing. What she had uttered was a formal ultimatum, the words inscribed in law, to meet with the leader of her breed, a request that could not be denied.

The guard, quiet to this point, curled her lip in a snarl, eying Azura with a bit more fear. “Follow me. If you try anything funny, I’ll take you prisoner.”

“Believe me. I’m not feeling very funny. And don’t think you two can take me down. I’m a first-degree warrior. You’re not.”

They had the good sense to recognize her status and shut up, leading her to the queen’s office in the government building. Once escorted inside, Azura bobbed her head, her deference minimal. She held out the sheet of paper. “My demand in writing.”

The queen pushed back her chair. It squeaked with the movement. Tapping a pen on her desk, she said, “Mind your manners, Azura.”

“Believe me. My manners at this moment are impeccable. If I showed how I felt, you’d be aghast.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” The queen waved her fingers. “Gimme. Gimme.”

Once Azura handed her the request, she scanned the note. “Your plea is most irregular.”