The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,181

were wild. “Go on,” he goaded, bringing the blade closer to his neck. “Do it. Abba will be so proud.” His voice broke. “He’ll make you emir, he’ll give you Nahri. All the things you pretend you don’t want.”

Shaking, Ali fought for a response. “I … I don’t—”

The door burst open, Lubayd and Zaynab framed in the dusty light. Ali immediately dropped the khanjar, but it was too late. His sister took one look at them sprawled on the floor, and her eyes flashed in a mix of fury and disappointment that would have made their mother proud. “Thank you for helping me find my brothers,” she said flatly to Lubayd. “If you wouldn’t mind permitting us a moment …”

Lubayd was already backing through the door. “Happily!” He pulled it closed behind him.

Zaynab took a deep breath. “Get off of each other this instant.” When both princes promptly separated, she continued, her voice seething, “Now would one of you please explain what in God’s name just happened in the arena?”

Muntadhir glared at him. “Zaydi found out about Nasir and lost his mind.”

“Someone had to,” Ali snapped back. “And don’t you act all innocent! Do you think I don’t know my saddle was loosened? You could have killed me!”

“I didn’t touch your damned saddle!” Muntadhir shot back, climbing to his feet. “Don’t make an enemy of half the city and then be surprised when people try to sabotage you.” Fresh outrage crossed his face. “And you have some nerve accusing me of anything. I’ve tried to tell you a dozen times to back off and then you go and call me a coward to Abba’s face when all I’m doing is trying to clean up your mess!”

“I was trying to stand up for Zaynab, and for that, you embarrassed me in front of the entire arena!” Hurt rose in Ali’s voice. “You insulted Nahri, you let your friends call me a crocodile …” Even saying it stung. “My God, is this what Abba has turned you into? Have you been imitating him so long that cruelty is now your first instinct?”

“Alizayd, enough,” Zaynab said when Muntadhir jerked back as though Ali had slapped him. “Can Zaynab get a word in edgewise, since apparently my future is the one that sparked this latest fight?”

“Sorry,” Ali muttered, falling silent.

“Many thanks,” she said acidly. She sighed, peeling back the veil she’d worn in front of Lubayd. Guilt rose in Ali’s chest. His sister looked exhausted, more than he’d ever seen before. “I know about Nasir, Ali. I don’t like it, but I don’t need you running your mouth about it before even speaking with me.” She glanced at Muntadhir. “What did Abba say?”

“That he’s arriving this week,” Muntadhir replied glumly. “He told me to spend time with him and find out what sort of man he is.”

A muscle worked in Zaynab’s cheek. “Maybe you can let me know as well.”

“And that’s it?” Ali asked. “That’s all either of you are prepared to do?”

Muntadhir glared at him. “You’ll forgive me for not taking political advice from someone who’s been living in a village for five years and whose foot is all but attached to his mouth.” His expression twisted. “Do you think I want to become like him, Zaydi? Do you have any idea of what I’ve had to give up?” He laced his hands behind his head, pacing. “Daevabad is a tinderbox, and the only way Abba keeps it from exploding is by holding it tight. By making sure everyone knows that if they risk its safety, they risk the lives of everyone they love.”

“But that’s not who you are, Dhiru,” Ali protested. “And that’s not the only way to rule.”

“No? Maybe we should try it your way, then?” Muntadhir turned back, his gaze cutting through Ali. “Because I think you’re more like Abba than you want to admit. But where Abba wants stability, you want justice. Your version of justice—even if you have to drag us there kicking and screaming. And let me tell you, little brother … I’m getting pretty damn clear eyed where you’re concerned. You’re enjoying the favor of a lot of angry people with weapons and grievances in this city … and how convenient, then, that you have the Ayaanle ready and willing to financially support you.”

“The Ayaanle,” Zaynab said, her voice biting, “are a great deal more nuanced than you give us credit for, and this one in particular has been scrambling to make peace between you two