The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,121

her to be Manizheh’s daughter. It is useful. And if we say it is true—if we act on that assumption—others will as well. She clearly has some Nahid blood. And I like her; she seems to have an instinct for self-preservation sorely lacking in the rest of her kin.”

“And that’s enough to make her queen? To make her mother to the next generation of Qahtani kings? We know nothing else of her heritage!” Ali shook his head. He’d heard how his father had felt about Manizheh, but this was lunacy.

“And here I thought you would approve, Alizayd,” the king said. “Are you not constantly railing about how blood purity does not matter?”

His father had him there. “I take it Muntadhir does not yet know of his impending nuptials?” Ali rubbed his head.

“He’ll do as he’s told,” his father said firmly. “And we have time aplenty. The girl cannot legally marry until her quarter century. And I would like her to do so willingly. The Daevas will not be pleased to see her warm toward us. It must be done sincerely.” He spread his hands on the wall. “You will have to take care in befriending her.”

Ali whirled on him. “What?”

Ghassan waved him off. “You just said you didn’t want to be Qaid. It will look better if you keep the title and uniform until Wajed returns, but I will have Abu Nuwas take over your responsibilities so you have time to spend with her.”

“Doing what exactly?” Ali was stunned by how quickly his father had turned his resignation around in his own favor. “I know nothing of women and their . . .” He fought an embarrassed heat. “. . . whatever it is they do.”

“By the Most High, Alizayd.” His father rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to lure her into your bed—as thoroughly entertaining a spectacle as that would be. I’m asking you to make a friend. Surely that is not beyond your skill set?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Talk to her of that human nonsense you read. Astrology, your currency obsession . . .”

“Astronomy,” Ali corrected under his breath. But he doubted some human-raised girl was going to be interested in the value of varying coin weights. “Why would you not ask Zaynab?”

Ghassan hesitated. “Zaynab shares your mother’s distaste for Manizheh. She went too far in her first encounter with Nahri, and I doubt the girl will trust her again.”

“Then Muntadhir,” Ali offered, growing desperate. “You trust him to charm the Afshin but not seduce this girl? That’s all he does!”

“They are going to be married,” Ghassan declared. “Truthfully, regardless of what either of them thinks about it. But I’d rather things not go to that extreme. Who knows what kind of propaganda Darayavahoush filled her head with? We need to undo some of that damage first. And if she reacts badly to you, it’s a lesson in how to proceed with Muntadhir without poisoning the well of their marriage.”

Ali stared at the smoking temple. He had literally never had a conversation with a Daeva lasting longer than ten minutes that ended well, and his father wanted him to befriend a Nahid? A girl? That last thought alone was enough to send a shiver of nerves down his spine.

“There’s no way, Abba,” he finally said. “She’ll see right through me. You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t have experience with that kind of deception.”

“Don’t you?” Ghassan stepped closer and rested his arms on the wall. His brown hands were thick and roughly calloused, the heavy gold ring on his thumb looking like a child’s bangle. “After all, you successfully hid your involvement with the Tanzeem.”

Ali went cold; he had to have heard wrong. Yet as he cast an alarmed glance down at his father, something else caught his eye.

The guards had followed them. And they were blocking the door.

A wordless terror gripped Ali’s heart. He clutched at the parapet, feeling like someone had torn a carpet out from under his feet. His throat tightened, and he glanced at the distant ground, briefly tempted to jump.

Ghassan didn’t even look at him; his expression was completely serene as he stared at his city. “Your tutors always praised your prowess with numbers. ‘A keen mind your son has for figures,’ they told me. ‘An excellent addition he’d make to the Treasury.’ I assumed they were exaggerating; I dismissed your harping on currency issues as another of your eccentricities.” Something twitched in his face. “And then the Tanzeem started