The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,78

beside him. “I’m sorry,” she rushed to say when Hatset threw her an exasperated glare. “I mean … did you think his personality would improve out there?”

“Yes,” Hatset replied sharply. “I’d hope after being sent to Am Gezira to die, he’d be sharper. Your appearance shapes your public image, Alizayd, and wandering around Daevabad in bloody rags looking like a lost sheep is not particularly impressive.”

A little offended, Ali retorted, “Is that what you’re doing with that poor family, then? Dressing them up, parading them around in order to shape your image?”

Hatset narrowed her eyes. “What are their names?”

“What?”

“Their names. What are the names of the people you put a target on?” She pressed on when Ali flustered. “You don’t know, do you? Then I’ll tell you. The woman is Mariam, a shafit from Sumatra. Her husband is Ashok and their daughter is Manat. Despite the city’s problems, they’ve been managing fine. So well, in fact, that Ashok’s success in running a food stall attracted the jealousy of one of their neighbors, who gave them up to that foul trader’s roaming goons. But Ashok likes cooking, so I’ve gotten him a position in the palace kitchens and rooms where he may live with his wife while she attends me in the harem and her daughter takes lessons with the other children.”

Ali was chastened, but not enough to be unsuspicious. “And why would you do such a thing?”

“Someone needed to fix my son’s mistake.” When Ali flushed, she continued, “I’m also a believer, and it is a great sin to abuse the shafit. Trust me when I say I find what’s happening in Daevabad to be as abhorrent as you do.”

“My ‘cousin’ Musa said a very similar thing before sabotaging my village’s well in an effort to force his cargo upon me,” Ali replied. “I take it you were behind that as well?”

There was a moment of silence, the two women exchanging a look before Zaynab spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically abashed. “That … that might have been my idea.” When Ali spun on her, she gave him a helpless look. “I was worried you would never come back! My messengers said it seemed like you were settling in!”

“I was! It was nice.” Ali couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He pressed his hands against his knees, fighting his temper. The plot might have been Zaynab’s, but this was a game his mother had started. “But maybe if we’re going to speak so plainly we can talk about the reason I was sent to Am Gezira in the first place.”

His mother actually smiled. It was a little unnerving, seeing that sharp delighted grin he’d been told more than once that he shared. The years had not aged Hatset like they had his father. She was every inch the queen, and she straightened up as if he’d issued her a challenge, adjusting her shayla like it was battle armor.

“Zaynab, my love …,” she started slowly, not taking her eyes from Ali. A prickle of fear danced over the nape of his neck. “Would you mind leaving us?”

His sister glanced between them, looking alarmed. “Maybe I should stay.”

“You should go.” His mother’s careful smile didn’t waver as she took a seat on the opposite couch, but her voice had an authoritative edge. “Your brother clearly has some things he’d like to say to me.”

Zaynab sighed and stood. “Good luck, akhi.” She squeezed his shoulder again and was gone.

“Alu,” Hatset said, in a tone that made Ali fairly certain he was about to be slapped again, “I know you’re not insinuating that the woman who carried and birthed you, enormous potato head and all, was involved in that idiotic conspiracy with the Tanzeem.”

Ali swallowed. “Abba said they had Ayaanle backers,” he said, defending himself. “That one of them was your cousin—”

“Indeed, one of them was. Was,” his mother repeated, the deadly intent clear in her voice. “I don’t deal lightly with those who risk the lives of the ones I love. And on some half-baked scheme at that.” She rolled her eyes. “A revolution. How unnecessarily bloody.”

“You sound more annoyed by the method than by the idea of treason.”

“And?” Hatset picked up a fragrant cup of tea from a nearby table, taking a sip. “You’re looking at the wrong person if you expect me to defend your father’s rule. He’s been going astray for years. You clearly agreed with that assessment if you were willing to join the Tanzeem.”

He winced, her words finding their