Page 59 of Wings of Ebony
The paramedics should be almost here.
Brian. His name is Brian.
I fire off a text to Tash without details, telling her to stay put, then, swipe up on my watch and my missed messages from Bri pop up.
Bri: Rue??? You ok??? Hello??? I can’t hack it!!!! Rue??? I’m so scared!! Rue???
Me: Ready my watch signal with a cloaking spell. I’m coming back to Ghizon.
Bri: OMG I was so worried. Okay! Ready in 5…
I’ve already called nine-one-one. Avenging Brian, protecting us—all of us—is the best I can do now.
Bri: 4…
I need my magic back. Whatever it takes.
Bri: 3…
I grit my teeth, anger dancing with my sadness.
Bri: 2…
Thereisone Ghizoni who might be willing to help.
Bri: 1…
My father, Aasim.
CHAPTER 19
Four Months Ago
THE FOOD IN GHIZONis probably the most tolerable part. It doesn’t taste too bad. It needs some seasoning, and by that I don’t mean salt and pepper. That’s a given. It’s what you add after that, Ms. Leola would say, that gives it flavor.
Aasim sits across from me in the kostarum, which is basically like a cafeteria (“food room” is the literal translation, I think) for all Bound students in training. Most give my table a wide berth, but it doesn’t faze me at this point.
I scoop the leez, a creamy puréed-looking substance, and take a bite, intent on not looking straight ahead. It’s savory-sweet on my tongue, like garlic when it’s been roasted awhile. These weekly lunches were not my idea. They were his. Avoiding him is easy enough on a regular day, between dorm, class, eating, and hanging with Bri (and Luke, the latest development in our posse, a.k.a Bri’s new boyfriend).
But here, when he’s sitting across from me, it’sthemost annoying part of my week. Bri sits a few tables over hugged up with Luke. I told her to come get me in ten. Act like it was some urgent study thing. She winks at me, Luke’s arm snaked around her neck.
I don’t even understand them. How you just met but you in love?Bri ain’t even social like that. But Luke came checking for her, showering her with attention, and of course she didn’t know how to act. So now I guess we’re a posse of three.
“How were classes?” Aasim asks and I catch sight of the disappointment in his face.
“Fine.” I take another bite of meat, watching food trays whisk through the air to self-sudsing cleaning stations.
“That’s it?” He folds his arms, sitting back. “Which class is your favorite?”
I don’t understand what he wants from me. He’s never once apologized for not being there. Not like I wanted him to. But, just saying, he never even acknowledged it. He acts like this fifteen minutes of face-to-face time each week can make it like he was there. He wasn’t.
I chew.
He waits.
I chew some more. (I probably could have swallowed a while ago.)
“History.”
