The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,142

and brow. “Peace be upon you, my king,” he said, ignoring Ali. “I do indeed. May we speak inside?”

Ali tried to step away, but Ghassan caught his wrist. “No. You can spare a few minutes. Don’t think I’ve not noticed the two of you avoiding each other. It is deeply childish.”

Ali flushed and Muntadhir drew up, giving Ali a short, disdainful glance as though he were some sort of irritating bug before sweeping into the office—which was good because Ali did indeed feel a sudden childish urge to coax the water fountain outside his father’s office into ruining the expensive cloak draping his brother’s shoulders.

To say things had soured between the princes since Ali visited the Daeva temple in Muntadhir’s stead was an understatement. Despite their best efforts, Ali and Zaynab hadn’t been able to sneak Muntadhir’s regalia back into his wardrobe without getting caught, and Muntadhir—sporting a freshly bruised jaw, no doubt courtesy of their father—had thoroughly upbraided them, shouting at his younger siblings until Zaynab had been on the verge of tears and Ali on the verge of making the bottles of liquid intoxicants scattered about the room explode.

He hadn’t tried approaching his brother again. It felt like Muntadhir was constantly watching him, studying him with a ruthless calm that left Ali uneasy and more than a little heartsick. Any hope he had of reconciling with the older brother he’d once adored, the brother he still loved, was beginning to fade away.

Even so, he followed, having little other choice.

“—what do you mean you’ve solved the problem of the southern Geziri sheikhs?” Ghassan was asking. He’d seated himself at his desk and Muntadhir was standing across from him. “Because unless you’ve managed to conjure up an additional caravanserai, I don’t know how we’re going to accommodate a thousand unexpected arrivals.”

“I just met with the steward in charge of the palace grounds,” Muntadhir replied. “I think we should set up a travelers’ camp in the front gardens. The Daevas will be horrified, of course, and it would take some time to restore the grounds afterward, but it could be done beautifully: conjured silk tents between the palms, a water garden and courtyard where we could have merchants selling traditional crafts and maybe a storyteller and some musicians performing the old epics.” He smiled hesitantly. “I thought it might be a nice homage to our roots—and the sheikhs could hardly claim offense if we put them next to our own palace.”

A wistful expression had drifted across his father’s face. “That is an excellent suggestion. Very good, Muntadhir. I’m impressed. You’ve been doing fine work with the Navasatem preparations.”

Muntadhir smiled fully, perhaps the most genuine smile Ali had seen cross his face in months, as though a load had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, Abba,” he said sincerely. “I hope only to make you proud and honor our name.”

“I am certain you do.” Ghassan tented his hands. “However, after the holiday, Muntadhir, I expect you to turn your attention and charm back to your wife.”

The brief pleasure that had bloomed in his brother’s face vanished. “My wife and I are fine.”

Ghassan eyed him. “This is my palace, Emir. I know everything that goes on within its walls, which means I’m aware you and Nahri haven’t visited each other’s beds in over four months.

I married the two of you to unify our tribes, understand? It’s been nearly five years. I had two children by Hatset in less time.”

Ali cleared his throat. “Can I … leave?”

Neither man looked at him. Muntadhir was staring at their father’s desk, a muscle working in his jaw. “These matters take time, Abba,” he said finally.

“They’re taking time because you spend your nights with everyone who isn’t your wife, something I’ve warned you about more than once. Should another person—another Daeva—be distracting you from your duties … well, that person can easily be removed.”

Muntadhir’s head jerked up, and Ali started at the barely checked fury in his brother’s face. “There’s no one distracting me,” Muntadhir snapped. He was gripping Ghassan’s desk so hard his knuckles had turned white. “And I am well aware of my duties; you’ve been beating their importance into me since I was a child.”

Ghassan’s eyes blazed. “Should you find your position burdensome, Emir,” he started coldly, “I have another who can replace you, one I suspect would happily take over your marital duties and whose company your wife already prefers.”

Ali’s ears burned at the insinuation. “That’s not what—”

Disdain twisted Muntadhir’s face. “My wife