The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,105

never has to leave this tent. But, Kaveh …” His tone grew imploring. “Banu Manizheh is relying on us both. We need to be able to talk about this.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them, the cheerful chatter and clash of his sparring men beyond the tent at odds with the tension rising inside it.

And then Kaveh spoke. “He did nothing,” he whispered. “Jamshid took six arrows for him and all Muntadhir did was hold his hand while his father let my boy suffer.” He turned around, looking haunted—and old, as though the very memory had aged him. “How do you do that to someone you claim to love?”

Dara unwittingly thought of Nahri, and he didn’t have an answer for the man. Suddenly, he felt quite old himself. “How long”—he cleared his throat, suspecting it still wouldn’t take much for Kaveh to storm out—“have they been involved with each other?”

Kaveh’s face crumpled. “At least ten years,” he confessed softly. “If not longer. He was careful to hide it from me in the beginning. I suspect he feared I would disapprove.”

“Such a fear is understandable,” Dara said, quietly sympathetic. “People have often looked askance at such relationships.”

Kaveh shook his head. “It wasn’t that. I mean … it was in part, but our name and our wealth would have shielded him from the worst. I would have shielded him,” he said, his voice growing fiercer. “His happiness and safety are my concerns, not the gossip of others.” He sighed. “Muntadhir was the problem. Jamshid thinks because he is charming and speaks Divasti and loves wine and entertains his cosmopolitan court that he is different. He is not. Muntadhir is Geziri to the core and will always be loyal to his father and his family first. Jamshid refuses to see that, no matter how many times that man breaks his heart.”

Dara sat on his cushion. He patted the pillow next to him, and Kaveh fell into it, still looking half reluctant. “Does Banu Manizheh know?”

“No,” Kaveh said quickly. “I would not trouble her with this.” He rubbed his silvering temples. “I can keep Jamshid away during the invasion and for those first few days—I’ll lock him up if need be. But when he finds out about Muntadhir—about what happens after Manizheh gets what she needs …” He shook his head, his eyes dimming. “He’ll never forgive me for that.”

“Then blame me,” Dara offered, his stomach twisting even as he said it. “Tell him Muntadhir was to be kept alive as a hostage, and I killed him in anger.” He looked away. “It is what everyone expects from me anyway.” Dara might as well use it to quietly ease the grief between the Pramukhs. He’d already hurt them enough.

Kaveh stared at his hands, twisting the gold ring on his thumb. “I don’t know that it matters,” he said finally. “I’m about to become one of the most infamous traitors in our history. I don’t think Jamshid will ever look at me the same way again, regardless of what happens to Muntadhir. I don’t think anyone will.”

“I wish I could tell you that it becomes easier.” Dara’s gaze swept over his tent, the accumulated weapons that were his only possessions. His only identity in this world. “I suppose our reputations are small prices to pay if it means our people will be safe.”

“Small consolation if our loved ones never speak to us again.” He glanced at Dara. “Do you think she’ll forgive you?”

Dara knew who Kaveh meant, and he knew all too well the answer, deep in his heart. “No,” he said honestly. “I do not think Nahri will ever forgive me. But she’ll be safe with the rest of our people and reunited with her mother. That is all that matters.”

For the first time since he’d seen Kaveh again, there was a hint of sympathy in the other man’s voice. “I think they’ll get along well,” he said softly. “Nahri has always reminded me of her mother. So much so that it hurts at times. As a girl, Manizheh delighted in her cleverness exactly the way Nahri does. She was sharp, she was charming, she had a smile like a weapon.” Tears came to his eyes. “When Nahri claimed to be her daughter, it felt like someone stole my breath.”

“I can imagine,” Dara said. “You thought she was dead after all.”

Kaveh shook his head, his expression turning grim. “I knew Manizheh was alive.”

“But …” Dara thought back to what Kaveh had told him.