The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,63

her face, her entire body trembling. She longed for Cairo, its heat and crowds the perfect remedy to this cold, lonely place.

A flash drew her attention back to the stream, and she glanced down to see a bright fish dash behind a submerged rock. It briefly reappeared to fight the swift current, its scales sparkling in the dim light.

Nahri pressed her palms against the muddy bank and leaned closer. The fish was a striking silver color with brilliant blue and green bands crossing its body. While it was only about the length of her hand, it looked plump, and she suddenly wondered how it would taste seared over her weak campfire.

The fish must have guessed her intent. Just as she was considering the best way to catch it, it vanished behind the rocks again, and a breeze blew straight through her thin headscarf. She shivered and stood; the fish wasn’t worth staying here any longer.

She returned to the forest’s edge and then stopped.

Dara was back.

She doubted he saw her. He stood between the horses with his back to the trees, and as Nahri watched, he pressed his brow against one’s fuzzy cheek, giving its nose an affectionate scratch.

She wasn’t moved by the gesture. Dara probably thought even animals were superior to shafit like her.

But there was visible relief in his face when she entered their campsite. “Where were you?” he demanded. “I was worried that something ate you.”

Nahri pushed past him toward her horse. “Sorry to disappoint.” She grabbed the edge of her saddle and shoved one foot into the stirrup.

“Let me help—”

“Don’t touch me.” Dara jerked away, and Nahri heaved herself awkwardly into the saddle.

“Listen . . . ,” he started again, sounding admonished. “About last night. I was drunk. It’s been a long time since I’ve had company.” He chewed his lip. “I suppose I forgot my manners.”

She whirled on him. “Your manners? You go into a wild rant about the djinn—you know, the ones who stopped the indiscriminate butchery of shafit like me, insult me when I show some relief at the news of their victory, and then announce you’re planning to leave me at the gates of that damn city anyway? And you’re blaming it all on wine and your lack of manners?” Nahri scoffed. “By the Most High, you’re so arrogant you can’t even apologize properly.”

“Fine. I’m sorry,” he said, exaggerating the words. “Is that what you wish to hear? You are the first shafit I’ve ever spent time with. I didn’t realize . . .” He cleared his throat, playing nervously with the reins. “Nahri, you have to understand that when I was growing up, we were taught that the Creator himself would punish us if our race continued breaking Suleiman’s laws. That another human would rise to strip away our powers and upend our lives if we didn’t bring the other tribes into line. Our leaders said the shafit were soulless, anything out of their mouths a deception.” He shook his head. “I never questioned it. No one did.” He hesitated, his eyes bright with regret. “When I think of some of the things I’ve done . . .”

“I think I’ve heard enough.” She jerked the reins out of his hands. “Let’s just go. The sooner we get to Daevabad, the sooner we’re done with each other.”

She kicked her horse a bit harder than usual, and it gave an annoyed snort before rushing into a trot. Nahri clutched the reins and squeezed her legs, praying her rash move wouldn’t land her on the ground. She was a terrible rider, while Dara seemed to have been born in the saddle.

She tried to relax, knowing from experience that the most comfortable way to ride was to let her body follow the animal’s motions, leaving her hips loose to sway instead of bouncing all over the place. Behind her, she heard Dara’s horse pounding the frozen ground.

He quickly caught up. “Oh, don’t run off like that. I said I was sorry. Besides . . .” She heard his voice catch, and when he spoke again, she could barely hear him. “I will take you to Daevabad.”

“Yes, I know. To the gates. We’ve been over this.”

Dara shook his head. “No. I will take you into Daevabad. I will escort you to the king myself.”

Nahri immediately pulled on her reins to slow her horse. “Is this a trick?”

“No. I swear on my parents’ ashes. I will take you to the king.”

Macabre oath aside, she found it hard to