The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,158

“Never mind that I might have done those things to survive . . . and that I might have fought for you just as hard.” She drew herself up, and he dropped his gaze under her glare. “I don’t need you to plan my future here, Dara. I don’t need anyone to.”

This time when she left, he didn’t try to stop her.

23

Ali

“This is extraordinary,” Nahri said as she raised the telescope higher, aiming it at the swollen moon. “I can actually see where the shadow overtakes it. And its surface is all pocked . . . I wonder what could cause such a thing.”

Ali shrugged. He, Nahri, Muntadhir, and Zaynab were stargazing from an observation post high atop the palace wall overlooking the lake. Well, Ali and Nahri were stargazing. Neither of his siblings had yet to touch the telescope; they were lounging on cushioned sofas, enjoying the attentions of their servants and the platters of food sent up from the kitchens.

He glanced back, watching as Muntadhir pressed a glass of wine on a giggling handmaid, and Zaynab examined her newly hennaed hands. “Maybe we should ask my sister,” he said drily. “I’m sure she paid attention to the scholar while he was explaining.”

Nahri laughed. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh in days, and the sound warmed his heart. “I take it your siblings don’t share your enthusiasm for human science?”

“They would, if human science involved lying around like pampered . . .” Ali stopped, remembering his objective in befriending Nahri. He quickly backtracked. “Though Muntadhir is certainly entitled to some rest; he did just return from hunting ifrit.”

“Perhaps.” She sounded unimpressed, and Ali shot Muntadhir’s back an annoyed look before following Nahri to the parapet. He watched as she lifted the telescope to her eye again. “What’s it like to have siblings?” she asked.

He was surprised by the question. “I’m the youngest, so I don’t actually know what it’s like not to have them.”

“But you all seem very different. It must be challenging at times.”

“I suppose.” His brother had only just returned to Daevabad this morning, and Ali couldn’t deny the relief he felt upon seeing him. “I’d die for either of them,” he said softly. “In a heartbeat.” Nahri glanced at him, and he smiled. “Makes the squabbles more interesting.”

She didn’t return his smile; her dark eyes looked troubled.

He frowned. “Have I said something wrong?”

“No.” She sighed. “It’s been a long week . . . several long weeks, actually.” Her gaze remained fixed on the distant stars. “It must be nice to have a family.”

The quiet sadness in her voice struck him deep, and he didn’t know whether it was her sorrow or his father’s order that moved him to say what he did next. “You . . . you could, you know,” he stammered. “Have a family, I mean. Here. With us.”

Nahri stilled. When she glanced at him, her expression was carefully blank.

“Forgive me, my lords . . .” A wide-eyed shafit girl peeked up from the edge of the stairs. “But I was sent to retrieve the Banu Nahida.”

“What is it, Dunoor?” Nahri spoke to the girl, but her gaze remained on Ali, something unreadable in her dark eyes.

The servant brought her palms together and bowed. “I’m sorry, mistress, I do not know. But Nisreen said it’s most urgent.”

“Of course it is,” Nahri muttered, an edge of fear creeping into her voice. She handed the telescope back to him. “Thank you for the evening, Prince Alizayd.”

“Nahri . . .”

She gave him a forced smile. “Sometimes I speak without thinking.” She touched her heart. “Peace be upon you.” She offered a brusque salaam to his siblings and then followed Dunoor down the stairs.

Zaynab threw her head back with a dramatic sigh as soon as Nahri was out of earshot. “Does the end of our intellectual family farce mean that I can leave as well?”

Ali was offended. “What is wrong with the two of you?” he demanded. “Not only were you rude to our guest, but you’re turning away an opportunity to gaze upon God’s finest works, an opportunity only a fraction of those in existence will ever be blessed to—”

“Oh, calm down, Sheikh.” Zaynab shivered. “It’s cold up here.”

“Cold? We’re djinn! You are literally created from fire.”

“It’s fine, Zaynab,” Muntadhir cut in. “Go. I’ll keep him company.”

“Your sacrifice is appreciated,” Zaynab replied. She gave Muntadhir’s cheek an affectionate pat. “Don’t get into too much trouble celebrating your return tonight. If you’re late to court