The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,32

small smile lit her face. “It is much appreciated. Please tell your men to bring me one of their relics as soon as possible.”

“Their relics?” Djinn and Daeva alike all wore relics—a bit of blood, sometimes a baby tooth or lock of hair, often paired with a holy verse or two, all bound in metal and worn on the person. They were safeguards, to be used to bring a soul back into a conjured body should one be enslaved by an ifrit. “What do you want with their …”

The question died on his lips. Kaveh e-Pramukh had emerged from the inner room to join them.

Dara just managed to keep his mouth from falling open. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more: that Kaveh had stepped out of the small, private chamber in which Manizheh slept, or that the grand wazir looked terrible. He might have aged fifteen years, not five, his face scored by lines and his hair and mustache mostly silver. He was thin, the shadowed swells under his eyes indicating a man who had seen too much and not slept enough.

But by the Creator, did those eyes find him. And when they did, they filled with all the anger and betrayal that had undoubtedly been seething inside him since that night on the boat.

Manizheh caught the wazir’s wrist. “Kaveh,” she said softly.

The practiced words of regret vanished from Dara’s mind. He crossed the room, falling to his knees.

“I am so sorry, Kaveh.” The apology tumbled inelegantly from his lips. “I never meant to hurt him. I would have taken a blade to myself had I—”

“Sixty-four,” Kaveh cut in coldly.

Dara blinked. “What?”

“Sixty-four. It is the number of Daevas who were killed in the weeks following your death. Some died after being interrogated, innocents who had nothing to do with your flight. Others because they protested what they saw as your unjust murder at the hands of Prince Alizayd. The rest because Ghassan let the shafit attack us, in an effort to muscle our tribe back into compliance.” Kaveh’s mouth thinned. “If you are going to offer useless words of remorse, you should at least be reminded of the extent of what you’re responsible for. My son lives. Others do not.”

Dara’s face burned. Did Kaveh not think he regretted, down to his marrow, what his actions had led to? That he wasn’t reminded of his mistake every day as he watched over the traumatized remnant of the Daeva Brigade?

He gritted his teeth. “So in your eyes I should have stood silently by as Banu Nahri was forced to marry that lecherous sand fly?”

“Yes,” Kaveh said bluntly. “That is exactly what you should have done. You should have bowed your damn head and taken the governorship in Zariaspa. You could have quietly trained a militia for years in Daevastana while Banu Nahri lulled the Qahtanis into a false sense of peace. Ghassan is not a young man. Alizayd and Muntadhir could have easily been manipulated into warring against each other once Muntadhir took the throne. We could have let the Geziris destroy themselves and then swept in to take over with minimal bloodshed.” His eyes flashed. “I told you we had allies and support outside Daevabad because I trusted you. Because I didn’t want you to do something rash before we were prepared.” His voice turned scornful. “I never imagined the supposedly clever Darayavahoush e-Afshin, the rebel who almost beat Zaydi al Qahtani, would risk us all because he wanted to run away.”

The fire under Manizheh’s flask flared, and with it, Dara’s anger. “I was not running—”

“That’s enough,” Manizheh cut in, glaring at them both. “Afshin, calm yourself. Kaveh …” She shook her head. “Whatever the consequences, Dara acted to protect my daughter from a fate I fought for decades. I cannot fault him for that. And if you think Ghassan wasn’t looking for a reason to crack down on the Daevas the instant a Nahid and Afshin strolled through the gates of Daevabad, you clearly do not know him at all.” She gave them another sharp look. “Tearing each other apart is not why we are here.” She gestured to a heap of floor cushions arranged around her fire altar. “Sit.”

Chastened, Dara obeyed, rising to his feet and moving toward the cushions. After a few moments, Kaveh did the same, still glowering.

Manizheh placed herself between them. “Would you conjure some wine?” she asked Dara. “I suspect you could both use it.”

Dara was fairly certain that the only thing Kaveh wanted