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Chapter 1
Of Lunja and Gossip
Ididn’t know what was more unsettling: that the Lunja had crossed the border into Midar, or that no one seemed to know why. In a land where everyone had an opinion on everything, this was a rare exception.
The only person who seemed to have any answers—our chieftain, the Caid—was keeping them to himself.
What did he know?
And why wouldn’t he tell anyone else?
That was unlike him. The Caid was forthcoming, always eager to share information. But now, in the middle of a crisis, he was clamming up. I couldn’t blame him. If I had answers, I wouldn’t want to share them either.
Answers led to more questions, and that led to consequences.
The last thing we needed was panic.
But people were already gossiping. I could feel it in the air, an electric current that prickled my skin. All it would take was one person to shout “fire” and the whole place would go up in flames.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
The last thing we needed was a repeat of the Rebellion of The Golden Swan age. The only thing left of that fiasco was the ashes and rubble of what used to be the Great Wall of Midar.
But the Midarian people had short memories. And they needed answers. Now. So they gossiped and speculated and worried.
Especially my relatives.
My aunt Ghalla was the biggest worrier of them all. “What if the Lunja are planning to invade Midar?” she fretted. “They could be amassing an army as we speak!”
I didn’t share her concerns. If the Lunja wanted to invade, they would have already done so. No, I was more worried about what it meant that they were here at all. Speculations abounded, but no one could come up with a good reason why the Lunja would cross the border.
It was unprecedented. And that made me very, very nervous.
But I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut. No use getting on Ghalla’s bad side.
Besides, I had my own worries to contend with. Worry number one: which desserts should I choose? I stared at the spread of delicacies in front of me, torn between the abundance of choices.
Chebbakia, m’hancha or baklava? Decisions, decisions.
Why not all of them?
Piling up my plate high with all my favorites, I tried to push thoughts of the Lunja out of my mind. But it was hard when they were all people talked about. My eyes scanned the room for my little sister. I could make out her curly brown hair, right behind one of the six pillars. She was laughing with our cousins, carefree and happy.
I smiled. It was good to see her enjoying herself. After what had happened, she deserved a little happiness.
Worry number two quickly presented itself as my aunt Noura. She came up behind me and tapped my shoulder. “You’re eating too much, Thimsal,” she scolded. “What will people say?”
I forced a smile onto my face. I knew what was coming next.
“They’ll say we don’t feed you enough, that’s what!” she continued. “They’ll say we’re starving you!”
Aunt Noura had been on my case since I could eat solid food. She always said I was too skinny or too fat, that I needed to eat more or less. It didn’t matter how much I ate, or how much weight I lost, she always found something to criticize.
“I’m just worried about you, is all,” she said, patting my cheek in a way that was supposed to be comforting, but only made me want to smack her hand away.
“I know, aunt Noura,” I said through gritted teeth.
She shooed me away. “Good. Now, why don’t you join the rest of the family?”
