The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,154

before shifting.”

Dara was so stunned he actually let the ifrit help him into a seated position, leaning heavily against the trunk of a dead tree. “What was that?” he whispered.

“What we once were.” Yearning filled Vizaresh’s voice. “What we were once capable of.”

“But …” Dara fought for words. No speech seemed worthy of the magic he’d just experienced. “But it was so … peaceful. So beautiful.”

The ifrit narrowed his yellow eyes. “Why should that surprise you?”

“Because that’s not what our stories say,” Dara replied. “The original daevas were troublemakers. Tricksters who deceived and hunted humans for their own—”

“Oh, forget the damn humans for once.” Exasperation creased Vizaresh’s fiery visage. “Your people are obsessed. For all your laws about staying clear of humanity, your kind are just like them now, with your petty politics and constant wars. This—” He gripped Dara’s hand, and with a surge of magic, it turned to flame. “This is how you were made. You were created to burn, to exist between worlds—not to form yourself into armies and pledge your lives to leaders who would toss them away.”

The words struck too close to the misgivings Dara tried to keep buried. “Banu Manizheh is not tossing our lives away,” he defended her sharply. “We have a duty to save our people.”

Vizaresh chuckled. “Ah, Darayavahoush, there are always people to save. And always cunning men and women around who find a way to take advantage of that duty and harness it into power. If you were wise—if you were a true daeva—you would have laughed in the face of your Manizheh the moment she brought you back and vanished on the next wind. You would be enjoying this, enjoying the possibility of all the lovely new things you could learn.”

Dara caught his breath against the sharp tug of longing in his chest. “A purposeless, lonely existence,” he said, forcing disdain he did not entirely feel into his voice.

“A life of wandering, of wonderment,” Vizaresh corrected, hunger in his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know what you just experienced? There are worlds you can’t see as a mortal, beings and realms and kingdoms beyond your comprehension. We took mates when we desired companionship, parted amicably when it was time to travel the winds again. There were entire centuries my feet didn’t touch the ground.” His voice grew nostalgic, a smile curving his lips. “Though admittedly when they did, it was typically because of the lure of human entertainment.”

“Such entertainment brought the wrath of one of the Creator’s prophets upon you,” Dara pointed out. “It cost you this existence you paint so lovingly.”

Vizaresh shook his head. “Dallying with the occasional human was not why Suleiman punished us. Not the entire reason anyway.”

“Then what was the reason?”

The ifrit gave him a wicked smile. “Are you asking questions now? I thought all you did was obey.”

Dara checked his temper. He might despise the ifrit, but in a small way, he was beginning to understand them—or at least, to understand how it felt to be the last of your kind.

And he was truly curious as to what Vizaresh had to say. “And I thought you wanted me to learn new things,” he said archly. “Unless this is all bluster and you know nothing.”

Vizaresh’s eyes danced. “What will you give me for telling you?”

Dara grinned. “I won’t smash you against a mountain.”

“Always so violent, Darayavahoush.” Vizaresh regarded him, pulling and twisting at a length of flame between his hands as if it were a toy. Abruptly, he dropped to sit across from Dara. “Fine, I will tell you why Suleiman cursed us. It was not for playing with humans—it was because we warred with the marid over those humans.”

Dara frowned. This was not a story he’d ever heard before. “We went to war with the marid over humans?”

“We did,” Vizaresh replied. “Think, Darayavahoush. How did Aeshma summon the marid of this lake?”

“He had me kill one of its acolytes,” Dara said slowly. “A human acolyte. He said the marid would be obliged to respond.”

“Precisely.”

“Precisely what?”

Vizaresh leaned in close, as though confiding a secret. “Bargains, Darayavahoush. Debts. A human summons me to poison a rival and later I take their corpse as a ghoul. A village with dying crops offers the blood of one of its screaming members to the river, and the marid promptly flood it, filling their fields with rich silt.”

Dara drew back. “You speak of evil things.”

“I’d not thought you so sensitive, Scourge.” When Dara glared, he shrugged. “Believe it or