“As long as we danced to your tune,” Kaveh snapped. “Forget our desires, our ambitions; everything is in thrall to Ghassan al Qahtani’s grand plans.” His voice was cruel. “And you wonder why Manizheh refused you.”
“I suspect the reason she refused me—however disappointing—sits in front of me now.” Ghassan was eying Kaveh dismissively, but there was a resentment in his gray gaze that he couldn’t entirely mask. “Manizheh clearly had a peculiar . . . taste.”
Nahri’s patience abruptly vanished. “Oh, get over yourselves,” she hissed. “I’m not standing here listening to some old men bicker about a long-lost love. Where is my brother?”
Ghassan’s expression darkened, but he answered. “Somewhere secure. Where he’ll be staying, with people I trust, until the city is calm again.”
“Until you beat us back into obedience, you mean,” Nahri said bitterly. “I’ve been down this path with you before. Why don’t you just tell us what you want?”
Ghassan shook his head. “Direct as always, Banu Nahri . . . But I know your people. Right now, I imagine a good number of Daevas are hungry for shafit blood, and it’s clear the shafit feel similarly. So let us settle things down.” He turned to Kaveh. “You’ll be taking the blame. You will confess to faking the camp assault and arming the shafit who attacked your procession.”
“I had nothing to do with what happened to the procession,” Kaveh said heatedly. “I would never!”
“I don’t care,” Ghassan said flatly. “You will take responsibility. The ruined grand wazir, driven to destruction by his own twisted fanaticism. You will confess to plotting against your Banu Nahida, and after unburdening yourself so, Kaveh . . . .” He nodded coolly toward the wall. “You will take your own life.”
Kaveh’s eyes went wide, and Nahri swiftly stepped forward. “I’m not going to let you—”
“I am not done.” Something different, more complicated to read, flickered across Ghassan’s face. “For your part, Banu Nahida, I am going to need you to send a letter to my youngest and inform him that you have been arrested and charged with being his co-conspirator in an attempted coup. And that you will be executed tomorrow at dawn should he not surrender.”
Nahri felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”
Ghassan waved her off. “Believe it or not, I would rather not involve you, but I know my son. Ali might be happy to martyr himself, but I have no doubt he will no sooner see that letter in your handwriting than throw himself at my feet.”
“And then?” she pressed. “What do you intend to do with him?”
The cold humor vanished from Ghassan’s face. “He will be the one executed for treason.”
No. Nahri exhaled, pressing her hands into fists. “I’m not going to help you trap him,” she replied. “I’m glad he’s taken the Citadel. I hope he takes the palace next!”
“He’s not going to be able to take it by dawn,” Ghassan said evenly. “And you’ll not only write that letter, I’ll have you dragged to the midan so you can weep for him to save you if necessary. Or I’ll kill your brother.”
Nahri recoiled. “You wouldn’t.” Her voice was shaking. “You wouldn’t do that to Muntadhir.”
Ghassan’s brows lifted in faint surprise. “Not one to miss much, are you? Though, yes, Banu Nahida, I would. Indeed, Muntadhir would be wise to learn to keep his heart closer. He risks himself with such affections in this world.”
“What would you even know about affection?” Kaveh cut in, his eyes wild. “You’re a monster. You and your father used Manizheh’s love for her brother to control her and now you plan to do the same to her daughter?” Kaveh glared at Ghassan. “How could you ever claim to care for her?”
Ghassan rolled his eyes. “Save me the false pieties, Kaveh. You’ve too much blood on your hands.”
But Kaveh’s words were the reminder that Nahri needed.
She closed her eyes. She’d tried so hard to wall herself off from the king, to mask her vulnerabilities and make sure there was no chink in the armor she drew around herself. He already had the fate of her tribe in one fist, had used the threat of violence against them to force her into obedience more than once for years.
But her efforts hadn’t mattered. Because he had always had something so much closer. Precious. He’d built a chink into her armor from the start, and Nahri had never even known it was there.
