The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,155

not, I once agreed with you. I was content with my own innate magic, but not all daevas felt similarly. They enjoyed the thrall of human devotion and encouraged it where they could. And the marid did not like that.”

“Why not?”

Vizaresh toyed with the battered bronze chain he wore around his neck. “The marid are ancient creatures, older even than daevas. The human practices that fed them were established before humans even began raising cities. And when some of those humans began to prefer us?” He clucked his tongue. “The marid have an appetite for vengeance that rivals that of your Nahids and Qahtanis. If a human turned from them to beg intercession from a daeva, they’d drown its entire village. In retaliation, our people started doing the same.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Flood and burn down a few too many cities and suddenly you’re getting dragged before some ranting human prophet in possession of a magic ring.”

Dara tried to take that all in. “If that’s true, it sounds like the punishment was rather deserved. But I do not understand … if the marid were also responsible, why were they not disciplined?”

Vizaresh flashed him a mocking grin, his lips pulling back over his curved fangs. “Who says they weren’t?” He seemed delighted at Dara’s confusion. “You would make for a better companion if you were clever. I would laugh to see the chaos a true daeva would wreak in your position.”

I would cause no chaos. I would leave. Dara shoved the thought away as soon as it came. “I’m not like you.” His gaze caught on the chain Vizaresh was still fingering, and his irritation sparked. “And were you clever, you would not wear that in my presence.”

“This?” The ifrit pulled the chain free from his bronze chest plate. Three iron rings hung from its length, crowned with emeralds that winked with unnatural malice. “Trust me, Darayavahoush, I am not fool enough to touch one of your followers even if they should beg it of me.” He caressed the rings. “These are empty now, but they have saved me during bleaker centuries.”

“Enslaving the souls of fellow daeva saved you?”

True anger flashed in the ifrit’s eyes for the first time. “They were not my fellows,” he snapped. “They were weak, mewling things who threw their allegiance to the family of so-called healers, the Nahid blood poisoners who hunted my true fellows.” He sniffed. “They should have been glad for the power I gave them; it was a taste of what we once were.”

Dara’s skin crawled at Vizaresh’s words, but he was thankful for it. What was he doing letting Vizaresh fill his mind with dreams and likely lies that would pull him away from Manizheh? Was Dara so foolish as to forget how deceptive the ifrit could be?

He rose to his feet. “I may not remember much of my time in slavery, but I assure you I was not glad to be forced to wield magic—no matter how powerful—in the service of violent human whims. It was despicable.”

He walked away, not waiting for Vizaresh’s response. Ahead, Dara could hear laughter and music from the feast beyond the tents. Night had fallen, a thin sliver of moon and thick cluster of stars making the pale tents and bone-white beach glow with reflected celestial light. The scent of spiced rice with sour cherries and sweet pistachio porridge—his family’s recipes—sent a newly sharp ache into his heart. Suleiman’s eye, how was it possible to still miss them so much?

A closer—rather drunken—giggle caught his ear.

“—what will you do for it?” It was Irtemiz, teasingly holding a bottle of wine behind her back. Bahram’s arms were around her waist as they staggered into view, but the young man went pale when he noticed Dara.

“Afshin!” He stepped away from Irtemiz so fast he half stumbled. “I, er, we didn’t mean to intrude upon you. Your brooding.” His eyes went bright with embarrassment. “Not brooding! That’s not what I meant. Not that there’s anything wrong with—”

Dara waved him off, admittedly a little chastened. “It is fine.” He eyed them, noting that Irtemiz’s coat was already open and Bahram’s belt missing. “Are the two of you not enjoying the feast?”

Irtemiz offered a weak smile, color rising in her cheeks. “Just taking a walk?” she offered. “You know, to better … er, prepare ourselves for such heavy food.”

Dara snorted. Another time, he might have tried to put an end to such trysts—he didn’t need lovers’ spats among his