And oh, God, did it look like he’d just bribed his private entry into Nahri’s bedroom?
The door opened while Ali’s mouth was still open in indecision. Jamshid stared back at him, a serving knife poorly concealed behind his back.
“May the fires burn brightly for you!” Ali said in Divasti, in a voice he instantly knew was too loud, his accent atrocious.
Jamshid’s hostile expression didn’t waver.
Ali tried again. “I wanted to come by and make sure your accommodations were suitable. How did you sleep? The bed, it was comfortable?”
Now Jamshid’s expression shifted to one of faint contempt and incredulity. “Nahri, your …” Jamshid’s gaze traveled up and down Ali with what seemed like every ounce of new Nahid imperiousness he possessed. “… companion is here.”
“Yes, I heard.” The door was pulled from Jamshid’s hand to reveal Nahri.
Ali’s heart did an extremely unhelpful dance, as all the confidence he’d gathered this morning vanished. Nahri was dressed in a bold block-patterned tunic the color of a stormy sea and striped pants. He’d caught her in the middle of braiding her hair, and her sleeve had ridden up, revealing the delicate expanse of her inner wrist.
God forgive him, he wanted to touch her. Instead, Ali instantly dropped his gaze. “Sabah el-hayr,” he greeted her, fighting the embarrassed heat rising in his cheeks.
“Sabah el-noor,” she replied. “I wondered if I would see you this morning.”
Ali glanced up in surprise at her tone. “Should I have not come?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” But Nahri looked as though there was something she wasn’t saying. “Come. Take some tea with us.”
Uneasy, Ali stepped inside the room, not unaware of Jamshid’s still-disgruntled expression. “Is everything all right?” he asked her.
“Of course.” But the Nahri who Ali knew would not say “of course” to a question like that in their circumstances. She would have launched into a sarcastic litany of grievances. “Have you spoken to your mother this morning?” she asked.
His mother? Ali’s suspicions instantly blossomed. “No, why? Did she say something to you?”
Nahri’s hand paused on the curtain she was pulling back. In the pale morning light, she suddenly looked very tired. “No. She came by last night to make sure we were settled in, but that was it.”
“Are you sure that was it?”
“Yes.” She offered a tight smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Come.”
With every additional moment of strained politeness, Ali was growing more convinced something was wrong. But knowing how guarded Nahri could be, he held his tongue, simply following her to a small balcony overlooking the forest. Cushions surrounded a low table set with fruit, pastries, tea, and juice.
Nahri motioned for him to sit, and Ali did. Then, more like herself, she snapped her fingers at her brother. “Oh no, Jamshid. Don’t you slink off. You’re joining us too.” She fell onto one of the cushions and reached for a cup of tea. “You know, for all the lecturing I’ve heard about how emotional women supposedly are, we have nothing on the men I’ve known.”
Jamshid sat, glowering.
Ali fidgeted for a moment and then decided to just let it out.
“I’m sorry.” He met the other man’s gaze. “I’m so sorry for that night, Jamshid. I was worried about getting caught, about my father learning the assassin was shafit and doing something awful, but that doesn’t excuse what I did to you. I can’t take it back, and I understand if you don’t trust me. I also know how rudely I once spoke of your faith and your people; I know that even before Nahri arrived in Daevabad, your tribe was right to look upon me with suspicion. But I’m sorry.”
There was a moment of silence, tension rising in the air, and then Jamshid spoke, his eyes not leaving Ali’s. “And what of Muntadhir and me?”
Muntadhir. His brother’s name was like a wound; Ali feared it would never stop hurting. In his mind’s eye, he saw his grinning older brother, always so charming, and wondered just how much it had hurt to hold that facade. It broke Ali’s heart that he’d had to.
“Muntadhir saved my life,” he said, noticing Nahri drop her gaze. “I will regret to the end of my days how we spent our last months together, and that my behavior meant he had to hide so much from me. But I am incredibly grateful he had someone like you at his side with whom he could share some happiness.”
At that, he finally saw Jamshid’s cool visage crack. “You have a politician’s gilded tongue,” Jamshid replied, but there was no heat in the insult as he quickly wiped his eyes. “I still don’t like you. I’m only agreeing to work with you because Nahri has asked. You have a very long way to go to earn my trust.”
“I pray I can one day,” Ali said sincerely, pouring a cup of tea. “Perhaps this can be a new beginning for us.”
Something quirked in Jamshid’s expression, but there was a knock at the door, and then a steward entered.
“The queen would like to see you, my prince. The Banu Nahida and Baga Nahid as well.”
God, did his mother have his every move watched? Ali had been here only minutes. “We’ll be right there,” he said with a resigned sigh.
Nahri rose to her feet. “Let me get my cloak.”
Jamshid was pouring a drink. He pushed the cup toward Ali. “Tamarind juice before we leave,” he said politely. “I know how fond you are of it.”
Ali scowled. “I was fond of it before someone tried to poison …” He trailed off, noting the challenge in Jamshid’s eyes. “Oh, you bas—”
Jamshid tsked, nodding at