She tried to think. If Ali had taken the Citadel, this was no mere palace revolt; the bulk of the Royal Guard was now out of Ghassan’s hands. She remembered the haunting waves of Geziriyya drifting over the air, recalling what she knew of Daevabad’s neighborhoods. Ali could already be in control of the Geziri Quarter. The shafit district.
She opened her eyes. “You think he can do it, don’t you?” she asked Ghassan. “You think Ali can beat you.”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “You’re very out of your depth, Banu Nahida.”
Nahri smiled; she felt sick. “I’m not. I used to be very good at this, you know. Reading a mark, spotting weaknesses. You and I actually have that in common.” Her throat hitched. “And Jamshid . . . I bet you savored that secret.” She inclined her head toward Kaveh. “I bet you delighted in it every time you saw him, contemplating the ways you could revenge yourself on the man who had the love of the woman you wanted. You wouldn’t give that up easily.”
Ghassan drew up. The king’s face was calm, but Nahri didn’t miss the heat in his voice. “None of this posturing will get your brother back any sooner.”
I’m sorry, Jamshid. I’m so sorry. Nahri exhaled, fighting the deep, awful sadness wrapping her heart. “I won’t help you.”
Ghassan’s eyes flashed. “I beg your pardon?”
“I won’t help you,” she repeated, hating herself. “I won’t let you use my brother against me. Not for any reason.”
Ghassan abruptly stepped closer. “If you don’t do this, Banu Nahida, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to do it slowly and I will make you watch. So you may as well do us all the favor of simply obeying now.”
Kaveh scrambled up, alarm twisting his expression. “Banu Nahri—”
Ghassan backhanded him across the face. The king was obviously stronger than he looked; the blow sent Kaveh sprawling to the floor, a burst of blood on his mouth.
Nahri gasped. But the casual, brutal violence only made her more determined. Ghassan was a monster. But he was a desperate one, and Nahri trembled to think what he would do to Daevabad in the wake of a failed coup.
Which meant she’d have to do all she could to make sure it didn’t fail. “You’re wasting your time, Ghassan. I’m not going to break. This city beats in my family’s blood. In my blood.” Her voice shook slightly. “In my brother’s blood. And if the last Nahids need to die to save it . . .” She stilled her trembling, lifting her chin in defiance. “Then we’ll have served our people well.”
Ghassan stared at her for a very long moment. His expression wasn’t inscrutable now, and he didn’t bother arguing with her. Nahri had read her mark.
And she knew he was about to destroy her for it.
He stepped back. “I’m going to tell Jamshid who he really is,” he said. “Then I’m going to tell him how his sister, having grown tired of sleeping with the man he loves, betrayed them both to save a man he hates.” The words were crude—the last attempt of an angry old man who’d traded decency for a throne that was about to be wrenched away by his own blood. “Then I will finish the job your Afshin started and have your brother scourged to death.”
“No, Ghassan, wait!” Kaveh threw himself before the king. “She didn’t mean it. She’ll write the letter—ah!” He cried out as Ghassan kicked him in the face, stepping around his body and reaching for the door.
With a wail, Kaveh smashed his hand against the stone. Nahri heard a sharp crack, his ring shattering.
A strange coppery haze burst from the broken gem.
In the time it took Nahri to draw a quick breath, the vapor had bloomed to engulf t
he grand wazir.
“Kaveh, what is that?” she asked sharply as copper tendrils darted out like a dancer’s hand, reaching, searching. There was something familiar about the movement, about the metallic shimmer.
The king briefly glanced back, looking more annoyed than anything.
The vapor rushed at the copper relic bolted through his ear.
It instantly melted, and Ghassan cried out, clasping his head as the liquid metal surged into his ear. Suleiman’s seal flashed on his cheek, and Nahri swooned, her magic gone.
But it didn’t last. The king’s eyes went wide and still as a haze of copper veiled their gray depths.
Then Ghassan al Qahtani fell dead at her feet.
Her abilities slammed back into her. Nahri covered her mouth with a startled cry, staring in shock as copper-flecked black blood poured from the king’s ears, mouth, and nose.
“By the Most High, Kaveh,” she whispered. “What have you done?”
