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Chapters (47)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. TUESDAY EVENING
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. WEDNESDAY MORNING
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. MIDDAY
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. EVENING
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. SUNDAY
  41. EPILOGUE
  42. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  43. GoFish: Questions for the Author
  44. Excerpt: Travelers Along the Way
  45. CHAPTER ONE
  46. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  47. Newsletter Sign-up

Zeena had balked at the thought of deserting our comrades, but Omar had ordered us: Leave now, and do not turn back. A direct command from our captain. I think he told Zeena to go on and defend Jerusalem, but we knew that part of the order didn’t matter as much.

We had to run.

The only thing left in our way is the city’s famous walls.

And a Faranji siege.

And, also, the siege of al-Nasir that surrounds that.

And, of course, the invaders who would be reaching the city’s port by now, attacking the other side of Akko and potentially breaching the inside and spurring any troops on this side of the wall to approach.

And, not to mention, still surviving this climb.

Simple, right?

A laugh bubbles up in the back of my throat, and I bite my tongue in order to keep it from escaping. Mostly to avoid Zeena’s glare again.

Focus.

One handhold and one foothold at a time. Finding the rhythm is always the tricky bit. Doesn’t matter if you’re scaling trees or walls, you’ve got to set a pace. Hand to foot to hand to foot. The movement must stay smooth. The movement must be balanced. The movement doesn’t have to be fast, just consistent.

I keep moving.

A small thud sounds below me. Zeena’s made it down, mashallah.

The rest of my climb is mercifully uneventful. I make it down without thinking further of Zeena’s frustration or the expression in Omar’s eyes as he ordered us to abandon our company. He was the only one who would look at us; the rest averted their gaze, knowing that this would never have been asked of them. I try not to think of the cast of rage on Zeena’s face as I pulled her away from our fellow soldiers.

I try not to think much of anything at all anymore.

As my own feet touch the soft earth, I say a short prayer, in the smallest of whispers. “Allahu Akbar.”

“Save it,” says Zeena. “We’ve only just done the easy bit.”

I hate her for saying it. Mostly, I hate that she’s right. Again.

Thank you for reading this Feiwel & Friends book.

The friends who made

This Is
All Your
Fault

possible are:

Jean Feiwel, Publisher

Liz Szabla, Associate Publisher

Rich Deas, Senior Creative Director

Holly West, Senior Editor

Anna Roberto, Senior Editor

Kat Brzozowski, Senior Editor

Alexei Esikoff, Senior Managing Editor

Kim Waymer, Senior Production Manager

Erin Siu, Associate Editor

Emily Settle, Associate Editor

Rachel Diebel, Assistant Editor

Foyinsi Adegbonmire, Associate Editor

Liz Dresner, Associate Art Director

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR