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's wide, grey eyes—that seemed almost way too big for his eleven-year-old head—gazed in wonder at the diamond-encrusted, curved dagger. The tip of his nose squished into a tiny, round pancake as he pressed his face against the cold glass. The blade had fascinated him since he'd first laid eyes on it. A thirty-five-centimetre-long scabbard, beset with jewels, and three huge Colombian emeralds on the handle.
He knew it wasn't magical. That was ridiculous. But still, it held some kind of power over him. Whenever they visited the Treasury, his thoughts became entangled by it and all he could do was stare.
"How do you get emeralds all the way from Colombia to the Ottoman Empire anyway?" said Asya, sauntering up beside him, exasperated.
He did this every time they came here. She'd wanted to go sit in the Baths of the Sultan and fantasise about being pampered and bathed in expensive oils. That probably wouldn't happen now for at least another twenty minutes. After all, Aslan had spent the last forty just staring at this thing.
"I told you. They were probably loaded onto Spanish galleons sailing to Cuba before crossing the Atlantic to Spain. From Spain, the royal family took some of the treasure and sold the rest throughout Europe, the Middle East and Asia," he replied.
Asya snorted under her breath. His nose squashing against the glass made him sound like a duck.
He extracted his face from the display case—his palms still pressed against it—and turned to glare at her.
"I don't see what's funny."
She cocked her head to the side with a narrow-eyed smile.
"You don't see much at all, do you?"
He knew that look. The look that said she was up to something, and he'd probably get the blame for it.
"What are you doing?" he said, squinting at her.
"Entertaining myself. If I have to watch you watch that thing all day, I might as well make it interesting," she said, rummaging through her neon-pink backpack.
His jaw dropped in mortified horror at the ring of jangling keys she extracted from the bag.
"Where did you get that?!" he hissed, stepping towards her.
"Baba's office."
"You have to put it back!"
"I do not," she scoffed.
"He will kill you!"
"Oh, Aslan. He wouldn't dare," she said, batting her eyelids at him in feigned pity.
"Asya, please!" he said, arms drooping in despair, "You always do this and I'm always the one who gets it!"
"Are you seriously telling me you've never once wanted to touch it?"
