One Night

Chapter Seventeen

Alara

Zayen is gone, along with some of the money that we had remaining.

"We have to carry on without him," Akilah says, packing everything back into an overfilled satchel. "We don't have time to search for him."

Nawaz shrugs and pushes open the front door of my home. The door nearly comes off it's hinges as it opens.

It doesn't make sense that Zayen would run off without a reason. He cares about those kids, which means it's unlikely he would walk away like this.

Something has to be wrong. "We should look for him," I say.

Akilah shakes her head, following Nawaz out the door. "We have no clues to where he went. It would be foolish to waste time like that."

I glance back over the inside of my house, searching for any sign of him. It all looks exactly the same, untouched. She's right—he left no note, no signs, nothing for us to follow. He either ditched us, or made an unbelievably stupid move.

"We should leave a note for him. In case he comes back."

"Do as you wish," Akilah says, not stopping. I don't understand why she is in such a rush. It's not like any of her loved ones are trapped in a castle with guards ready to let them drop dead at a words notice.

With a deep sigh, I lift my own small bag of items to carry with me and step out into the heat of the sun.

Maybe if I knew more about Akilah, I'd feel relaxed around her. I don't know where she is taking us, I don't know what her values are and I don't know who she works for. There is nothing that I know about her, besides her name. She could be lying about that, too.

Freeing me from prison was a kind gesture that could have been done purposefully, for her own benefit—because she is now armed with a prince. He is worth a lot. Nothing is stopping her from betraying us. She has no reason to give the stone over, except that she gave her word.

I pause in my tracks. She seems more in a rush now that the one guard, who was sent to protect Nawaz, is gone. This is suspicious.

But I am not on good enough terms with the prince to tell him not to trust her, or not to follow her. The Hakeem seemed to believe she would return.

I guess I will have to be the one to make sure nothing happens to him now.

"Think I'd give up that easily?" A voice calls out, his tone so rough that I almost don't recognise it.

He—My heart stretches when my eyes find him. There are cuts and bruises on his bare arms. His hair is damp and there is another cut on his temple that he doesn't seem bothered by, even though it is still damp with blood.

"What did you do?" Nawaz asks. His tone is more curious than concerned. It's a bit sad that the future leader of our land has so little empathy. But when have our leaders ever been good?

Zayen now wears a checkered black and white keffiyeh on his head, folded and tied at the back like a bandana. It seems to have slowed some of the bleeding.

"I brought transport." He tilts his head back, nodding towards the three horses that are following behind him. Their hooves step in sync, creating a calming rhythm as they walk.

He is grinning, proud of himself, even though he can barely walk straight and is losing a lot of blood.

"I think we should play a game called 'how many fights can Zayen lose on this journey'," Nawaz says.

"A thank you would be nice." He wipes some of the blood off his face with the back of his hand. "And I won. I will train, to make sure I keep winning."

"Shukran." Nawaz nods.