The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy, #2)

by S.A. Chakraborty

When he had arrived in the glen, her shroud had been drenched in blood, her skin carved and scored with names written in Tukharistani script. It was a sight that had made him wild; he’d torn the glen apart with his bare hands again and again until he finally collapsed in her small arms.

Nahri smiled beneath her veil, pleasantly surprised by his defense. Despite being married now for nearly five years, Muntadhir rarely defended her against his family.

“You know there’s no truth to those idiotic rumors,” Ali said. “The Banu Nahida and I were merely friends, and she is married to my brother.” Lubayd shrugged. “I find the idiotic rumors enjoyable. Can you blame people for spinning exciting tales out of what happened to all of you?” His voice took on a dramatic edge. “A mysterious Nahid beauty locked away in the palace, an evil Afshin set to ruin her, an irritable prince exiled to the land of his forefathers . . .”

“You have no shame; do you know that?” But the edge was gone from her voice. Muntadhir was damnably good at this. His fingers were tracing delicate patterns on the skin of her wrist, his eyes dancing with mirth. “You don’t complain about that when you do find your way into my bed.” Heat flooded her cheeks—not all of it from embarrassment. “You’ve slept with half of Daevabad. I’d hope that would teach you some skill.”

“If you could see the destruction you portend, Darayavahoush e-Afshin, you would throw yourself in the sea.”

“I saved you.” She let out a high, humorless laugh. “I healed you with my own hands. More than once, even. And in return, you said nothing as we got on that boat, though you knew your father’s men would be waiting. My God, I even offered to let you come with us! To escape your father’s wrath, to escape this cage and see the rest of the world.” She hugged her arms around herself, pulling her chador close as if to put a wall between them. “You should be proud, Ali. Not many people can outwit me, but you? You had me believing you were my friend until the very end.”

“You don’t stop fighting a war just because you’re losing battles, Alizayd. You change tactics. Surely, that’s a lesson you learned in the Citadel.”

“You are far too clever to believe the Ayaanle are the only reason for Daevabad’s financial problems. We are a scapegoat; a slight diminishment in taxes does not do the damage I know you’ve seen. Keeping a third of the population in slavery and squalor does. Oppressing another third to the point where they self-segregate does.” Her tone grew intent. “People do not thrive under tyrants, Alizayd; they do not come up with innovations when they’re busy trying to stay alive, or offer creative ideas when error is punished by the hooves of a karkadann.”

Nahri was shaking as she entered her room. I should have been more aggressive in my dowry demands, she suddenly thought. Because she had not been paid enough to marry into this family.

Fear and hate ruled the city—built up by centuries of spilled blood and the resulting grievances. It was a place where everyone was so busy trying to survive and ensure their loved ones survived that there was no room to build new trust.

“I’ve had enough of men hurting me because they were upset.” Her voice was hard, so much so that Muntadhir looked startled. But Nahri didn’t care. She rose to her feet, placing her chador over her head. “I won’t have it from the man I call my husband. Not anymore.”

“The work is what matters. You fix what you can and keep yourself whole enough to move on to the next patient.”

Vizaresh chuckled. “Ah, Darayavahoush, there are always people to save. And always cunning men and women around who find a way to take advantage of that duty and harness it into power.

“Fine, I will tell you why Suleiman cursed us. It was not for playing with humans—it was because we warred with the marid over those humans.”

“I’m tired of everyone in this city feeding on vengeance. I’m tired of teaching our children to hate and fear other children because their parents are our enemies. And I’m sick and tired of acting like the only way to save our people is to cut down all who might oppose us, as if our enemies won’t return the favor the instant power shifts.”

Lubayd hushed him. “It’s okay, just hold on. We’re going to get you to that Nahid of yours, and you’ll be fine.” He tucked Ali’s zulfiqar back in his belt, and a smile cracked across his face, doing little to erase the worry in his eyes. “Don’t you be letting this—” A jarring, crunching sound stole Lubayd’s words. His friend’s expression froze and then his body jerked slightly as the crunch came again, a terrible sucking noise. Lubayd opened his mouth as if to speak.

NOOOO😭😭😭😭😭

She was wrong. She doesn’t understand. This mission had to be right, it had to succeed. Everything Dara had done for his people, from Qui-zi through tonight’s attack, could not be for nothing.

Bitch it's not WORTH IT

“Of course it is,” Nahri said airily, pulling the second ring—Suleiman’s ring—from her pocket. “Who would lie to their mother?” She shoved the ring onto one of Ali’s fingers. Ali tried to jerk free, but Nahri was fast. Her heart gave a single lurch of regret, and then—just as Manizheh glanced up—she felt the ancient band vanish beneath her fingers. Shocked betrayal blossomed in her mother’s eyes—ah, so Manizheh had emotions after all. But Nahri was not waiting for a response. She grabbed Ali’s hand and jumped off the wall.