The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,75

more times than he could count to press his hands against the cool stone, sensing the water on the other side. When he closed his eyes, the whispers he’d heard on the ferry rushed back: an incomprehensible buzz that made his heart pound with an urgency he didn’t understand. His marid abilities felt closer—wilder—than they had in years, as though with a single snap of his fingers, he could fill the Citadel’s courtyard with a blanket of fog.

None of which he could tell Wajed. Or frankly, anyone at all. “It’s nothing,” Ali insisted. “I’m just tired.”

Wajed eyed him. “Is this about your family?” When Ali grimaced, sympathy flooded the Qaid’s face. “You didn’t even give the palace a day, Ali. You should go home and try to talk to them.”

“I am home,” Ali replied. “My father wanted me raised in the Citadel, didn’t he?” As he spoke, his gaze caught a pair of guards heading out on duty. Both wore uniforms that had been heavily patched, and only one of them had a zulfiqar.

He shook his head, thinking of Muntadhir’s jewelry and the sumptuous platter of pastries. It was clear he wasn’t alone in noticing the discrepancy: he’d overheard plenty of grumbling comments since arriving at the Citadel. But while Ali suspected some of Daevabad’s economic woes could be traced to the Ayaanles’ quiet interfering—Musa had implied as much—he doubted his fellow soldiers knew to look so far. They’d only seen Daevabad’s feasting nobles and complacent palace denizens. They certainly didn’t seem to blame him; Ali had been warmly welcomed back with only a few teasing remarks about the reduced meals of lentils and bread he now shared with them.

Commotion at the main gate caught his attention, and Ali glanced over to see several soldiers scurrying toward the entrance … and then promptly backing away in a clumsy mob, a few men tripping over their feet as they dropped their gazes to the ground.

A single woman strode in. Tall, and with a willowy grace Ali recognized immediately, she wore an abaya the color of midnight, embroidered with clusters of diamonds that shone like stars. A long silver shayla had been drawn across her face, concealing all but her gray-gold eyes.

Angry gray-gold eyes. They locked on Ali’s face, and then she lifted her hand, gold bangles and pearl rings shimmering in the sunlight, to make a single rude beckoning motion before she abruptly turned around, marching straight back out.

Wajed looked at him. “Was that your sister?” Concern filled his voice. “I hope everything is well. She almost never leaves the palace.”

Ali cleared his throat. “I … I may have come to the Citadel without stopping to see her and my mother.”

Ali hadn’t known Daevabad’s Qaid—a massively built man who wore two centuries of war scars with pride—could go so pale. “You haven’t gone to see your mother?” He drew back as if to physically distance himself from what was about to happen to Ali. “You better not tell her I let you stay here.”

“Traitor.” Ali scowled but couldn’t deny the trickle of fear he felt as he moved to follow his sister.

Zaynab was already seated in the litter by the time he climbed inside. He pulled the curtain closed. “Ukhti, you really didn’t—”

His sister slapped him across the face.

“You ungrateful ass,” she seethed, yanking her shayla away from her face. “Five years I spend trying to save your life and you can’t be bothered to come see me? Then when I finally track you down, you think to greet me with a lecture on propriety?” She raised her hand again—a fist this time. “You self-righteous—”

Ali ducked her fist and then reached out and gripped her shoulders. “That’s not what this is, Zaynab! I swear!” He let her go.

“Then what is it, brat?” Her eyes narrowed in hurt. “Because I’ve half a mind to order my bearers to toss you in a trash pit!”

“I didn’t want to get you in trouble,” Ali rushed on. He reached for her hands. “I owe you my life, Zaynab. And Muntadhir said—”

“Muntadhir said what?” Zaynab interrupted. Her expression had softened, but anger still simmered in her voice. “Did you care to ask my opinion? Think for a moment that maybe I was perfectly capable of making a decision without my older brother’s permission?”

“No,” Ali confessed. All he’d been thinking about was getting away from the palace before he hurt someone else. And of course, in doing so, he had hurt someone else. “I’m sorry. I panicked.