“What had to be done.” Kaveh was already crossing to Ghassan’s body, stepping into the pool of spreading blood without hesitation. He retrieved the king’s khanjar, quickly using it to slice through the binds on his wrists. “We don’t have much time,” he warned. “We need to find Jamshid and secure Muntadhir.”
Nahri stared at him. Had he lost his mind? Ghassan’s guards were just outside the door. They weren’t getting away, let alone finding Jamshid and “securing” Muntadhir, whatever that meant. “Kaveh, I think—”
“I do not care what you think.” The barely checked hostility in his voice shocked her. “Respectfully . . .” It sounded like he was struggling not to shout. “You’re not the one making decisions tonight. A thing that is clearly for the best.” He glanced at her, his eyes simmering with anger. “You will answer for the choice you just made. Not tonight. Not to me . . . but you will answer.”
A fly buzzed past her ear. Nahri barely noticed; she was speechless. Then another swept past her face, brushing her cheek.
Kaveh turned to look at the sky. More flies were coming, a swarm from the direction of the lake.
Grim determination swept his features. “It is time.”
There was an angry shout from beyond the closed door.
Nahri instantly recognized the voice. “Muntadhir!” She lunged for the door. His father might be lying in a pool of blood on the ground, but right now Nahri trusted her estranged husband far more than the mad wazir who’d orchestrated a riot and assassinated a king.
“Nahri?” Muntadhir’s voice was muffled through the door, but from his tone, he was clearly arguing with the guards on the other side.
Kaveh shoved himself between Nahri and the door. “Muntadhir cannot come in, Banu Nahri. He cannot be exposed to this.”
“Exposed to what?” she cried. “The fact that you just murdered his father?”
But as she tried to wrestle past him, she suddenly spotted what Kaveh meant.
A coppery haze was reforming above the dead king. Glittering particles, like minuscule metal stars, swirled up from Ghassan’s pooling blood, forming a cloud twice the size of the one that had escaped Kaveh’s shattered ring.
Nahri instantly backed away, but the vapor flowed harmlessly past her and Kaveh, separating and undulating around her waist like a wave. The flies zipped over them all, dozens now.
Muntadhir broke down the door.
“I don’t care what he said!” he shouted, trying to shove past a pair of guards. “She’s my damned wife and . . .” Muntadhir recoiled, his eyes locking on his father’s bloody body. “Abba?”
The guards reacted more swiftly. “My king!” Two flew to Ghassan, the other two going for Nahri and Kaveh. Muntadhir didn’t move from the door frame, falling heavily against it as if it was all that was keeping him on his feet.
The flies suddenly flickered into flashes of fire, dissolving into a rain of ash.
“Muntadhir, I didn’t do it!” Nahri cried as one of the guards grabbed her. “I swear! I had nothing to do with this!”
A roar broke the air, a scream like the crash of ocean waves and the bellow of a crocodile. It sounded dully distant, but it set every hair on her body on end.
Nahri had heard that roar before.
The vapor struck again.
The guards who’d gone to Ghassan screamed, clutching their heads. The soldier who’d seized her dropped her arm and backed away with a cry, but he wasn’t fast enough. His relic dashed into his ear with vindictive speed. He shrieked in pain, clawing at his face.
“No.” Kaveh’s horrified whisper cut through the wails. His gaze locked on Muntadhir, still framed against the door. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!”
Muntadhir’s eyes went bright with fear.
Nahri didn’t hesitate. She shot to her feet, running across the pavilion as the coppery cloud, now tripled in size, flew at her husband.
“Banu Nahida, wait!” Kaveh cried. “You don’t—”
She didn’t hear what else he had to say. The vapor just behind her, Nahri threw herself at Muntadhir.
35
Nahri
Too late, Nahri remembered that the door opened on to a staircase.
Muntadhir grunted as she hit him hard in the stomach and then he cried out as he lost his balance. They tumbled down the stairs, various limbs bashing against the dusty stone before they landed in a heap at the bottom.
Pinned beneath her, Muntadhir swore. Nahri gasped, the wind knocked from her lungs. Her abilities were still dulled from the iron cuffs, and she was bruised and battered, a searing pain running down her left wrist.
