30. Zeina
ZEINA
“What the…” Zeina was tucked in behind the rice bags, hands folded like pretzels under her chin, when the cook’s voice cut through her dream. “There’s a student in here.”
Instinct kicked in, and she was up on her feet before she had even properly awoken.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Me?” As everything came into sharp focus, Zeina tried to come up with an excuse.
What reason would Ahmina have for being here?
“Must have been sleepwalking. Studying too much. You know how it is!” She tried to laugh it off and slip by the cook when the woman grabbed her arm.
Another cook came into view, their frames backlit by the pre-dawn glow pouring into kitchen.
It was dark. She couldn’t make out the details of their faces.
Maybe, if luck was on her side, they couldn’t make hers out either.
“I’ve worked here for thirty years; you think I can’t tell when a barely out of the womb child like you is lying?”
Barely out of the womb? She was twenty-four. The other cook turned on the light, revealing Zeina’s face. “We will take you to Headmaster Adeyemi at once. It’s strictly forbidden for students to be in the kitchens.”
“Fire!!! There’s a fire in the kitchen!” someone yelled from the second room where the ovens were, separated by a stone wall with an arched doorway.
Both cooks turned. A fire this early? They hadn’t even started cooking yet.
But Zeina didn’t question it. As soon as the cooks hurried to the ovens, Zeina bolted.
Her lungs burned as she made her way out into the courtyard, flopping down on a bench at the far edge of the gardens, hidden out of sight.
The courtyard was stunning; it was a shame she didn’t get to enjoy it more often.
She leaned her head back, breathing in the cool morning air.
The smell of seasonal fruits in bloom filled her senses, and she relished in the free moment to enjoy it without watchful eyes.
They didn’t catch you, she told herself to help calm her nerves. But deep down, she knew that had been a close one. Too close.
She sighed and a small tickle fluttered on her thigh. She opened her eyes and looked down to see the Purring Songbird sitting there, wings tucked at its side.
Zeina jiggled her leg, thinking the bird would flee, but it stayed, braced on her thigh.
She had enough problems; she didn’t need a creature following her around, making her hear things.
“Just because I helped you in the Apothecary doesn’t mean you need to follow me around like a lost toddler,” Zeina said, giving the bird a gentle nudge.
“Go be free and do your magical creature business away from me, okay? I don’t want any part of it.
It will just give them another reason to lock me up. ”
The Songbird tilted its head, as if it were listening. You’re welcome. Its soft, ethereal voice was in Zeina’s mind.
Startled, she sat up straight and the bird fluttered, catching balance in the air before settling back down into her lap.
Zeina studied the creature for a moment.
Unlike the other students here, she hadn’t come to the Academy hell bent on slaughtering creatures beyond the wall.
In fact, she couldn’t care less about the creatures, defending the wall, or gaining the adoration of Jarrian society.
She had no one to honor or protect. The Academy was a place for her to learn, eat, and sleep.
That’s all. And years and years of sneaking around had taught Zeina that assumptions give you nothing but trouble.
So instead, she stayed present, open, watchful.
You’re welcome, the bird repeated into her mind.
What could the bird have possibly helped her with?
She recalled the events of the night: the gentle buzzing of the bird in the pantry with her as she slept, the cooks discovering her, someone screaming “fire!” the lack of smoke present when she ran out of the kitchen.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” The Encylopedia’s description came back to mind.
Can make you hear things that aren't real.
The fire. It wasn’t real. The Songbird had created a distraction for her to escape.
Yes. That’s why I said you’re welcome. The bird spoke to her telepathically, and Zeina realized the bird could also hear her thoughts.
They studied each other, as it sat peacefully on her lap.
And in that moment, Zeina felt something growing.
A baby seed planted in dark soil under the surface.
Something she had never experienced before.
Friendship.
She named the bird Aria, meaning song of the sky, a vibrant light. “I don’t know if that’s your name, but that’s what I’m calling you,” she had said, and when it didn’t respond, she took that as acceptance.
They sat together, watching the sun rise over the wall, projecting early morning shadows across the courtyard. The adrenaline from her near miss had settled, and now her body ached with exhaustion, her stomach grumbling.
She was about to head back inside to steal a bit of breakfast bread and dragon fruit when she saw a figure walking toward the castle.
Zeina knew every detail of the Academy schedule. It was very unusual for there to be anyone returning from beyond the wall at this hour.
But even from a distance, she knew who it was: Ren Elmerian.