The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,184

her neck.

Nahri bit back a laugh at the sight of the pink blossoms tangled across Ali’s terrifying friend. “Don’t they celebrate Navasatem in Am Gezira?”

The other woman cast a dismayed look at a pair of drunk young men on the float behind them. They were giggling madly, spinning around the brass horses, each with a bottle of plum beer in hand. “We do not celebrate anything in such a manner.”

“Ah,” Nahri said softly. “Small wonder Ali likes it there.”

“You are enjoying yourself?” she heard Nisreen call from below. Nisreen was riding alongside the chariots with the rest of the Daeva elders, their horses draped in shimmering cloth the color of the rising sun.

Nahri leaned over to shout down to her. “You might have mentioned I’d be seated on a shedu,” she complained. “Ghassan is going to burn something when he sees this.”

Nisreen shook her head. “It’s all in good fun. The first night of the new moon is always the wildest.” She nodded at the drunken youths. “By this evening, more Daevas than not will look like them. It doesn’t leave us much of a threat to the king.”

Nahri sighed. “I look forward to spending all night tending to their injuries.” She’d already found herself contemplating how quickly she would be able to get to the young men behind her when one of them inevitably fell and cracked his skull open.

“I’d say that’s a fair possibility. But we have Jamshid in the infirmary with us tonight, and we’ll make sure none of us leave.” Nisreen paused. “Maybe you could ask that shafit healer you’re collaborating with to join us. She could bring her family.”

Nahri glanced down in surprise. “You want me to ask Subha and her family to spend the night in the infirmary?” It seemed a bizarre request, especially considering the source.

“I think it’s a smart idea. We could use the extra hands, and you’ve mentioned her child is still nursing.”

Nahri considered that. It would be good to have Subha’s help, and she’d been wanting to show the doctor the infirmary anyway. “I’ll send her a message when we get back to the palace.”

She straightened back up, peering at the street ahead and trying to get her bearings. It looked like they were almost at the midan.

Nearly out of the shafit district. Nahri flushed, hating how quickly the thought—and the relief—had come. Ali’s worry had seemed sincere, but it was difficult to parse out his warning from the rest of their conversation, and that was a subject she refused to think about today.

Even so, she glanced around at the crowd. It was mostly Daeva, though there were plenty of purebloods from the djinn tribes pressed against the barricades, spinning starry sparklers and sharing cakes and beer. A line of soldiers separated them from the shafit onlookers, many of whom were also cheering but were held far back.

Guilt stabbed at her. That wasn’t right, regardless of the threat. Nahri would have to see if there wasn’t some sort of bonus celebration she could put together for the shafit to make up for it.

She shifted on the wooden shedu, pulling her chador past her rounded ears. It was unusually and mercifully light—no heavy gold ornaments draped over her head today. Stitched together from layers of silk so delicate they were nearly transparent and dyed in a beautiful array of colors, the chador was meant to give the appearance of shedu wings. Nahri lifted her face to the sun, listening to the delighted chatter of the Daeva children around her.

I wish Dara could have seen this. The thought rose in her head unbidden and unexpected, and yet oddly enough did not fill her with the tumultuous mix of emotions that memories of Dara usually did. She and Dara might have been of very different minds about the future, but she could not help but hope the Afshin would have been proud to see her sitting upon a wooden shedu today.

Movement caught her eyes ahead; a line of Daeva riders was approaching to join the procession. Nahri grinned as she recognized Jamshid among them. She waved, catching his eye, and he lifted his cap in acknowledgment, gesturing with a wide, giddy smile at the horse beneath him.

A loud bang sounded, an explosive rumble both strange and distantly familiar. God only knew what it was. Some Daeva had probably conjured a set of flying drums.

The noise came again, and this time there was a shout—and then a scream, accompanied by a burst of white