The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,163

like Seyyida Mhaqal is sick again.”

“Then you better get over there,” Nahri replied. “If you have time to construct horses out of cushions, my brilliant apprentice, you have time to deal with fireworms.”

He made a face but slipped from the saddle, heading for the sick patient. He didn’t take his cane, and Nahri could not help but feel a quiet sense of triumph as he made his way steadily across the room. It might not be happening as quickly as Jamshid liked, but he was getting better.

She glanced at Nisreen, wanting to share her happiness. But Nisreen quickly dropped her gaze, collecting the glasswork Nahri had been using to prepare potions earlier.

Nahri moved to stop her. “I can do that. You shouldn’t have to clean up after me.”

“I don’t mind.”

But Nahri did. She pulled the pair of beakers from Nisreen’s hands and set them down, taking the other woman’s arm. “Come.”

Nisreen made a startled sound. “But—”

“No but. You and I need to talk.” She snatched up one of the bottles of soma that Razu had gifted her; it was proving a rather effective pain management technique. “Jamshid,” she called. “You’re in charge of the infirmary.”

His eyes went wide over the bucket he was trying to maneuver beneath Seyyida Mhaqal. Curly gold fireworms clung to his wrists. “I’m what?”

“We’ll be right outside.” She escorted Nisreen to the balcony, pulling her to a bench, and pressing the bottle of soma into her hands. “Drink.”

Nisreen looked indignant. “I beg your pardon?”

“Drink,” Nahri repeated. “You and I clearly have some things to say to each other, and this will make it easier.”

Nisreen took a delicate sip, making a face. “You have been spending too much time with djinn, to be acting thus.”

“See? Aren’t you happy you got that off your chest?” Nahri asked. “Tell me I’ve ruined my reputation. That the priests are saying I’ve strayed and Kaveh is calling me a traitor.” Her voice grew slightly desperate. “None of you can meet my eyes nor want to talk to me, so surely that’s what’s being said.”

“Banu Nahri …” Nisreen sighed—and then took another swig of the soma. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You laid hands on dozens of shafit in broad daylight. You broke Suleiman’s code.”

“To save lives,” Nahri said, defending herself fiercely. “The lives of innocent people attacked by members of our tribe.”

Nisreen shook her head. “It is not always as simple as that.”

“Then you think I’m wrong?” Nahri asked, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. “Is that why you’ve barely been speaking to me?”

“No, child, I don’t think you’re wrong.” Nisreen touched Nahri’s hand. “I think you’re brilliant and courageous and your heart is in the right place. If I hold my tongue, it’s because you share your mother’s stubborn streak and I would rather serve quietly at your side than lose you altogether.”

“You make me sound like Ghassan,” Nahri replied, stung.

Nisreen passed over the bottle. “You did ask.”

Nahri took a long drink of the soma, wincing as it burned down her throat. “I think I went too far with him,” she confessed; Ghassan’s cold eyes as he gazed at her in the ravaged workcamp were a thing not easily forgotten. “The king, I mean. I challenged him. I had to do it, but …” She paused, remembering his threat to reveal her as a shafit. “I don’t think he’s going to let it pass unpunished.”

Nisreen’s expression darkened. “Did he threaten you?”

“He doesn’t need to. Not directly. Though I suspect he sent Hatset away in warning to me, as well as to Ali. A reminder of the place of queens and princesses in his court, no matter how powerful their family.” Nahri’s lips thinned in distaste. “Right now, he and I hold each other in check, but should things shift …” She took another swig of the soma, her head beginning to swim. “I’m so tired of this, Nisreen. All this plotting and scheming just to keep breathing. It feels like I’m treading water … and, God, do I want to rest.”

That lay between them for a few long moments. Nahri stared at the garden, the setting sun throwing it in shadow. The air smelled rich, the soil wet from the day’s unexpected rain. The soma in her veins tingled pleasantly.

A tickle at her wrist drew her attention, and Nahri glanced down to see a morning glory’s tender vine nudging her arm. She opened her palm, one of the bright pink flowers blooming in her