Muntadhir blinked and then his eyes went wide, locking on something past her shoulder. “Run!” he cried, scrambling to his feet and yanking her up.
They fled. “Your relic!” Nahri wheezed. In the opposite corridor from the one they’d taken, someone cried out in Geziriyya. Then, chillingly, the wail abruptly cut out into silence. “Take out your relic!”
He reached for it as they ran, his fingers fumbling.
Nahri glanced over her shoulder, horrified to see the coppery haze lapping toward them like a hungry, malevolent wave. “Muntadhir!”
He yanked it out, hurling the copper bolt away just as the vapor engulfed them. Nahri held her breath, terrified. And then it passed, rushing down the corridor.
Muntadhir fell to his knees, shaking so hard Nahri could hear his teeth rattling. “What the hell was that?” he gasped.
Her heart was pounding, the echo throbbing in her head. “I have no idea.”
Tears were running down his face. “My father . . . Kaveh. I’ll kill him.” He staggered to his feet and turned back toward the way they had come, one hand braced on the wall.
Nahri moved to block him. “That’s not what’s important right now.”
He glared at her, suspicion crossing his face. “Did you—”
“No!” she snapped. “Really, Muntadhir? I just threw myself down a stairwell to save you.”
He flushed. “I’m sorry. I just . . . he . . .” His voice cracked, and he wiped his eyes roughly.
The grief laced in his words dulled her temper. “I know.” She cleared her throat, holding her bound wrists out. “Would you get this off me?”
He pulled free his khanjar, quickly slicing through the cloth binds and helping her out of the iron cuffs. She inhaled, relieved as her powers burned through her veins, her blistered skin and dark bruises instantly healing.
Muntadhir had opened his mouth to speak again when a voice echoed down the hall. “Banu Nahida!”
It was Kaveh.
Nahri clapped a hand over her husband’s lips, dragging him into the shadows. “Let’s not find out if he has any other tricks up his sleeve,” she whispered. “We need to warn the rest of the Geziris in the palace.”
Even in the shadows, she could see his face pale. “You think it will spread that far?”
“Did it look like it was stopping?”
“Fuck.” It seemed an appropriate answer. “My God, Nahri
. . . do you know how many Geziris are in the palace?”
She nodded grimly.
There was a sudden rumble, the floor shuddering beneath their feet. It lasted only a second, and then was gone.
Nahri braced herself. “What was that?”
Muntadhir shuddered. “I don’t know. It feels like the entire island just shook.” He ran a hand nervously over his beard. “That vapor . . . do you have any idea what it might be?”
Nahri shook her head. “No. It looked somewhat similar to the poison used on your brother, though, didn’t it?”
“My brother.” Her husband’s expression darkened and then panic swept his face. “My sister.”
“Muntadhir, wait!” Nahri cried.
But he was already running.
Zaynab’s apartments weren’t close, and by the time they made it to the harem garden, Muntadhir and Nahri were both thoroughly out of breath. The scarf she’d tied around her head in the hospital was long gone, her curls plastered to her damp skin.
“Jamshid was always telling me I should exercise more,” Muntadhir panted. “I should have listened.”
Jamshid. His name was like a knife to her heart.
She darted a look at Muntadhir. Well, there was one situation that had just grown more complicated. “Your father had him arrested,” she said.
“I know,” Muntadhir replied. “Why do you think I was banging down the door? I heard Wajed took him out of the city. Did my father tell Kaveh where?”
“Out of the city? No, your father said nothing about that.”
Muntadhir groaned in frustration. “I should have stopped all this sooner. When I heard he had you as well . . .” He trailed off, sounding angry with himself. “Did he at least tell you what he wanted with Jamshid?”
Nahri hesitated. Ghassan might have been a monster, but he was still Muntadhir’s father, and Nahri didn’t need to add to her husband’s grief right now. “Ask me later.”
“If we’re alive later,” Muntadhir muttered. “Ali finally lost his mind, by the way. He seized the Citadel.”
“It would seem an excellent night to be in the Citadel instead of the palace.”
The Kingdom of Copper Page 50