The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,182

idiots for months.” She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. “But things were getting worse in Daevabad before Ali came back, Dhiru. I know you don’t want to see it, but they were.”

Muntadhir threw up his hands. “And what would you have me do? Ruin a financial alliance we need because my sister will be lonely? Make Alizayd my Qaid again and rightfully lose all my supporters for handing my army to a fanatic?” His words rang with true desperation. “Tell me how to fix this between us because I don’t see a way.”

Ali cleared the lump growing in his throat. “We’re not the problem.” He hesitated, his mind racing. The cold realization he’d had with Fatumai after learning what his father had done to the Tanzeem children. His conversation with Nahri last night. All the charges Muntadhir had neatly laid out. There was really only one thing it led to, a conclusion clear as glass.

He met his brother’s and sister’s expectant eyes. “Abba needs to be replaced.”

There was a moment of silent shock and then Zaynab let out a choked, aghast sound he’d never before heard from his ever-refined sister.

Muntadhir stared at him before dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you actually found a way to make this conversation worse.” His voice was muffled through his fingers.

“Just listen to me,” Ali rushed on. “He’s been going astray for years. I understand his concerns about Daevabad’s stability, but there is only so long this tactic of trampling anything that opposes him can work. You can’t build anything on a cracked foundation.”

“And now you’re talking like a poet,” Muntadhir moaned. “You really have lost your mind.”

“I’m tired of watching innocent people die,” Ali said bluntly. “I’m tired of being complicit in such suffering. The Daevas, the shafit … do you know he had a boat full of refugee children burned merely to execute a few Tanzeem fighters? That he ignored a threat I passed on regarding Nahri’s safety because he said she was growing arrogant?” He glanced at Zaynab, knowing his sister shared at least a few of his views. “He’s crossed too many lines. He shouldn’t be king.”

Zaynab’s face was conflicted, but she took a deep breath. “Ali’s not entirely wrong, Dhiru.”

Muntadhir groaned. “Oh, Zaynab, not you too.” He crossed the floor to start rifling through one of the supply chests, pulling free a small silver bottle and ripping open the top. “Is this liquor? Because I want to be completely intoxicated when Abba gets wind that his children are plotting a coup in a fucking closet.”

“That’s weapons polish,” Ali said quickly.

Zaynab crossed to Muntadhir’s side, knocking the bottle out of his hands when he seemed to still be evaluating it. “Stop. Just listen for a moment,” she insisted. “Between the three of us, we might have the support. If we presented a united front, Abba would be hard-pressed to oppose us. We’d need to get the majority of the nobles and the bulk of the Citadel on our side, but I suspect those whose hearts aren’t amenable might find their purses are.”

“Do you think we could do that?” Ali asked. “We’ve already spent a fair bit on the hospital.”

“Little brother, you’d be surprised how far the illusion of wealth will take you even if the deliverance of such promise takes longer,” Zaynab said archly.

“Ayaanle gold,” Muntadhir cut in sarcastically. “Well, I suppose I know which way the throne will be swinging.”

“It won’t.” Ideas were coming together in Ali’s head as he spoke. “I don’t know who should rule or how, but there have to be voices besides ours shaping Daevabad’s future. Maybe more than one voice.” He paused, thinking fast. “The Nahids … they had a council. Perhaps we could try something like that.”

Zaynab’s response was sharp. “There are a lot of voices in Daevabad who don’t think very fondly of us, Ali. You start giving power away and we could end up getting chased back to Am Gezira.”

“Enough.” Muntadhir shushed them, darting a glance around. “Stop scheming. You’re going to get yourselves killed, and for nothing. There’s no overthrowing Abba unless you can take Suleiman’s seal ring from him. Do you have any idea how to do that?”

“No?” Ali confessed. He hadn’t thought of the seal ring. “I mean, he doesn’t wear it on his hand. I figured he kept it in a vault or …”

“It’s in his heart,” Muntadhir said bluntly.

Ali’s mouth fell open. That was not a possibility that