The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,108

of fees that are mysteriously always twice the amount we’d agreed to.”

Hatset smiled, passing another loaded plate to Ali. “Alu-baba, enough with all those scrolls,” she chided, gesturing at the pile of papers next to Ali. “What work could you possibly already have?”

“I suspect those scrolls have to do with his reason for arranging all this,” Ghassan said knowingly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Muntadhir straightened up even further. “You didn’t tell me Alizayd arranged this.”

“I didn’t want you finding a reason not to attend.” Ghassan shrugged. “And waking before noon for once will not harm you.” He turned back to his youngest. “How are you feeling?”

“Fully recovered,” Ali said smoothly, touching his heart with a nod in Nahri’s direction. “A thing I owe entirely to the Banu Nahida.”

Ghassan’s attention turned to her. “And has the Banu Nahida made any progress in discovering more about the poison used?”

Nahri forced herself to meet his gaze. Ghassan was her captor, and she never forgot it—but right now, she needed him on her side. “Regretfully, no. Nisreen thinks it might have been something in his tamarind juice designed to react to the sugar in the sweets. The prince is known to favor the drink in place of wine.”

Muntadhir snorted. “I suppose that’s what you get for being so obnoxious about your beliefs.”

Ali’s eyes flashed. “And how very interesting, akhi, that it was always you who was loudest about mocking me for them.”

Hatset cut in. “Have you learned anything more about the poison?” she demanded, staring at Ghassan. “You told me you were having the kitchen staff questioned.”

“And I am,” Ghassan replied tersely. “Wajed is overseeing the investigation himself.”

The queen held her husband’s eye another moment, looking unimpressed, but then glanced at her son. “Why don’t you tell us why you’ve brought us here?”

Ali cleared his throat. “It’s not actually me alone. While I’ve been recovering, the Banu Nahida and I have been discussing working together on a very promising project. Her infirmary … it’s very crowded.”

He stopped as if this explained everything, and seeing confusion on their faces, Nahri swept in, silently cursing her partner. “I want to build a hospital,” she said plainly.

“We,” Ali muttered, tapping on his mountain of scrolls. “What?” he asked defensively when she gave him an annoyed look. “I didn’t fiddle with numbers all week just so you can cut me out.”

Muntadhir set his cup down so hard that the dark plum liquid inside sloshed out. It did not look like juice. “Of course you went to him. I try to talk sense into you, and your response is to race to your blockhead of a tutor the minute he comes riding back—”

“Should it make a difference,” Ghassan interrupted, with a look that silenced them all, “I would like to hear them out.” He turned to Nahri. “You want to build a hospital?”

Nahri nodded, trying to ignore the daggers Muntadhir was shooting at her from his eyes. “Well, not so much build a new one as restore an old one. I hear the complex my ancestors once used remains near the Citadel.”

Ghassan’s gaze was so calmly appraising it made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “And where, dear daughter, did you hear such a thing?”

Her heart skipped a beat; she had to tread carefully or some poor Daeva would suffer for it, of that she had no doubt. “A book,” she lied, trying to keep the strain from her voice. “And some rumors.”

Zaynab was blinking at her with barely concealed alarm, Muntadhir studying the rug as though it were the most fascinating one he’d ever seen. Nahri prayed they’d stay silent.

“A book,” Ghassan repeated. “And some rumors.”

“Indeed,” Nahri replied, rushing on as if she hadn’t noticed the suspicion in his voice. “The descriptions of the hospital in its heyday are extraordinary.” She casually picked up her teacup. “I’ve also heard a trio of djinn freed from ifrit slavery are living in the remains.”

“That’s quite a lot of information to glean from some rumors.”

Help came from a very unexpected direction. “Oh, stop menacing the poor girl, Ghassan,” Hatset interrupted. “She’s not wrong. I know about those former slaves as well.”

Nahri stared at her. “You do?”

Hatset nodded. “One of them is a kinsman of mine.” Nahri didn’t miss the quick dart of her eyes to Ali. “A brilliant scholar—but a deeply eccentric man. He refuses to return to Ta Ntry, so I keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t starve himself. I’ve met the