Do it. Now! It wasn’t the plan, but Dara was at her mercy for a moment. His monsters were about to kill Mishmish. She had no choice.
Nahri drew the peri’s dagger.
Dara’s bright eyes went wide, locking on the icy blade. The roots holding him were already smoldering, cracking as new ones raced to replace them in a race Nahri knew she would eventually lose.
He’d saved her life in a Cairo cemetery. He’d jested and grinned and stolen her heart as they flew across the world on a journey plucked from a fable. He loved her.
She was shaking. “Let my shedu go.”
Dara thrashed against the tightening vegetation. “I cannot disobey Banu Manizheh.”
“Stop saying that!” Nahri gripped the dagger, the handle so cold it hurt. “Call off those beasts, or I’ll kill you!”
He met her gaze. The emerald eyes that had once terrified her. The ones she’d watched crinkle when he smiled and grow soft with longing in a cave above the Gozan. The eyes of perhaps the first person she’d ever trusted in her life.
Dara looked at her—and then a dozen more conjured beasts rose from the smoke to surround Mishmish.
Nahri choked. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I cannot disobey her,” Dara repeated, tortured begging in his voice. “I cannot speak against her. Do you understand? Nahri, I need you to understand!”
Mishmish screeched in pain.
You made a deal. He made a choice.
Nahri closed the space between them and raised the dagger.
There was a crack of thunder, and then lightning burst before her eyes, striking the nearest tree, a towering cypress. Heat seared her face, the tree trunk splitting …
Nahri threw herself across Dara, calling on her magic as the cypress crashed to the ground. It turned to ash before it crushed her, falling like snow upon them both.
And in the few seconds she took to protect him, Dara tore himself free of the roots.
He knocked the dagger from Nahri’s hand, sending it flying into the undergrowth. Then he grabbed her by the collar and lifted her to her feet.
Briefly blinded by the burst of light and the smoke from the burning tree, Nahri blinked, trying to clear her vision. She expected to see the mocking grins of ifrit before her, their fiery eyes bright with heartless amusement. They were the ones who used blood magic to travel upon bolts of lightning, after all.
It wasn’t the ifrit.
Manizheh smiled gently. “Daughter,” she greeted Nahri. “You’ve returned home.”
MANIZHEH LOOKED LIKE THE QUEEN SHE WAS, DRESSED in a dark silver gown dashed through with crimson insets and embroidered with rubies and pale opals. Ink-dark gloves covered her hands, but her face was unveiled, a copper-colored chador flowing over her long black braid like liquid metal. The color took Nahri aback, the allusion to the vapor Manizheh had used to kill the Geziris so bold that Nahri at first thought it had to be a mistake.
But she suspected Manizheh was not the kind to make such mistakes. It was a reminder.
No, it was a point of pride.
Manizheh’s gaze was calm and very nearly warm as it moved from a brawling Mishmish to Dara holding Nahri by the collar. It dropped to linger on the seal ring glittering from her daughter’s hand before finally rising, her black eyes settling on Nahri’s face. She’d swear her mother looked almost impressed.
“I must admit, this was not how I saw you returning.” Manizheh returned her glance to Mishmish. “Though if you’ve exchanged Ghassan’s son for a shedu, I’d say you made a good trade. Dara, would you call off your beasts? I’d rather not have the first shedu to visit Daevabad in millennia be savaged. You can let her go as well.”
Dara dropped Nahri to the ground. In the same instant, the smoky monsters surrounding Mishmish fell apart, smoldering embers showering the grass. Nahri lunged for the bushes in which he’d tossed the dagger, but Dara was faster, snatching up the peri’s blade before dutifully crossing to Manizheh’s side.
“You wished her disarmed,” he murmured, his voice again uncharacteristically muted. He handed over the peri’s dagger. “This was all I saw.”
Manizheh examined the blade, and Nahri watched her shiver as she ran her fingers down the icy length. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“No.”
She glanced up, eyeing him carefully. “Tell me the truth, Afshin.”
“No.” The word seemed to tear itself from Dara’s mouth. “I know nothing about a blade like that.”
“A shedu and a dagger as cold as ice.” Manizheh turned back to Nahri. “Tell me, dear daughter, where did you ever come upon such things?”
Nahri brushed herself off, contemplating tackling Manizheh for the blade. “Luck.”
“I doubt that very much. Another lie. Two you’ve told me now.” Manizheh tilted her head. “But then you’ve always been good at that, haven’t you? A thief, Dara tells me. Some sort of two-bit criminal.”
Dara told her I was a thief. Betrayal resounded in her, but Nahri glared back. “I wasn’t the only liar that night. A shafit couldn’t take the seal without being killed?” She raised her hand, summoning a pair of flames and letting them dance through her fingers and around the ring. “Interesting.”
“And yet despite it being on your hand and returned to Daevabad, our magic is still broken. A coincidence, I’m sure.” Manizheh’s gaze turned more appraising. “Did you kill Alizayd for it?”
Nahri had known in advance that was not a lie she’d be able to sell. “No. I removed it from his heart and healed him with my own hands. He is with the marid now, beyond your grasp.”
“Is he?” If her mother was surprised, it didn’t register. “A shame. Had you killed him, I might be more inclined to welcome you back.”
“I’m not interested in your welcome. I came back because I received
