Or perhaps she is something entirely different.
Either way, Dara intended to tread carefully. He would greet her, but in his people’s way. “May the fires burn brightly for you, my lady,” he said, bringing his fingers together in blessing.
“And for you,” Zaynab replied, clearly taking her own moment to assess him in return. If she was frightened, and she should have been, she hid it well.
“I would speak with you alone.” Dara was thankful for the priest’s help in setting up the meeting, but this was not a conversation he wanted Kartir judging or the rude warrior interrupting.
“Absolutely not,” Aqisa cut in. “Do you think we don’t know how badly your Nahid wants her?”
“If I was going to take her, I would have already.” Indeed, Dara was becoming more and more tempted to try. “A thing you must have known when you agreed to meet.”
Zaynab hadn’t taken her eyes off him. “Aqisa, stay here.” When the other woman protested, she held up a hand. “Please.” She inclined her head toward the forest. “A walk?”
Dara bowed and then started off. He set a small globe of conjured flames to dance overhead, illuminating a narrow black trail.
Zaynab followed him, and the forest soon swallowed them up. Once it did, her breath came faster, and this time Dara suspected it was due to fear rather than being winded by a stroll.
Be polite, he told himself. But careful. Zaynab had grown up politicking in the palace, and Dara had already learned the hard way from Muntadhir that he was no match in that realm. But neither threats nor diplomacy had worked thus far, so Dara needed to find another way if they were to avoid the catastrophe he feared was looming ahead.
“I was not certain you would come,” he began, his steps silent on the soft earth. “Then again, bravery is one of the few attributes I have never been able to begrudge Geziris.”
“Kartir gave me his word you meant me no harm. I trust him. He seems an honest man of God.”
“How does a Qahtani princess come to know a Daeva cleric?”
“I met him in your Temple,” Zaynab explained, glancing over when Dara’s face lit in surprise. “Alizayd and I both.”
Dara frowned. “But djinn are not permitted there.”
“We visited as Nahri’s guests. We went to show our support when she announced she’d be opening her hospital to shafit.” Bitterness laced into Zaynab’s voice. “She and Ali were trying something different, a small way to make peace before you destroyed any hope of that in our time.”
“That peace was ended by the shafit attack on the Navasatem parade as much as it was by our conquest.”
“I’m sure it’s comforting for you to believe that. What a relief after you’d already plotted the slaughter of my people to learn you had a new justification to cling to.”
The sharp words cut closer than he liked, and Dara found himself automatically reaching for his usual defense. “We needed no further justification. This is a Daeva city. It should be ruled by Daevas.”
“Strange that, for a Daeva city, Anahid herself set quarters aside for each of the six tribes and made the only requirement for entry a mere drop of magical blood. It’s almost as though she meant this to be a home for all and it’s the rest of you who’ve twisted her legacy.”
Dara regarded her. “With your tongue, you and Nahri must have either been the closest of companions or utter enemies.”
Zaynab looked away. “I used to think the worst of her. I feared her—I’d heard stories about Manizheh growing up, and I didn’t like how close her daughter was getting to my brothers. I thought Nahri plotted our destruction.”
“Perhaps she did.”
“Nahri wanted her people to survive. To thrive. If we needed to be destroyed for that, I think she’d have done it, but it didn’t seem like vengeance was first in her mind.” Zaynab glanced at him. “But I take it you’re not sneaking out on Manizheh to discuss her daughter?”
Traitor, the voice whispered again. “No,” Dara replied, not certain if he was answering Zaynab or his own doubts.
The princess stopped, gazing at him, the night song of insects filling the silence between them. The floating globe of flames did little to light up the thick darkness behind her, the silver of the trees standing against the soft black like stars in a vast, impenetrable sky.
Whatever she saw must have alarmed her. “Is it Muntadhir?” she asked in a whisper, fear filling her eyes.
“Muntadhir is alive for now. But she plans to kill him. To kill you and make him watch. Muntadhir plotted with some of the Daeva nobles to overthrow her. Kaveh was killed during the attempt and she blames your brother.”
The mention of the coup attempt triggered no surprise in her expression—she clearly had her own sources. “Kaveh deserved it.”
“Kaveh was torn apart by a mob in the street, and Manizheh is out for blood. We made a good faith effort toward your brother and his allies and were rewarded with betrayal. There will not be another.” Dara steadied his voice. “Muntadhir is going to die, but you don’t need to. He wouldn’t want you to. This doesn’t need to end in more violence, princess. Surrender. Convince your people to lay down their arms and open their gates.”
“That’s your message?” Zaynab was already shaking her head. “No.”
“You would live,” Dara said, struggling to stay calm. He wanted to shake her, to shake them all. “On my honor, I swear it. I will see you returned to your mother in Ta Ntry and let the rest of your tribe go back to Am Gezira.”
“And those of us who don’t live in Am Gezira?” She narrowed her eyes. “How can you not see that this city doesn’t belong to you alone? There are thousands of djinn and shafit who call Daevabad home, who’ve only known Daevabad, who don’t want to leave Daevabad. What happens to them?”
“They do what my people did for centuries and live
