The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,76

I wasn’t thinking and …” Zaynab yelped, and Ali abruptly released her hands, realizing he’d been squeezing them. “Sorry,” he whispered again.

Zaynab was staring at him, worried alarm replacing the anger in her face as her eyes swept his bloody face and filthy robe. She picked up his hand, running her thumb over his ragged fingernails.

Ali flushed, embarrassed at their state. “I’m trying to stop biting them. It’s a nervous tic.”

“A nervous tic,” she repeated. Her voice was trembling now. “You look terrible, akhi.” One of her hands lifted to his cheek, touching the ruined flesh where Suleiman’s scar had been carved.

Ali attempted and failed to force a weak smile. “Am Gezira wasn’t as welcoming as I’d hoped.”

Zaynab flinched. “I thought I’d never see you again. Every time I had a messenger, I feared they were coming to say that you … that you …” She seemed unable to finish the words, tears brimming in her eyes.

Ali pulled her into a hug. Zaynab clutched him, letting out a choked sob.

“I was so worried about you,” she wept. “I’m sorry, Ali. I begged him. I begged Abba every day. If I’d been able to convince him …”

“Oh, Zaynab, none of this is your fault.” Ali held his sister close. “How could you think that? You are a blessing; your letters and supplies … you have no idea how much I needed them. And I’m okay.” He pulled back to look at her. “Things were getting better there. And I’m here now, alive and already irritating you.” He managed a small smile this time.

She shook her head. “Things aren’t okay, Ali. Amma … she’s so angry.”

Ali rolled his eyes “I haven’t been back that long. How mad could she be?”

“She’s not angry at you,” Zaynab retorted. “Well … she is, but that’s not what I’m talking about. She’s angry at Abba. She came back to Daevabad in a rage when she learned what happened to you. She told Abba that she was going to drive him into debt.”

Ali could only imagine how that conversation had gone. “We’ll talk to her,” he assured her. “I’ll find a way to fix things. And forget all that for now. Tell me how you are.” He didn’t imagine any of this was easy for Zaynab, being the only one of them still on speaking terms with all of her squabbling relatives.

Zaynab’s composure cracked for a moment, but then a serene smile lit her face. “Everything’s fine,” she said smoothly. “God be praised.”

Ali didn’t believe that for a moment. “Zaynab …”

“Truly,” she insisted, though a little of the spark had left her eyes. “You know me … the spoiled princess without a care.”

Ali shook his head. “You’re not that.” He grinned. “Well, perhaps a little bit of the first part.” He ducked when she tried to swat him.

“I hope you guard your tongue better when you’re in front of Amma,” Zaynab warned. “She didn’t think highly of your dashing back to the Citadel and had some rather choice words to say about the fate that befalls ungrateful sons.”

Ali cleared his throat. “Anything … specific?” he asked, repressing a shiver.

Zaynab smiled sweetly. “I hope you’ve been saying your prayers, little brother.”

QUEEN HATSET’S SPRAWLING APARTMENTS WERE LOCATED on one of the highest levels of the palatial ziggurat, and Ali could not help but admire the view as they climbed the stairs. The city looked like a toy below, a sprawl of miniature buildings and scurrying ant-size inhabitants.

They ducked through the intricately carved teak door that led to his mother’s pavilion, and Ali held his breath. Designed to mimic the enchantments of her beloved homeland, the pavilion first appeared to be the ruins of a once magnificent coral castle, like the many human ones dotting the coast of Ta Ntry. But then with a teasing swirl of smoke and magic, it shimmered back to its glory before his eyes: a lush salon of gem-studded coral archways, lined with planters of rich marsh grasses, emerald palms, and Nile lilies. The pavilion had been a marriage gift from Ghassan, meant to ease the homesickness of his new Ayaanle bride—a gesture that spoke to a kinder version of his father than Ali had known. The air smelled of myrrh, and the sounds of a lute and laughter drifted from behind gently billowing purple and gold linen curtains.

Familiar laughter. Ali steeled himself as they passed the curtain. But whatever he was expecting … the scene before him was certainly not it.

Queen Hatset sat on