The Orphan Read Online Free Page A

him back.
    She had left the pomegranate on a slanted, dusty table.
    â€œYou’ll leave no trace of it here,” she called out over her shoulder. “Not even its scent. If I find so much as a single seed, I’ll turn you in to the king’s guard. Oh, and when you’re finished with Frada, go out and fetch me fruit from the market.”
    â€œThank you”—Nico’s voice was hushed with utter astonishment—“my lady.”
    â€œYou will pay me back someday, I assure you,” Zakiti said. “Now I must attend Serug the hunchback, who waits for his weekly purchase at the front door. I will endure his foul odor and rotten teeth today, out of respect for Frada. But this is the last time I do your work for you.”
    As she headed out of the room, I whispered to Nico, “She has a heart, after all.”
    â€œEncased deeply in rock,” he replied. “But I am happy to see it.”
    Quickly he handed me the bowl. I placed the pomegranate inside and opened its skin with the knife. A sweet smell drifted up as I peeled back its rind, revealing plump, red seeds. Juice pilled out from the sides, making my mouth water. I was starving. But Frada came first. “Take these,” I urged her. “Eat.”
    She turned, staring into the bowl with confusion. “Is it . . . really magic?” she said, her voice a raspy whisper.
    â€œYes,” I said with a confidence I didn’t have.
    I forced one seed into her mouth. It was so full of juice it practically vibrated. As she bit down, juice trickled out between her teeth and down her cheeks.
    Nico and I stared hopefully. I didn’t know what to expect. Would she instantly get up and dance? Would it take days or weeks before the seeds took effect? Or would they ever? Perhaps their magic was a rumor, a figment of the king’s twisted imagination.
    Nothing changed in Frada’s face. Her eyes remained unfocused, her voice slurred. “. . . ing,” she said to me.
    â€œWhat?” I replied.
    She swallowed and tried again. “Sing, Daria.”
    I smiled. Frada loved my singing.
    Nico, however, did not. He always made funny faces when I sang.
    I ignored his taunting grin as I sang “Hope Is a Seed, Love Is a Garden.” It is a tune about peace and prosperity, and it had become quite popular with the rebels. I brushed Frada’s hair as I sang, keeping my voice low so Zakiti wouldn’t hear.
    Nico fed Frada pomegranate seeds slowly, one by one. “With a voice like yours, Daria,” he said, “you should perform for the king.”
    I kicked him. “Do you ever stop insulting me?”
    â€œThat was meant to be a compliment!” he insisted. “You have no idea how difficult that was for me to do.”
    â€œI would sooner scream bloody murder in Nabu-na’id’s ear,” I said.
    Soon Frada was full. She turned her head away and fell back to sleep. Her breathing seemed less labored than it had been in the nights before. I touched her forehead. It was cooler. The fever was breaking.
    â€œNico . . .” I murmured. “It’s . . . it’s working!”
    But Nico had drifted to sleep.
    I thought about waking him to announce the good news, but I didn’t have the heart. He looked so peaceful, and he had been working hard.
    I felt shot through with energy. I figured I would run out to gather the fruit and weeds for Zakiti, while Nico stayed at Frada’s side. I owed Zakiti. She had allowed us to save our friend’s life.
    Quietly, I gathered up the pomegranate skins. I would have to dispose of the evidence of my theft.
    Night had fallen. The slums were lit by moonlight as I walked outside.

CHAPTER SIX
    T HE STINK GUIDED me.
    I knew it well—rotten fruit, moldy leaves, half-digested vegetables. The ingredients that made Zakiti’s Miracle Garden Wine. I followed my nose to a dark alleyway beside the ramshackle