The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,200

publicly paint Dara as some barbarian rapist and herself as a helpless victim, he was mad.

And he wasn’t the only one with leverage. “Does this charming story of yours include the part where your son was possessed by the marid and used Suleiman’s seal?”

“Alizayd was never possessed by the marid,” Ghassan said, sounding completely self-assured. “What a ridiculous thing to suggest. The marid have not been seen for millennia. Alizayd never fell in the lake. He was caught in the ship’s rigging and climbed back aboard to slay the Afshin. He’s a hero.” The king paused and pressed his lips into a bitter smile, his voice wavering for the first time. “He always was a talented swordsman.”

Nahri shook her head. “That’s not what happened. There were other witnesses. No one is going to believe—”

“It is far more believable than Manizheh having a secret daughter hidden away in a distant human city. A girl whose very bearing would suggest an almost entirely human pedigree . . . forgive me, what did we say it was? Ah, yes, a curse to affect your appearance.” The king pressed his long fingers together. “Yes, I sold that story quite well.”

His frankness took her aback; she had thought it odd how easily the king accepted her identity when even she herself doubted it. “Because it’s the truth,” she argued. “You were the one to mistake me for Manizheh when I first arrived.”

Ghassan nodded. “A mistake. I cared greatly for your mother. I saw a Daeva woman walk in with an Afshin warrior at her side, and my emotions briefly overtook me. And who knows? You may very well be Manizheh’s daughter—you clearly have some Nahid blood . . .” He tapped the seal on his cheek. “But I see human in you as well. Not much; if your parents were clever, they could have hidden it—there are plenty in our world who do. But it’s there.”

His confidence shook her. “You would have let Muntadhir marry someone with human blood?”

“To secure peace between our tribes? Without hesitation.” He chuckled. “Do you think Alizayd the only radical? I have lived long enough—and seen enough—to know that blood does not account for everything. There are plenty of shafit who can wield magic with as much skill as a pureblood. Unlike my son, I recognize that the rest of our world is not ready to accept such a thing. But as long as no one else learned what you were . . .” He shrugged. “The exact composition of my grandchildren’s blood would not have bothered me one whit.”

Nahri was speechless. She could take little heart in Ghassan’s assertion that shafit were equals—not when he could so easily disregard such a truth for political reality. Doing so bespoke a cruelty she had not seen in Dara’s far more ignorant brand of prejudice.

“So expose me,” she challenged. “I don’t care. I’m not going to help you slander his memory.”

“‘Slander his memory’?” Ghassan laughed. “He’s the Scourge of Qui-zi. This lie pales in comparison with his actual atrocities.”

“Says a man committed to using lies to further his reign.”

The king lifted one of his dark eyebrows. “Do you want to hear how he earned that title?”

Nahri stayed silent, and the king regarded her. “But of course. For all the interest in our world, all the things you asked my son . . . you’ve shown curiously little appetite for your Afshin’s bloody history.”

“Because it doesn’t matter to me.”

“So it will not bother you to hear it.” Ghassan sat back, pressing his hands together. “Let us talk of Qui-zi. The Tukharistanis were once your ancestors’ most loyal subjects, you know. Steadfast and peaceful, devoted to the fire cult . . . With just one flaw—they intentionally broke the law regarding humans.”

He tapped his turban. “Silk. A specialty of the humans in their land and an immediate hit when it was introduced to Daevabad. But its creation is a delicate task—too delicate for hot-blooded djinn hands. And so the Tukharistanis invited a select few human families into their tribe. They were embraced and given their own protected city. Qui-zi. None could leave, yet it was considered a paradise. As one would expect, the daeva and human populations mixed throughout the years. The Tukharistanis were careful not to let anyone with human blood leave Qui-zi, and silk was so prized that your ancestors turned a blind eye to the city’s existence for centuries.

“Until Zaydi al Qahtani rebelled. Until the Ayaanle swore their allegiance and suddenly