The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,62

the window. “You could try sleeping with the next courtesan he sends you,” he said with a grin. “Oh, Zaydi, don’t give me that look. It would throw Kaveh for a loop.” Muntadhir absentmindedly twirled a bit of flame around his fingers. “Until he turned around and denounced you as a hypocrite, of course.”

“You’re not leaving me with a lot of options.”

“You could try not stomping around like the royal version of the Tanzeem,” Muntadhir offered. “Actually, I don’t know . . . attempt to befriend a Daeva? Jamshid’s been wanting to learn how to use a zulfiqar. Why don’t you give him lessons?”

Ali was incredulous. “You want me to teach Kaveh’s son how to use a Geziri weapon?”

“He’s not just Kaveh’s son,” Muntadhir argued, sounding a little irritated. “He’s my best friend, and you’re the one who asked me for advice.”

Ali sighed. “Sorry. You’re right. It’s just been a long day.” He shifted against the desk, promptly knocking over one of his carefully arranged stacks of paperwork. “A day with no sign of ending anytime soon.”

“Maybe I should have left you with the women. They might have improved your attitude.” Muntadhir rose from the window. “I just wanted to make sure you survived your first day at court, but you look like you have a lot of work. At least think on what I’ve said about the Daevas. You know I’m only trying to help.”

“I know.” Ali exhaled. “Were your negotiations successful?”

“My what?”

“Your negotiations with the Tukharistani minister,” Ali reminded. “Abba said you were trying to reduce a debt.”

Muntadhir’s eyes brightened with amusement. He pressed his lips together as if fighting a grin. “Yes. She proved to be very . . . accommodating.”

“That’s good.” Ali retrieved his papers, straightening the stacks on his desk. “Let me know if you’d like me to check the numbers you agreed on. I know mathematics isn’t your—” He stopped, surprised by the kiss Muntadhir suddenly planted on his forehead. “What?”

Muntadhir only shook his head, exasperated affection in his face. “Oh, akhi . . . you’re going to get eaten alive here.”

9

Nahri

Cold. That was her first thought upon waking. Nahri shivered violently and curled into a ball, pulling her blanket over her head and tucking her frozen hands under her chin. Could it be morning already? Her face felt damp, and the tip of her nose was completely numb.

What she saw when she opened her eyes was so strange, she immediately sat up.

Snow.

It had to be; it matched Dara’s description perfectly. The ground was covered by a thin blanket of white with only a few dark patches of soil visible. The very air seemed more still than usual, frozen into silence by the snow’s arrival.

Dara was still gone, as were the horses. Nahri wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and fed the dying fire the driest branch she could find, trying not to let her nerves get the better of her. Maybe he’d just taken the horses to graze.

Or maybe he really did leave. She forced down a few bites of cold stew and then started packing up her meager supplies. There was something about the silence and lonely beauty of the fresh snowfall that made the solitude more intense.

The stale bread and spicy stew left her mouth dry. Nahri searched their small campsite, but the waterskin was nowhere to be seen. Now she did start to panic. Would Dara really leave her with no water?

That bastard. That smug, self-righteous bastard. She tried to melt some snow in her hands but only got a mouthful of mud. She spat, growing annoyed, and then pulled on her boots. Dara be damned. She’d noticed a stream in the sparse woods behind their camp. If he wasn’t back by the time she returned, well . . . she’d have to start making other plans.

She stomped toward the forest. If I die out here, I hope I come back as a ghoul. I will haunt that arrogant, wine-soaked daeva until the Day of Judgment.

As she walked deeper into the forest, the sounds of warbling birds faded. It was dark; the tall, ancient trees blocked what little light penetrated the cloudy morning sky. Unbending pine needles held up tiny cups of crisp snow in the air all around her.

A thin layer of ice covered the rushing stream. She broke it easily with a rock and knelt to drink. The water was so cold it made her teeth ache, but she forced a few mouthfuls down and splashed some on