The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,121

cracked, tears brimming in his eyes as Mardoniye jerked and then grew still, hot blood slowly soaking Dara’s clothes.

“He’s gone,” Manizheh said softly.

Dara closed Mardoniye’s eyes, gently laying him back on the bloody snow. Forgive me, my friend.

He rose to his feet, pulling free the knife he wore at his waist. Flames were licking down his arms and flickering in his eyes before he even approached Abu Sayf. The Geziri man was bloody, his nose broken, held fast by four of Dara’s warriors.

Rage tore through him. The knife in his hand transformed, smoking away to reveal a scourge.

“Tell me why I should not flay you piece by piece right now,” Dara hissed. “Why I should not do the same to your companion and make you listen as he screams for death?”

Abu Sayf met his eyes, a mix of defeat and grim determination in his expression. “Because you would have done the same thing in my place. Do you think we don’t know who you are? What your Nahid is doing with our blood and our relics? Do you think we don’t know what you have planned for Daevabad?”

“It is not your city,” Dara snapped. “I treated you with kindness and this is how you repay me?”

Incredulity crossed Abu Sayf’s face. “You cannot be that naive, Afshin. You threatened to torture the young warrior in my care if I didn’t train yours to murder my kinsmen. Do you think a few shared meals and conversations erase that?”

“I think you are a liar from a tribe of liars.” When Dara rushed on, he knew it was not just Abu Sayf he was angry at. “A horde of sand flies who lie and manipulate and feign friendship to gain trust.” He raised his scourge. “I think it should be your tongue I take first.”

“No.” Manizheh’s voice cut through the air.

Dara whirled around. “He killed Mardoniye! He would have killed you!” He was nearly as furious with himself as he was with Abu Sayf. Dara should never have allowed this. He knew how dangerous the Geziris were and yet he’d let them remain at camp, let himself be lulled into complacency by Abu Sayf’s fluent Divasti and the comfort of swapping stories with a fellow warrior. And now Mardoniye was dead.

“I am killing him, Banu Nahida,” Dara said flatly, the defiance easy for once. “This is a matter of war you do not understand.”

Manizheh’s eyes flashed. “Do not dare condescend to me, Darayavahoush. Lower your weapon. I will not ask again.” She turned to Kaveh without waiting for a response. “Retrieve the serum and the relic from my tent. And I want the other Geziri brought out.”

Dara was instantly chastened. “Banu Nahida, I merely meant—”

“I do not care what you meant.” Her gaze leveled on him. “You may be dear to me, Darayavahoush, but I am not as ignorant of our history as my daughter. You obey my commands. But if it helps …” She brushed past him. “I don’t plan to leave these men alive.”

Kaveh returned. “Here you are, my lady,” he said, handing her a small glass bottle stoppered with red wax.

Dara’s men returned the next moment, dragging the second Geziri scout as he struggled and swore. He went still the moment he saw Abu Sayf, their gray gazes locking. A look of understanding passed between them.

Of course, you fool. They’ve probably been plotting this, laughing behind your back at your weaknesses. Again, he cursed himself for underestimating them. His younger self wouldn’t have. His younger self would have killed them in the forest.

Manizheh handed the relic to one of his men. “Put it back in his ear. Then tie them … here and here,” she said, indicating a pair of trees about ten paces apart.

The younger scout was losing his fight against panic. He thrashed out as they shoved the relic back into his ear, his eyes wild.

“Hamza,” Abu Sayf spoke softly. “Do not give them that.”

A tear ran down the other man’s cheek, but he stopped fighting.

Mardoniye, Dara reminded himself. He turned from the frightened Geziri to Manizheh. “What is that?” he asked, looking at the bottle.

“The other part of our plan. A potion I’ve been working on for decades. A way to kill a man who might be well-guarded. A way too swift to stop.”

Dara drew up. “A way to kill Ghassan?”

Manizheh’s gaze seemed distant. “Among others.” She removed the top from the flask.

A wispy copper vapor rose out, dancing and darting in the air like a thing alive.