The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,89

clamped on his shoulder, fishing hooks snarled in his skin. Nahri had thought him already dead, and she’d been so panicked that she and Dara were about to follow that she’d given little thought to what had happened to him. The stories about “Alizayd the Afshin-slayer” gallivanting across Am Gezira certainly made it sound like he was fine. And Nahri hadn’t seen him again after the boat.

But Nisreen had. She’d treated Ali … and she’d never said anything about this.

Nahri stepped away from the bed, beckoning for Lubayd to follow as she passed. “We should give the king and queen a moment with him.”

Hatset and Ghassan were standing on opposite sides of the pavilion outside her room, neither one looking at the other. Zaynab and Muntadhir were sitting on the bench between them, Muntadhir holding one of his sister’s hands.

“Is he all right?” Hatset’s voice shook slightly.

“For now,” Nahri answered. “I’ve stopped the bleeding and there’s no trace of the poison left. That I can detect,” she clarified.

Ghassan looked as though he’d aged a half-century. “Do you know what it was?”

“No,” she said flatly. This wasn’t an answer she could risk massaging. “I have no idea what that was. I’ve never seen or read of anything like that.” She hesitated, remembering the fleeing cupbearer—and the thrown dagger that had interrupted that flight. “I don’t suppose his cupbearer …”

The king shook his head, grim. “Dead before he could be questioned. One of Alizayd’s companions acted a bit too rashly.”

“I daresay those companions and their rashness are probably the only reason our son is still alive.” Hatset’s voice was sharper that Nahri had ever heard it.

Muntadhir rose to his feet. “So he’ll live?”

Nahri forced herself to meet her husband’s eyes, not missing the tangle of emotion in them. “He’ll survive this.”

“All right.” Muntadhir’s voice was low and troubled enough that Nahri saw Hatset narrow her eyes at him. He didn’t seem to notice, instead turning abruptly away and disappearing down the steps that led to the garden.

Zaynab hurried after him. “Dhiru …”

Ghassan sighed, watching them for a moment before turning back to Nahri. “May we see him?”

“Yes. I need to prepare a tonic for his throat. But don’t wake him. He lost a lot of blood. I don’t even think he should be moved. Let him stay here for at least a few days.”

The king nodded, heading toward her room. But Hatset caught Nahri’s wrist.

“Do you truly know nothing about this poison?” she asked. “Nothing in your mother’s old notes?”

“We’re healers, not assassins,” Nahri shot back. “And I’d be a fool to get involved with anything like this.”

“I’m not accusing you,” Hatset said, a little of the edge leaving her voice. “I just want to make sure if you think of anything—suspect anything—you come to me, Banu Nahida.” Her expression grew intent. “I am not my husband,” she added softly. “I reward loyalty—I don’t terrorize people into it. And I’ll not forget what you did for my son tonight.”

She let go of Nahri’s wrist, following Ghassan without another word. Her mind spinning, Nahri continued on to the infirmary.

Nisreen was already at work on the tonic, transferring a spoonful of bright orange, freshly ground salamander skin from a stone mortar into a honey-colored potion simmering in a glass flask suspended over an open flame. A puff of smoke burst from the flask and then the mixture turned crimson, uncomfortably close to the color of human blood.

“I started without you,” Nisreen called over her shoulder. “I figured you could use the help. It just needs another moment or two to simmer.”

Nahri’s stomach tightened. Reliable Nisreen, always two steps ahead of what Nahri needed. Her mentor and closest confidante.

The only person left in Daevabad that she thought she could trust.

She joined her, pressing her hands against the worktable and fighting the emotion bubbling up inside her. “You lied to me,” Nahri said quietly.

Nisreen glanced up, looking taken aback. “What?”

“You lied to me about Ali. After Dara’s de—after that night on the boat.” Her voice was unsteady. “You said Ali was fine. You said he had scratches.” She gave Nisreen an incredulous stare. “There’s not a patch of skin on him bigger than my palm that isn’t scarred.”

Nisreen stiffened. “You’ll forgive me not thinking much of his wounds when Dara and a dozen other Daevas lay dead, and Ghassan was contemplating executing you.”

Nahri shook her head. “You should have told me. You dismissed me when I tried to talk about that night, you had me doubting