Diana winced, thinking of what the boy had said. So it was true—Sakina’s mother did have a temper. But it was one thing to lash out at a brutish vendor and another to harm a boy. And to leave him alone on a ship without water or food? That wasn’t just mean; it was cruel.
Diana wondered if her friend knew how badly the boy had been treated. There was no way she could have known and not acted upon it. Sakina would never stand by in the face of injustice. The boy was wrong about this. He had to be. Diana bit her lip. It was as simple as asking her friend a question. Some clarity was all she needed. She’d promised the boy she wouldn’t say anything, but this promise was proving harder and harder to keep.
* * *
* * *
Back at the palace, Sakina and Diana sat under a patio awning. Leafy grapevines wound around the trellises above them, enveloping them in a canopy outside the guest hall. A chessboard rested on the table between them.
“Boom!” Sakina set her pawn down across from Diana’s knight with a dramatic flourish. “You watch. This little pawn is going to take you down, Diana!”
Diana turned her bishop to the right and tapped her foot impatiently. It had been three hours since she’d seen the boy. She’d hoped that by now everyone would start retiring for the evening and she could bring him something to eat and drink, but through the glass windows of the guest hall, the lights twinkled just as bright. Though some women yawned, the party showed no signs of winding down. The Amazons danced and conversed animatedly among their visitors.
“Look who’s beating you at your favorite game today,” Sakina said, knocking down Diana’s knight. “You are not bringing your best self tonight.”
“I’m tired.” Diana swallowed and fixed her eyes on the game board.
“Tired? It’s not even midnight yet. We usually stay up until the sun comes up on my first night here. I was hoping, after this game, we could head to the royal stables to ride the Sky Kangas like last summer.”
“Maybe tomorrow. It’s been a long day,” Diana said tersely.
“All right,” Sakina said suddenly. “Out with it.” She leaned back in her cushioned seat and crossed her arms. “What’s with you?”
“Am I not allowed to get tired?” Diana asked pointedly.
“That’s not what I meant,” Sakina said. “You’ve been acting different ever since we got back from seeing Binti. You know you can tell me anything.”
“It’s nothing. I’m tired. I think I need to get some rest.” Diana stood up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Before Sakina could respond, Diana opened the patio doors, hurried through the guest hall, and entered the kitchen. She pushed away the pinprick of guilt at the thought of the hurt look on her friend’s face. She’d never been short with Sakina before. But she needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. The sooner the better.
The kitchen was empty when she stepped inside. Diana grabbed everything she needed—a container of lamb and vegetables, leftover bread, and a jug of water. She scanned the kitchen to make sure no one was watching her and then slipped out the back door.
It took Diana a while to find the boy. He sat on the dock, concealed partly by the hull of the Scholars’ ship. His feet dangled inches above the water.
“Careful!” Diana quickly called out. “There’s a herd of megalodon sharks that likes to hang out near the docks. They can jump pretty high when they’re hungry.”
The boy startled and turned around. His glasses slid down his nose. He hopped to his feet.
“Y-you’re here,” he stammered.
“I’m sorry it got late. This is a busy week.” She handed him the food and water.
The boy sat cross-legged on the dock and, in a matter of minutes, devoured everything. He gulped the jug of water down in three swallows. It looks like he was definitely telling the truth about how hungry he was, thought Diana.
“I can get you more,” she said once the boy finished.
“This is enough. More than enough.” He wiped his mouth with his torn sleeve. “The lamb was exquisite—roasted to perfection. They must have cooked it on low heat. It’s what I do when I need to draw out flavor from the herbs I work with, and…” His voice trailed off. He blushed. “Sorry, I get caught up on the properties of things, food or otherwise. Thank you. I hadn’t eaten in some time.”
“So,” Diana said. She sat down next to the boy. “You know my name. But I don’t know yours.”
“Oh, right.” The boy’s smile faltered. “My name is Augustus.”
“Augustus,” Diana repeated. “It’s a nice name. Not from the Scholar community, though, is it?”
“Oh yes. I mean no. You’re right. I’m originally from Sáz. My family is…They’re poor. I work as a servant, and that way I c-can send money home.”
“It must be awful to live so far from your family.”
“It’s honest work, and, well, we need it. Besides, it could be worse,” the boy said. He studied the ground.
“I’ve heard of your lands,” Diana said. “You build chariots for the gods, don’t you?”
“Yes!” He nodded. “We make brilliant chariots. All sorts. For parades and festivities and for the more practical ruling needs the gods may have. It’s our specialty.”
“And you make potions in your spare time?”
“Chariot making runs through my blood, but it gets dull sometimes. There are only so many different ways to make them. Sáz sits on a former volcano, and the area is rich in plants and minerals—perfect for potion making. Mr. Broderick, our town’s apothecary, let me study under him and learn how to make them. Mr. Broderick says—I mean…he said—back when I lived on Sáz, that I have a real knack for it.”
“Must be nice. To be gifted at something,” Diana said. She wasn’t sure if she could say the same for herself.
The boy looked up at her then.
“Sáz isn’t too far away,” he said. “I brought a chariot with me. Uh, snuck it in the hull so no one would discover it. Thought I’d visit my family while I was here.”
“It can fly all on its own?”
“With a certain potion, yes.” He patted his pocket. He looked at her and hesitated. “I’d love to take you to Sáz and show you around tonight, if you’re interested.”
“Tonight?”