truth before she uttered the words.
“She was on the boat your father burned.”
NIGHT HAD FALLEN, THE SKY IN THE WINDOW BEHIND Ghassan the silver-purple color of twilight and heavy with fog from the day’s warm rain. Ali had all but paced holes in the hospital’s courtyard before realizing that, however little he wished to see his father, security for Navasatem rested here.
Ghassan looked unconvinced. “An attack during Navasatem? Who told you this?”
“A friend,” Ali said flatly. “One I will not be able to track down again. And she knew nothing more anyway.”
Ghassan sighed. “I’ll pass your concerns to Wajed.”
Ali stared at him. “That’s it?”
His father threw up his hands. “What else would you have me do? Do you know how many vague threats we get about the Daevas? About Nahri? Especially after the attack in your workcamp?”
“So increase her security. Cancel the procession. Cancel anything during which she’ll be exposed!”
Ghassan shook his head. “I will not be canceling any Daeva celebrations on your word. I care not to hear Kaveh screeching about it.” A vaguely hostile expression flitted across his face. “Besides … Nahri seems to think rather highly of herself lately. Why should I protect someone who so openly challenges me?”
“Because it’s your duty!” Ali said, aghast. “You are her king. Her father-in-law.”
Ghassan scoffed. “Considering the state of their marriage, I am hardly that.”
Ali couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “She’s a woman under our roof. Her protection is part of our highest code, our most sacred—”
“And I will speak to Wajed,” Ghassan interjected, in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. He rose to his feet, making his way to the windowsill. “But on another matter, your timing is good. The hospital is ready for tomorrow’s opening ceremony?”
“Yes,” Ali said, not bothering to conceal the bitterness in his voice. “I can report to the dungeon after it’s over if you like.”
Ghassan picked up a black velvet case that had been resting near the window. “That’s not where I’m sending you, Alizayd.”
There was a grim decisiveness to his voice that put Ali on edge instantly. “Where are you sending me?”
Ghassan opened the case, staring at whatever lay inside. “I had this made for you,” he said softly. “When you first returned to Daevabad. I had hoped, I had even prayed, that we might find a way past all this as a family.” He pulled free a magnificent length of dyed silk, patterned blue, purple, and gold twisting together over its shimmering surface.
A turban. A royal turban like the one Muntadhir wore. Ali’s breath caught.
Ghassan ran his fingers over the silk. “I wanted to see you wear this during Navasatem. I wanted … so much to have you at my side once again.”
At my side. Ali fought to keep his face blank. Because for the first time in his life, those simple words—that reminder of his duty as a Geziri son, the offer of one of the most privileged and safe positions in their world …
It filled him with absolute revulsion.
There was a tremor in his voice when he finally spoke. “What do you plan to do with me, Abba?”
Ghassan met his gaze, a storm of emotion in his gray eyes. “I do not know, Alizayd. I am near equally torn between declaring you my emir and having you executed.” When Ali’s eyes widened, he pressed on. “Yes. You are beyond capable for the position. It’s true you lack in diplomacy, but you have a keener command of military matters and the city’s economy than your brother ever will.” He dropped the turban cloth. “You are also the most reckless and morally inflexible person I have ever come across, perhaps the greatest danger to Daevabad’s stability since a lost Nahid strolled in with an Afshin at her side.”
His father came around the desk, and Ali found himself stepping back, the air sharp and dangerous between them. And, God forgive him—as Ghassan moved, Ali’s gaze fell on the dagger at his father’s waist.
Zaydi al Qahtani’s rebellion had started with a dagger through a throat. It would be so simple. So quick. Ali would be executed, he’d probably go to hell for killing his own father, but Daevabad’s tyrant would be gone.
And then Muntadhir would take the throne. He could see his brother doing so, panicked, grieving, and paranoid. He’d almost certainly lash out, arresting and executing anyone associated with Ali.
Ali forced himself to look into his father’s eyes. “I’ve only ever tried to act in Daevabad’s interest.” He wasn’t sure