He used to enjoy hunting in the lands beyond the Gozan when he was young. But after he became king, he never strayed farther than the mountains inside the threshold.”
Kaveh nodded. “The seal ring may be tied to Daevabad—it’s certainly never been used to stop any wars outside the city.” He glanced at Dara. “Unless things were different in your day?”
“No,” Dara replied slowly. “The members of the Nahid Council would pass it among each other, taking turns serving with it.” He thought hard, trying to recall what he remembered—it always hurt to think about his old life. “But I only knew that because of the mark on their face. I do not recall ever seeing a ring.”
After another moment, Manizheh spoke again. “Then we need his son. We’ll have to make sure Muntadhir survives the initial siege so he can tell us how to take the seal. He’s Ghassan’s successor. He must know.” She eyed Kaveh. “Can you find a way to do this?”
Kaveh looked apprehensive. “I don’t think that’s information Muntadhir is going to give up easily … particularly in the wake of his father’s death.”
“And I don’t think it’s going to be difficult to force Ghassan’s wastrel son to talk,” Manizheh countered. “I imagine the very prospect of being alone in a room with Dara will have him spilling any number of royal secrets.”
Dara dropped his gaze, his stomach tightening. Not that he should be surprised she’d use him as a threat. He was the Scourge of Qui-zi, after all. No one—least of all the man Nahri had been forced to wed—would want to be on the receiving end of his supposed vengeance.
Kaveh’s face seemed to momentarily display equal misgivings, but then the other man bowed. “Understood, Banu Nahida.”
“Good. Kaveh, I would like you to prepare for your journey back to Daevabad. If there’s a conflict brewing between those sand-fly princes, make sure our people—not to mention our respective children—stay out of it. Dara will enchant a carpet for you and teach you how to fly it.” Manizheh turned back to her worktable. “I need to finish this.”
Dara followed Kaveh out of the tent, grabbing his sleeve as soon as they were clear. “We need to talk.”
Kaveh threw him an annoyed look. “Surely you can teach me how to fly one of your Creator-forsaken tapestries later.”
“It is not about that.” He pulled Kaveh toward his tent. This was not a discussion he wanted anyone to overhear—nor a topic he suspected Kaveh would take well to.
Kaveh half stumbled inside and then glanced around Dara’s tent, his expression souring further. “Do you sleep surrounded by weapons? Do you truly not have a single personal possession that doesn’t deal death?”
“I have what I require.” Dara crossed his arms over his chest. “But we are not here to discuss my belongings.”
“Then what do you want, Afshin?”
“I want to know if Jamshid’s loyalty to Muntadhir is going to be a problem.”
Kaveh’s eyes flashed. “My son is a loyal Daeva, and considering what you did to him, you have some nerve questioning anything he does.”
“I am Banu Manizheh’s Afshin,” Dara said flatly. “I am in charge of her military conquest and the future security of our city … so yes, Kaveh, I need to know if a well-connected, well-trained former soldier—who just poisoned Muntadhir’s political rival—is going to be a problem.”
An expression of pure hostility swept over Kaveh’s face. “I am done with this conversation.” He turned on his heel.
Dara took a deep breath, hating himself for what he was about to do. “My slave abilities came back to me that night … before the boat,” he called out as Kaveh reached the tent flap. “It was brief—quite frankly, I still don’t know what happened. But when I was in that dancer’s salon, I felt a surge of magic, and then I could see her desires, her wishes all spread before me.” Dara paused. “She had at least a dozen. Fame, money, a leisurely retirement with a lovesick Muntadhir. But when I saw into Muntadhir’s mind next … it was not the dancer who occupied it.”
Kaveh halted, his hands in fists at his sides.
“There was no throne either, Kaveh,” Dara said. “No riches, no women, no dreams of being king. Muntadhir’s only desire was your son at his side.”
The other man was trembling, his back still turned.
Dara continued, his voice low. “I mean Jamshid absolutely no harm, I swear to you. I swear on the Nahids,” he added. “And what we say here