The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,111

firm. “He is her husband, and his history is a bit less … complicated … when it comes to the Daevas.” She plucked a pink milk-sweet from one of the silver platters, taking a delicate bite. “Would it not be good to see them work together, Abba? I think it would do much to quell all this unnecessary and divisive talk from some of the other tribes.”

Nahri did not miss the sugary smile Zaynab aimed at her mother … nor the way Hatset carefully nodded once, not so much in agreement, but in quiet approval of her daughter’s maneuvering.

Muntadhir was looking at the three women with outrage. “Me? I don’t even agree with this! Why do I have to convince the priests of anything?”

“I’ll do the convincing,” Nahri said sharply. She wasn’t letting Muntadhir ruin this. “You might even enjoy it,” she added quickly, trying for more tact. “Jamshid gives a wonderful tour.”

Her husband glowered in response but stayed silent.

Ghassan seemed to study her again. It was the same look she’d seen when he’d welcomed her to Daevabad. The same look he’d worn the first time they’d negotiated her betrothal, the look of a gambler willing to bet a great deal if the risk was carefully calculated.

The first time she’d seen that expression it had set her at ease; Nahri had always preferred pragmatists. But now it made her skin crawl. Because she’d seen what Ghassan was capable of when his gambles didn’t pay off.

“Yes,” he finally said, and her heart skipped. “You may proceed. With extreme caution. I intend to be consulted on every development and every snag.” He wagged his finger in Ali’s direction. “You, in particular, are to be careful. I know how passionate you get about all of this. You are to build a hospital, not start climbing up on minbars and giving the masses sermons about equality, understand?”

Ali’s eyes flashed and Nahri did not miss the quick way Zaynab “accidentally” struck his knee, reaching rather purposefully for a serving knife. “Yes, Abba,” Ali said hoarsely. “I understand.”

“Good. Then you may tell your priests you have my blessing, Banu Nahida, and take Muntadhir with you. But you are to make it clear this is your idea, not ours. I won’t have any Daeva spreading rumors that we dragged them into this.”

She nodded. “Understood.”

The king regarded them all. “This pleases me,” he declared, rising to his feet. “It will be good for Daevabad to see us working together in peace.” He hesitated and then snapped his fingers at Ali. “Come, Alizayd. If you’re going to brag about your financial acumen, you might as well help me. I’ve a meeting with a particularly slippery governor from Agnivansha and could use you.”

Ali looked uncertain, but after a nudge from his mother, he stood. Nahri started to do the same.

Muntadhir’s hand fell lightly on her wrist. “Sit,” he hissed under his breath.

With a quick glance between them, Zaynab rose hastily. Nahri didn’t blame her; Muntadhir’s handsome face was furious, a vein jumping in his temple. “Enjoy the Temple, akhi,” she teased.

“About that …” Hatset pulled Zaynab close. “Take a walk with me, daughter.”

The door leading to the steps closed, and then they were alone, save for the wind and the gulls.

Muntadhir turned to her, a shaft of sunshine illuminating the tired shadows under his eyes. It looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. “Is this because of our fight?” he demanded. “Are you really ready to throw in with Alizayd and his lunatic ideas because of what I said?”

Nahri’s temper flared. “I’m not throwing in with anyone. I’m doing this for myself and for my people. And as you’ll recall, I came to you first. I tried to talk to you about these things—things close to my heart—and you dismissed me.” She fought to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. You made plain what you think of the foolish girl from Cairo.”

He pressed his lips into a grim line, dropping his gaze. The moment stretched, silent and tense.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally said. “I’m sorry. I was upset about Jamshid, and about Ali returning …”

“I’ve had enough of men hurting me because they were upset.” Her voice was hard, so much so that Muntadhir looked startled. But Nahri didn’t care. She rose to her feet, placing her chador over her head. “I won’t have it from the man I call my husband. Not anymore.”

Muntadhir’s eyes darted to hers. “What are