The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,145

jumped to his feet and ran for the infirmary.

Daeva or not, Nahri was fairly certain she was never going to like horses.

As if hearing her thoughts, their mount put on a burst of speed, dashing around the next corner at a breakneck pace. Squeezing her eyes shut, Nahri tightened her grip around Ali’s waist.

He let out a choked sound of protest. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t take your own horse,” he said for what seemed like the tenth time. “It would have been more appropriate.”

“This is faster,” she said defensively, not wanting to admit her shortcomings as a rider. It was a skill other Daevas prided themselves on. “Muntadhir’s always going on about how much he loves this horse. He says it’s the fastest in Daevabad.”

Ali groaned. “You might have told me it was his favorite before we stole it.”

Her temper flared. “Maybe you should have worried about that before bursting into my infirmary ranting about conspiracies.”

“But you believe me?” Ali asked, hoping rising in his voice.

I believe Kaveh is up to no good. The grand wazir had made his hostility to the shafit clear, though Nahri wasn’t sure she believed he could have plotted such a vile act. There had always been something she hadn’t quite trusted about him, but he didn’t seem to be a cruel man.

She settled for a different answer. “It’s such a monumentally absurd story—even for you—to concoct that I’m assuming there’s a chance it’s the truth.”

“How gracious of you,” Ali muttered.

They ducked to avoid a low-hanging line of laundry. They were taking a back passage through the Geziri Quarter that Ali believed was faster, and the windowless expanses of the broad stone mansions loomed up around them, the faint scent of refuse clinging to the air. The horse jumped a wide drainage canal, and Nahri swore, hugging Ali tighter to hook her fingers around his weapons belt. That was an item she knew he’d keep secure.

She heard him murmur a prayer under his breath. “Do you have to do that?” she hissed into his ear, fighting embarrassment. Nahri was not going to pretend the prince was the most … objectionable person to hold tight. She was a grown woman; she could quietly note the positive effects daily sparring might have on a man without getting worked up about it. Ali was the one making this unnecessarily awkward. “You know, for someone with such a clear recollection of one of Kaveh’s courtesans, you’re acting pretty prim.”

Ali sputtered. “I didn’t do anything with his courtesans!” he said, defending himself. “I would never. Forgive me for remembering a face!”

She felt mildly insulted at the heat in his voice. “Do you have something against Daeva women?”

“I … no, of course not,” he stammered back. Ali shifted as if to put space between their bodies, but another lunge of the horse sent them hard against each other. “Can we … can we not talk about this right now?”

Nahri rolled her eyes but let it go. Fighting with Ali wasn’t going to help her face down a Daeva mob.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Nahri knew the Daevas listened to her—and she had a fair amount of confidence in her ability to persuade—but the prospect of confronting an angry crowd scared even her.

It won’t be like that, she tried to assure herself. You’ll swear on your family’s name to see justice done and then order them to go home. The most important thing was to prevent this from spiraling out of control.

It wasn’t long before the alley began to widen. They turned another corner, and Ali slowed the horse. Just past an open archway, Nahri caught a glimpse of the street. The horse’s clattering hooves softened.

The sound was immediately replaced by wailing. Nahri inhaled sharply, smelling blood and smoke on the warm air. Ali spurred the horse out of the alley, a choked cry of denial on his lips …

They were too late.

THERE WAS NO DAEVA MOB. NO CORDON OF ROYAL Guard trying to establish order. Instead what had been a happy, lively neighborhood of workshops and new homes this morning had been reduced to smoldering husks. The air was choked with smoke, a gray haze obscuring much of the camp.

“No,” Ali begged softly as he slid from the horse. “God, no …”

Nahri jumped off after him. She could hear a baby crying, and sick with fear for Subha’s family, she lunged forward.

Ali caught her wrist. “Nahri …” His voice was heavy with emotion. “We’re alone. If people blame you,