it wouldn’t devour her from within.
You naive little girl. Her mother’s words on the palace roof came back in a rush, mingling with the suspicion in Musa’s eyes, the open hate in Wajed’s, and Hatset’s awful story. Nahri couldn’t condone what Manizheh had done to the Geziris, but she suddenly feared that putting herself in the hands of the djinn had been a terrible mistake.
At her side, Ali moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers. “You knew,” he said, speaking softly in Arabic so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You knew about Jamshid.”
Her reply was curt. “Yes.”
He sighed. “I wish you had told me. There weren’t supposed to be any more secrets between us, and I feel like we just fell into a trap.”
“And that’s my fault? I came here to make peace, not get set upon by your mother and Wajed. Did you not hear what they said about Jamshid? My brother’s entire life is a lie because of your father!”
“I know, Nahri. I know, all right?” And indeed, she saw only frustrated sympathy in Ali’s gray eyes. “But that’s why you and I need to be united—against the rest of them if necessary.” He touched her hand. “I meant everything I said to you in Cairo and back on the beach. I am your partner in this, your friend. I’m not going to betray you.”
“And if you’re not enough?” The question burst from her, giving voice to her fear. “They’ve already locked up one Daeva. What if we can’t convince them that this fight is against Manizheh, not my entire tribe?”
Ali’s expression grew fierce. “Jamshid is getting out of that cell today. They either let him out, or you and I break him out, we join Fiza’s crew, and the three of us try our hand at piracy.”
His words didn’t vanquish her anger, but Nahri felt a little fear ebb away at the promise of a backup plan, even a ridiculous one. “Fine,” she muttered, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go.
They kept walking, following Wajed down a twisting staircase that ended in a hall of earth-packed walls. A single window let in a dusty ray of light, illuminating a row of wooden doors. All were open save one, which sported a new, human-looking metal lock and a heavy beam barring the entrance. Two soldiers sat on mats just outside, playing some sort of card game.
They shot to their feet when Ali entered, their eyes going wider as they took in Nahri at his side.
“Your Highness,” one stammered, falling into an awkward bow. “Forgive us,” he added, kicking the cards into the corner. “We didn’t realize—”
“There is nothing to forgive. Is this where Jamshid e-Pramukh is being kept?” Ali asked, nodding at the locked door.
“Yes, my prince,” the other djinn said nervously. His gaze darted to Nahri. “But he’s made a mess of the place. I can prepare a different cell for her if—”
“No,” Ali cut in, silencing the other man as if he felt Nahri’s temper spiking again. “We won’t be locking up any more Daevas as of today.” He held out his palm. “The key, please.”
Wajed had clearly been checking his tongue since their fight in the majlis, but he spoke up now. “My prince, I’m not certain that’s wise. Pramukh has already tried to escape twice.”
“And once he’s free, he won’t have to attempt a third. The key. Now.”
The Ayaanle soldier obeyed, pulling a key from his pocket and handing it to Ali, who promptly gave it to Nahri.
“Thank you,” Ali said politely. “Your assistance is appreciated. Qaid, would you and these men please go speak to my mother about finding rooms for our Daeva guests?”
Wajed looked like he would rather have shoved Nahri into a cell, but she knew enough about royal protocol to know he wouldn’t question a Qahtani in front of his men. “Of course, my prince,” he said, his voice cool.
Nahri waited until they left and then quickly fit the key into the lock.
Ali helped her with the crossbeam. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked.
I don’t know. Now that she was facing the prospect of speaking to the man she knew was her brother, Nahri felt uncertain. She and Jamshid were friends, yes, but it wasn’t a relationship that time and their respective positions had let deepen. She had been his Banu Nahida first.
And he had belonged to Muntadhir. How was Nahri, never the most empathetic of people if she was honest, going to find the words to shatter