As a multiethnic kid, Keon Wesley has always had to straddle two worlds. He just never expected that metaphor to become a literal reality.
Ever since his dad left five weeks ago, he's struggled to adjust to life in a single parent household. When a...
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Aslan hadn't bothered to brief his father. It wouldn't matter what he said, he'd still find a way to blame him anyway. Why give him the satisfaction of embarrassing him in public? Fully armoured in his fatigues, the only glimpse he caught of the Rayiys was as he left the palace. He was looking down on him from atop the stairs, his knuckles white from gripping the golden banister.
Aslan walked with a limp as his feet crunched the broken shards of glass littering the main hall. His attendant had done everything he could to salve his wounds, yet still they stung. It'd be fine by morning, he was sure.
Eight of his best awaited him on the lawn. Brothers from birth. At his approach, they raised their arms and slapped the left sides of their chests in salute. He returned the gesture.
"They can't have gone far," he called. "They'll be looking for a way out. Two of them are stricken, so they'll be slow. They'll want the clearest, shortest path out the palace and that's how we'll head them off. Ayaz! What's the status of the Marble Mynds?"
"Our forces are down by two-thirds. We lost seven in the forest, another nine when the wall blew. We've sent for reserves from the Golden Gate."
"Take what's left and split them between you and Murat. Kadir and Emin, you go with him and cover the Southern Wall. Murat, take Deniz and Taner; use the Mynds you have and seal the breach. Ruslan, Baris; you're with me."
* * *
Keon was working furiously to untie one of the ropes binding the boats. They'd tossed around the idea of taking three boats and burning the other two—but that was probably the quickest way to get caught. The new plan was to set them all loose so no one could follow them. Well, so no one could follow them that way. Apparently Moonlamps flew.
As he unlooped a knot, he looked over at Zahara who was one boat down. She didn't so much as give him a glance. She was acting weird, and right after she'd flung herself at him in front of everyone back at the barracks. Yeah, she'd tried to style it out, but he knew what was up. At least, he thought he did. He hoped he did.
Why was she being off key with him? What had he done? And then there was Shem. To think Avana had actually come to his defence. Sort of. Keon wouldn't have trusted some guy he barely knew with his thoughts, so technically it was his fault.
He chanced a glance at Shem, then realised he'd been scowling at him the entire time. He wasn't even looking at the rope he was untying. It was like his fingertips had eyes.
Keon tried looking for refuge in Dawit, but Avana had made him sit down and catch his breath. His body was still fighting off whatever this 'stricken' thing was and he'd started to overexert himself. That's when Jonas caught his eye, or Jonas' eye caught Keon's. He bowed a gentle nod, pointed at him and did an 'ok' hand gesture.
"You ok?"
Keon shrugged. He thought he saw Jonas' shoulders sag slightly as though burdened. This was, literally, the most they'd directly communicated—but he had the oddest sense that this guy had his back no matter what. God only knew what he'd done to earn such loyalty.
