The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,196

black water rushing up …

And then Ali crashed into darkness.

Nahri glared at the guards. “I’m excellent with faces,” she warned. “Be assured I won’t forget yours.”

One of the men snickered. “Good luck getting out of those binds.”

Fuming, Nahri returned to pacing the low stone parapet. She and a still unconscious Kaveh e-Pramukh had been dragged back to the palace and deposited at a pavilion high upon the walls overlooking the lake to await the king. It was the same place she had once stargazed with Ali, though there was no hint of the fine furnishings and sumptuous feast she remembered. Instead they were alone with four Geziri warriors bristling with weapons, warriors whose eyes had yet to leave her.

She stopped at the edge, staring over the distant, deadly water as she tried to shift the iron cuffs lower, wincing at the burn. But far worse than the pain was her feeling of helplessness. She and Kaveh had been here for what felt like hours, Nahri watching the sky grow an inky black while Jamshid was taken God only knew where.

The still lake caught her eye. Had it not been cursed, she might have been tempted to jump for her freedom. It was a long fall that would likely break a bone or two, but she was a Nahid. She could always heal.

Except that it is cursed and will tear you into a thousand pieces. Frustrated, Nahri turned back, fighting the urge to burn something.

The look on her face must have been obvious. “Watch yourself, fire worshipper,” one of the guards warned. “Believe me when I say none of us have patience for the Scourge’s whore.”

Nahri straightened up like a shot. “Call me that again and I’ll see you dead before dawn.”

He instantly moved forward, his hand dropping to the hilt of his zulfiqar before one of his fellows hissed a warning in Geziriyya, pulling him back.

“Banu Nahida?” Kaveh’s voice was weak from where he lay slumped against the wall.

Forgetting the Geziri guard, Nahri hurried to the grand wazir’s side. His eyes had blinked open, and he looked dazed. Unable to heal him, Nahri had settled for ripping a strip of cloth from his shirt and binding it around his head. Blood had soaked through the cloth in black splotches.

“Are you okay?” she asked urgently.

He touched his head and winced. “I … I think so.” He sat up slowly. “What … where is Jamshid?”

“I don’t know,” Nahri confessed. “Wajed took him from the midan, and we’ve been up here since then.”

Kaveh drew up, alarm flashing across his face. “What time is it?”

“Midnight, perhaps? Why?” she asked when alarm flashed across his eyes.

“Midnight?” he whispered. “Creator, no. I have to find him.” He grabbed her shoulder with his bound hands, and Nahri jumped at the breach in etiquette. “I need you to think, Nahri. Did they say anything about where they might be taking Jamshid? Anything at all?” His face looked gaunt in the dim light. “It wasn’t the Citadel, was it?”

She jerked free. “I don’t know. And you’re not the only one with questions. Why did you lie about Muntadhir being hurt?”

Kaveh looked only slightly remorseful. “Because I needed you and Jamshid somewhere safe tonight. Lady Nisreen … she was supposed to stay with the two of you in the infirmary, but …” Sorrow creased his features. “The Grand Temple seemed the next safest option.”

“Are you worried the shafit are planning another attack?”

Kaveh shook his head. He was toying with a ring on his hand, a gold band crowned with what appeared to be a copper-striped agate. “No, Banu Nahri. Not the shafit.”

The door opened just then, the guards bowing their heads as Ghassan entered the pavilion. Nahri drew back, dread coursing through her. There was open rage in his eyes—an expression that contrasted sharply with the weary slump of his shoulders, and one that sent a shiver down her spine. Ghassan al Qahtani was not a man who easily betrayed his emotions.

He drew to a stop, looking coldly down at the Daevas on the ground. “Leave us,” he snapped to the guards.

The soldiers were gone the next moment, closing the door behind them.

Nahri struggled to her feet. “What do you want?” she demanded. “How dare you drag us here when our people are wounded and grieving because of a lapse in your security?”

Ghassan tossed a scroll at her feet. “Are you responsible for this?” he asked.

Nahri picked it up. She recognized Ali’s handwriting immediately. She read it … and then