Free The Faarian Chronicles: Exile by Karen Harris Tully

attention to the names or ask any
questions, only made a few ‘oh reallys’ and ‘mm-hmms’ at appropriate intervals.
He seemed content to pretend that I was interested.
    Every time I looked at him, flashes of teal teeth had me
staring until he noticed and I looked away. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any
longer.
    “Did you eat something… green?” I interrupted his tour guide
impersonation. Except the color wasn’t fading, so I didn’t think that could be
it. I couldn’t think of the Faarian word for teal at that moment, or any other
reason for his teeth to be that color.
    “Why, do I have spinach in my teeth?” He smiled a big
grimace to show me as much of his mouth as possible. Two rows of big, colorful
teeth flashed garishly at me.
    “Nooo… it’s just… the color. Why are they all that color?”
    “What, you don’t like it?” he said with a raised brow and a
hint of teasing challenge. “I just did it myself this morning. I almost went
with the fuchsia again, but it was time for a change,” he laughed.
    Fuchsia. Not knowing how to answer, I stumbled. “No. I mean,
I don’t know. It’s just…” I cocked my head to the side and stared as he
jokingly made funny mouth gestures at me. “Why would you do that?” He laughed
again, a little self-conscious now and started to dig around in his fanny pack,
producing a mirror.
    “No, no, Ethem. They look fine,” Sensei reassured him.
Really? I thought skeptically. She thought dyed teal teeth were attractive? But
then, Sensei had never been the kind of person to just tell people what they
wanted to hear.
    “Sunny’s just never seen dyed teeth before. It’s like your
dyed hair, Sunny,” she explained.
    “Oh,” Ethem seemed relieved. “I didn’t want to ask but your
hair is dyed that color?”
    I nodded.
    “Ethem also wears the traditional Faarian markings for the
Katje Kindred.” Sensei motioned to the side of his face. “His are pretty
simple, but they can be much more elaborate. When we get there, you’ll notice
that the Kindred is a melting pot of peoples originally from all over planet
Earth. Over time, traditions like Ethem’s markings have become unique to this
area.”
    I nodded and shrugged, not really getting it and not in the
mood for a culture lesson. I got up to unwrap my backpack and found my iPhone
thankfully undamaged.
    “How about you?” Ethem asked before I could put my earbuds
in. “Are your eye markings traditional for your people on Earth?”
    “Eye markings?” I asked.
    “Your eye makeup, Sunny,” Sensei prompted.
    “Oh. No, it’s just, you know, makeup,” I replied.
    “They’re temporary, Ethem,” Sensei said. “For fashion.”
    I nodded and inserted my earbuds. Dad’s familiar oldies were
a relief and I turned it up to drown out any new attempts at conversation.
    About two hours into the flight Ethem was shaking my arm and
pointing out the window. It would have been rude to ignore him.
    “There it is: The Kindred,” he said with an air of satisfied
pride when I took out my earbuds. I looked out the window and saw a quilt of
bright green and dark brown rectangles below us growing like an island out of a
sea of desert. And in their midst sat a palace. A humongous, square building
made of brick with a large dome shining at the center of the roof. Four towers
were attached, one at each corner of the main building. Each one was a taller,
skinnier version of the main structure, complete with a little dome winking in
the suns.
    Sheesh! I knew she was rich, but this was ridiculous!
    All these years, I’d been picturing my mother as some kind
of female Middle Eastern sheik strolling through a huge open courtyard of her
desert palace. Maybe I was psychic.
    The dome caught my attention, changing colors as we
approached. It held a flawless reflection of the cloudless purple sky one
minute, then the next, the whole thing flashed golden fire from the red sun.
    The main building must have been least three stories