its edges pushing back at her consciousness as it advanced. It was worse than her struggles with Jamshid, worse even than her desperate fight to save Nisreen. Nahri—who’d just thrown a man across the room and conjured a sandstorm—could do nothing to fight the zulfiqar’s poison.
Muntadhir gently pushed her hands away. “Nahri, stop. You don’t have time for this.”
“We have time,” Ali cut in. “Just try again. Try harder!”
“You don’t have time.” Muntadhir’s voice was firm. “Zaydi, look at me. I need you to listen and not react. Abba is dead. You need to go with Nahri and retrieve Suleiman’s seal. She knows how.”
Ali’s mouth fell open, but before he could speak, there was a rumble from the pile of debris.
Muntadhir paled. “Impossible. You dropped a damned ceiling on him.”
Another rumble seemed to answer, dust and plaster shivering.
Ali reached for his brother. “We need to get you out of here.”
“That’s not happening.” Muntadhir took a steadying breath and then pushed himself into a seated position. He glanced around, his gaze settling on an object glimmering in the dust.
A silver bow.
A hint of vindictiveness flitted across his face. “Nahri, would you hand me that bow and see if you can’t find the quiver?”
Feeling sick, she nonetheless complied. She knew in her heart whose bow this was. “What are you doing?” she asked as he staggered to his feet holding the bow, determination and pain etched across his features.
Muntadhir swayed, pulling free his khanjar. He beckoned Ali closer and then shoved it in his brother’s belt. “Buying you time.” He coughed, then nodded at the khanjar. “Take that and your zulfiqar, akhi. Fight well.”
Ali didn’t move. He suddenly looked very young. “Dhiru, I … I can’t leave you,” he said, his voice trembling, as if this was something he could argue away. “I’m supposed to protect you,” he whispered. “I’m supposed to be your Qaid.”
Muntadhir gave him a sad smile. “I’m pretty sure that means you have to do as I say.” His expression softened. “It’s okay, Zaydi. We’re okay.” He nocked an arrow, something broken in his face even as he winked. “Hell, I think this means I might even make it to your Paradise.”
Tears were running unchecked down Ali’s cheeks. Nahri quietly picked up his zulfiqar and then stepped forward, taking his hand. She met Muntadhir’s eyes, a look of understanding passing between them. “We’ll get Suleiman’s seal,” she promised. “And I’ll find Jamshid. You have my word.”
At that, Muntadhir’s eyes finally grew damp. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Please tell him …” He took a deep breath, rocking back slightly, obviously struggling to gather himself. When his gaze met hers again, there was a mix of regret and apology there. “Please tell him I loved him. Tell him I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for him sooner.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and then drew up, looking away. “Now go. I can count my short reign a success if I manage to convince the two most stubborn people in Daevabad to do something they don’t want to do.”
Nahri nodded, her own vision clouding as she dragged Ali away.
“Dhiru,” he choked out again. “Akhi, please …”
The rubble gave a giant shake and then a horrible, heart-wrenchingly familiar—and very angry—roar.
“Go!” Muntadhir shouted.
They ran.
Agony, the kind of pain Dara hadn’t felt since being dragged back to life, was the first thing he was aware of. Crushed limbs and broken teeth, torn flesh and a throbbing in his head so strong he nearly wanted to succumb back to the blackness.
He twitched his fingers, feeling the rough stone and splintered wood beneath them. His eyes blearily winked open, but Dara saw nothing but darkness. He grunted, trying to free the arm twisted painfully underneath him.
He couldn’t move. He was pressed in, crushed from all sides.
Nahri. She brought the ceiling down on me. She actually brought the ceiling down on me. He’d been shocked by the sight of her looking like some sort of wrathful goddess, smoke twisting around her hands, her black curls blowing wildly in the scorching wind she’d summoned. She’d looked like a Nahid icon he might have bowed to in the Temple.
But the hurt in her eyes, the betrayal … that was the woman from Cairo.
You are going to be risking the woman you actually serve if you do not get out of here. The thought of Manizheh and his mission was enough to get Dara moving again, pain be damned. The fate of Daevabad hung in the balance.