You would not dare question my ancestors.”
Stunned silence met that. The grand wazir stared at her in shock, and a few of the priests drew back.
“Yet the Nahids ruled as a council,” Kartir pointed out, undeterred. “Your ancestors discussed things among themselves and with their priests and advisors. They did not rule as kings accountable to no one.” He looked at neither al Qahtani as he said this, but the implication was there.
“And they were overthrown, Kartir,” she replied. “And we have been fighting ever since. It’s time to try something new.”
“I think it is obvious where the Banu Nahida stands.” Kaveh’s voice was curt.
“And I.” Jamshid hadn’t spoken since they entered the room, but he did now, looking his father in the eye. “She has my support, Baba.”
Kaveh glanced at the two of them, his gaze inscrutable. “Then I suppose the matter has been decided. If you don’t mind …” He rose to his feet. “I have had quite a long journey.”
His words seemed to disband the meeting, and though Nahri was irked he’d been the one to do so, she was also relieved. She’d made her decision clear, and even if the priests didn’t like it, they hardly seemed willing to openly defy her.
Kartir spoke up one more time. “The procession. If you want our support in this, surely you can grant us your presence in that.”
Nahri bit back a groan. She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. “Please don’t make me do that.”
Ali frowned. “Do what?”
“They want to dress me up like Anahid and put me in some parade for Navasatem.” She threw Kartir a desperate look. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It is fun,” he clarified with a smile. “The Daeva procession is a favorite part of Navasatem, and it’s been centuries since we’ve have a Nahid to join.”
“You had my mother.”
He eyed her. “Do the stories I’ve told you of Banu Manizheh make it seem like she was the type to take part in such a thing?” His face turned beseeching. “Please. Do it for your people.”
Nahri sighed, guilt nagging at her. “Fine. If you will support my hospital, I will dress in a costume and smile like a fool.” She feigned a glare. “You’re slyer than I would have thought.”
The elderly priest touched his heart. “The sacrifices one makes for their tribe,” he teased.
They left the sanctuary after that, making their way out of the Temple. Sunspots danced across Nahri’s vision as they emerged into the bright afternoon light.
Ali paused on the steps. “This place really is lovely,” he said, gazing at the lily-dappled reflecting pools. A breeze brought the scent of the cedar trees lining the perimeter. “Thank you for allowing us to visit. The circumstances aside—it was an honor.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m sorry about those circumstances. I’m going to try to be more careful, I promise.”
“Yes. In turn, thank you for not strangling the grand wazir.” But then remembering the chaos of his apartment, Nahri added, a bit reluctantly, “And thank you for the work you’ve been doing with the hospital. It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
Ali turned to look at her, a surprised grin lighting his face. “Was that a compliment?”
“No,” she said, forcing a grumpiness she didn’t feel into her voice. “It’s a simple statement of fact.”
They began crossing the garden. “So,” Ali continued, a playful edge in his voice, “what is this about dressing up in an Anahid costume?”
She looked up, eyeing him severely. “Don’t start, al Qahtani. Not when you’ve been admiring your reflection in every shiny surface we’ve passed since you got off your horse.”
Mortification swept the humor off his face. “Was it that obvious?” he whispered.
Nahri paused, savoring his embarrassment. “Only to anyone who looked your way.” She smiled sweetly. “So, everyone.”
Ali cringed, reaching out to touch his turban. “I never expected to wear this,” he said softly. “I couldn’t help but wonder how it looked.”
“Good luck with that excuse when Muntadhir learns you stole it.” Admittedly, Ali did cut a striking figure in the turban, the dazzling gold stripes picking up a warmth in his gray eyes. Still, Nahri didn’t like it on him. “It doesn’t suit you,” she said, as much to herself as to Ali.
“No,” he replied tonelessly. “I suppose of the two of us, Muntadhir looks more like what people expect of a Qahtani prince.”
She realized too late the double meaning of her words. “Oh, no, Ali. That’s not what I meant. Not at all.” Every time Nahri pinned her chador over her