The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,51

their most sacred code and lain with a human. That she’d been a cunning thief who lied as easily as she breathed seemed proof of every negative stereotype Dara had heard about the shafit.

But then … she became so much more. He had felt shockingly free with her—free to be a normal man and not the celebrated Afshin or the despised Scourge, free to exchange flirtatious barbs with a quick-witted, beautiful woman, and delight in the unexpected stirring her magnetic, mocking grin caused in his shuttered heart. All because Nahri hadn’t known their history. She was the first person Dara had spoken to in centuries who knew nothing about his past—and so he’d been able to leave it behind.

He’d known theirs was foolish affection, had known it couldn’t last, and yet Dara had been desperate to keep the worst from her—a decision he still regretted. Had he been honest with Nahri and confessed it all … given her a chance to make her own choice … he could not help but wonder if she would have chosen to escape Daevabad at his side without him putting a blade to Alizayd al Qahtani’s throat.

Not that it mattered now. Nahri had seen exactly what Dara was on the boat that night.

“Are you all right?” Startled, Dara glanced up to find Manizheh watching him, a knowing expression on her face. “You look to be contemplating something weighty.”

Dara forced a smile. “You remind me of your ancestors,” he said, evading the question. “When I was a child, I used to think they could read minds.”

Manizheh laughed, a rare sound. “Nothing so fantastical. But when you spend two centuries attuned to every heartbeat, skin flush, and inhalation that surrounds you, you learn to read people.” She gave him a pointed look. “The question remains.”

Dara flinched. At first glance, there wasn’t much resemblance between Manizheh and her daughter. Manizheh was shorter and more compact, reminding him in no small way of his own mother, a woman who could cook up a meal for fifty, then break a spoon over her knee to stab a man. Manizheh’s eyes, though, the sharp black eyes that tugged down slightly at the outer edge—those were Nahri’s. And when they lit with challenge, they cut through Dara rather effectively.

“I am fine.” He swept his hand toward the distant ground. “Appreciating the scenery.”

“It is beautiful,” she agreed. “It reminds me of Zariaspa. Rustam and I used to spend summers with the Pramukhs when we were young.” Her voice turned wistful. “They were the happiest days of my life. We were always dashing about, climbing mountains, racing simurgh, experimenting with whatever forbidden plants and herbs we could.” A sad smile crossed her face. “The closest thing to freedom we experienced.”

Dara cocked his head. “Perhaps you are fortunate you did not have an Afshin. That all sounds terribly risky. We never would have permitted it.”

Manizheh laughed again. “No, there weren’t any legendary guardians around to ruin our fun, and the Pramukhs were fairly indulgent as long as we brought Kaveh along. They seemed not to realize he was equally irresponsible.” She saw Dara’s skeptical expression and shook her head. “Do not let his stern grand wazir face fool you. He was a mud-splattered country boy when I met him, more accomplished at sneaking out to hunt for fire salamanders than reining in two restless Nahids.” She stared into the distance, her eyes dimming. “We weren’t permitted to go to Zariaspa as frequently when we were older, and I always missed him.”

“I suspect he felt the same,” Dara said carefully. He had seen the way Kaveh looked at Manizheh, and no one at camp had missed the fact that their visitor had yet to sleep in the tent they’d prepared for him. That had thrown Dara; clearly the prim grand wazir did have a hidden side. “I am surprised you didn’t bring him with us.”

“Absolutely not,” she said at once. “I don’t want the ifrit to know anything more than necessary about him.”

Dara frowned at the fierceness in her voice. “Why not?”

“Would you die for my daughter, Darayavahoush?”

The question surprised him, and yet the answer was already leaving Dara’s lips. “Yes. Of course.”

Manizheh gave him a knowing look. “And yet, would you let her die for you? Suffer for you?”

She has already suffered for me. “Not if I could help it,” Dara said quietly.

“Precisely. Affection is a weakness for people like us, a thing to be concealed from those who would harm us. A threat