confused look, Nahri continued. “You’ve told me before that you know very little about your mother except that she was supposedly a servant, someone scandalous from a lower class. That she died when you were a baby, and your father never spoke about her.” She met his eyes. “Jamshid, your mother wasn’t from a lower class. She was from … as high as they go in our tribe. And she’s not dead.”
Jamshid stared at her. There was another moment or two of bewilderment in his expression and then shock—denial—coursed across his face. “You can’t be saying …”
“I’m saying it. Manizheh is your mother. Ghassan confronted your father when we were arrested, and Kaveh confirmed it. You’re a Nahid, Banu Manizheh’s son.”
“I’m not.” Jamshid jumped up, pacing away. “I can’t be,” he insisted, pressing his hands to his temples. “I—I’m normal! I don’t have any healing abilities. By the Creator, I dropped out of the priesthood. I’m definitely not one of Suleiman’s chosen!”
“To be fair,” she tried, “I do believe the priests are meant to honor us, not the other way around.”
Jamshid’s eyes only went wider.
Nahri rose as well. “Jamshid, trust that I know how hard this is to hear—you’re talking to a woman who didn’t believe in anything magical only six years ago. But I wouldn’t be telling you this if it wasn’t true. Ghassan implied Manizheh must have done something to mask your abilities, but he knew the moment he saw you as a child.” She touched her cheek. “We have Suleiman’s seal marked on our faces. Only the ring-bearer can see it, but it’s there. Ghassan knew all this time. Hatset and Wajed as well.”
Jamshid jerked back. “Does Alizayd know?”
“They just told him.”
“Of course.” He looked devastated. “So, Ghassan and Hatset. Wajed and Ali.” He clenched his hands into fists. “Do you think Muntadhir—”
“No.” Nahri had no proof, but everything in her heart denied it. “I don’t think he knew.”
“I don’t understand this.” Jamshid tugged at his beard, looking very close to pulling it out. “My father spoke of the Nahids with reverence, with grief. He gave not a damn hint away. They were like legends until I met …” His wide eyes met hers. “You,” he whispered. “Oh.”
Nahri flushed, feel oddly exposed. “Yes, I guess this makes us siblings. But it’s fine if that’s not the kind of relationship you want to have.”
Jamshid stepped closer, reaching for her hand. “Of course that’s the kind of relationship I want to have. You being my sister would be the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”
The sincerity in his voice only made her blush more. “It would be nice not to be the only non-murdering Nahid.” It was as close as Nahri could get to acknowledging her emotions.
Jamshid paled. “Yes, I suppose we’ll have to talk about that. About her.” He glanced up. “Is my father …?”
“No.” She fell silent. Jamshid waited, looking expectant.
Tell him. For God’s sake, Nahri had told Fiza—a pirate who would happily sell her out—that she was a shafit. Surely she could tell her own brother. Jamshid was kind. He was good, and she knew he was trying to do better when it came to the shafit.
But he was also a Daeva first, raised with the prejudices of most of their tribe. And Creator forgive her, Nahri did not think she could deal with his reaction right now.
“No,” she said again. “I don’t know who my father is, but it isn’t Kaveh.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jamshid gave her a genuine smile. “It’s going to be a little weird thinking of someone I admired as a high and mighty Nahid as my little sister.” His expression fell. “Though it makes me want to grab you and run even more.”
“There’s no need to run.” That felt like more of a lie than she liked. “Not right now, anyway. I chose to come here. I know you don’t trust Ali, but I do, and we’re going to need allies.”
“His mother kept me locked in a cell for a month, Nahri. They’re not my allies.”
“Neither is our mother. You weren’t in Daevabad, Jamshid. You didn’t see how vicious her conquest was. She unleashed a poison capable of murdering every Geziri in the city. It killed scores in the palace—kids and scholars and servants. Innocents. I’m not on her side.”
“So you’re on the Qahtanis’?”
“No. I’m on Daevabad’s. I want to fix this and maybe one day see a world where it’s normal to pick sides based on what’s right rather