It should have been a lovely morning. They’d gathered at a pavilion high upon the palace wall, the same place Ali and Nahri had once stargazed. The sun was warm, and there was not a cloud in the sky, the lake stretching like a cool glass mirror below them.
A plush embroidered rug deeper than Nahri’s hand and large enough to sit fifty had been laid out under painted silk awnings and spread with a sumptuous feast. Every fruit one might imagine lay spread before them, from slivers of golden mango and bright persimmon to gleaming silver cherries that made a distinctly metallic crunch when chewed and trembling crimson custard apples whose similarity to a beating heart made Nahri shudder. Delicate pastries of creamed honey, sweetened cheese, and roasted nuts shared space between bowls of yoghurt strained and shaped into herb-brushed balls and platters of spiced semolina porridge.
And even better, a dish of fried fava beans with onions, eggs, and country bread, an unexpected delight indicating that the quiet old Egyptian cook who served in the palace kitchens had a hand in the morning’s meal. In the earliest and darkest months after Dara’s death, Nahri had noticed a number of dishes from her old home making their way into her meals. Nothing fancy, but rather, the comfort fare and street food she most loved. During a bout of homesickness, Nahri had once tried to find the cook, a meeting that hadn’t gone well. The man had burst into tears when she smilingly introduced herself, his fellows in the kitchen later telling her that he rarely spoke and was considered slightly touched in the head. Nahri had dared not intrude upon him again, but he’d kept quietly preparing food for her, often slipping small tokens next to her dishes: a garland of jasmine, a reed folded to resemble a felucca, a carved wooden bangle. The gifts charmed her as much as they saddened her: reminders of the way Daevabad walled her off from a former countryman.
“Did Muntadhir tell you we found a troupe of conjurers, Abba?” Zaynab asked, pulling Nahri from her thoughts. The princess had been valiantly trying to make small talk with them all since they sat down, a task Nahri didn’t envy. Muntadhir was sitting across from her, so stiff he might have been embalmed, and Hatset was slapping Ali’s hand every time he reached for a dish without letting her try it first, because “your father’s tasters are clearly useless.” “They’re excellent,” Zaynab continued. “They summoned up a whole menagerie of birds that sang the loveliest of melodies. They’ll be perfect for Navasatem.”
“I hope they’ve signed a contract, then,” Ghassan said lightly. Oddly enough, the djinn king seemed contentedly amused by this barbed family breakfast. “The last few Eids, I’ve found the entertainers I’ve hired suddenly lured away to Ta Ntry by promises of fees that are mysteriously always twice the amount we’d agreed to.”
Hatset smiled, passing another loaded plate to Ali. “Alu-baba, enough with all those scrolls,” she chided, gesturing at the pile of papers next to Ali. “What work could you possibly already have?”
“I suspect those scrolls have to do with his reason for arranging all this,” Ghassan said knowingly, taking a sip of his coffee.
Muntadhir straightened up even further. “You didn’t tell me Alizayd arranged this.”
“I didn’t want you finding a reason not to attend.” Ghassan shrugged. “And waking before noon for once will not harm you.” He turned back to his youngest. “How are you feeling?”
“Fully recovered,” Ali said smoothly, touching his heart with a nod in Nahri’s direction. “A thing I owe entirely to the Banu Nahida.”
Ghassan’s attention turned to her. “And has the Banu Nahida made any progress in discovering more about the poison used?”
Nahri forced herself to meet his gaze. Ghassan was her captor, and she never forgot it—but right now, she needed him on her side. “Regretfully, no. Nisreen thinks it might have been something in his tamarind juice designed to react to the sugar in the sweets. The prince is known to favor the drink in place of wine.”
Muntadhir snorted. “I suppose that’s what you get for being so obnoxious about your beliefs.”
Ali’s eyes flashed. “And how very interesting, akhi, that it was always you who was loudest about mocking me for them.”
Hatset cut in. “Have you learned anything more about the poison?” she demanded, staring at Ghassan. “You told me you were having the kitchen staff questioned.”
“And I am,” Ghassan replied tersely. “Wajed is overseeing the investigation himself.”
The queen held her husband’s eye another moment, looking unimpressed, but then glanced at her son. “Why don’t you tell us why you’ve brought us here?”
Ali cleared his throat. “It’s not actually me alone. While I’ve been recovering, the Banu Nahida and I have been discussing working together on a very promising project. Her infirmary … it’s very crowded.”
He stopped as if this explained everything, and seeing confusion on their faces, Nahri swept in, silently cursing her partner. “I want to build a hospital,” she said plainly.
“We,” Ali muttered, tapping on his mountain of scrolls. “What?” he asked defensively when she gave him an annoyed look. “I didn’t fiddle with numbers all week just so you can cut me out.”
Muntadhir set his cup down so hard that the dark plum liquid inside sloshed out. It did not look like juice. “Of course you went to him. I try to talk sense into you, and your response is to race to your blockhead of a tutor the minute he comes riding back—”
“Should it make a difference,” Ghassan interrupted, with a look that silenced them all, “I would like to hear them out.” He turned to Nahri. “You want to build a hospital?”
Nahri nodded, trying to ignore the daggers Muntadhir was shooting at her from his eyes. “Well, not so much build a new one as restore an old one. I hear the complex my ancestors once used remains near the Citadel.”
Ghassan’s gaze was so calmly appraising it made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “And where, dear daughter, did you hear such a thing?”
Her heart skipped a beat; she had to tread carefully or some poor Daeva would suffer for it, of that she had no doubt. “A book,” she lied, trying to keep the strain from her voice. “And some rumors.”
Zaynab was blinking at her with barely concealed alarm, Muntadhir studying the rug as though it were the most fascinating one he’d ever seen. Nahri prayed they’d stay silent.
“A book,” Ghassan repeated. “And some rumors.”
“Indeed,” Nahri replied, rushing on as if she hadn’t noticed the suspicion in his voice. “The descriptions of the hospital in its heyday are extraordinary.” She casually picked up her teacup. “I’ve also heard a trio of djinn freed from ifrit slavery are living in the remains.”
“That’s quite a lot of information to glean from some rumors.”
Help came from a very unexpected direction. “Oh, stop menacing the poor girl, Ghassan,” Hatset interrupted. “She’s not wrong. I know about those former slaves as well.”
Nahri stared at her. “You do?”
Hatset nodded. “One of them is a kinsman of mine.” Nahri didn’t miss the quick dart of her eyes to Ali. “A brilliant scholar—but a deeply eccentric man. He refuses to return to Ta Ntry, so I keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t starve himself. I’ve met the two women there as well. The eldest, Razu, can spin some rather exciting tales of the hospital’s past. Their magic is quite formidable, and I suspect she and her partner would be happy to help restore the place.”
Nahri swallowed as the queen looked at her; there was far too much knowing in her eyes. But Nahri also suspected Hatset wouldn’t betray her—not with Ali at her side. “That’s my hope as well.”
Ghassan was studying his family with open suspicion, but he let it go, returning his attention to Nahri. “That sounds like an admirable fantasy, Banu Nahida, but even if you had a building, you’re barely able to keep up with your patients now. How could you possibly treat an entire hospital’s worth?”
Nahri was prepared for the question. Her mind had been turning since she’d left the Sens. Subha’s father had arrived alone in Daevabad with two centuries of medical knowledge and used it to train others. Surely, Nahri could do the same. “I’ll have help,” she explained. “I want to start teaching students.”
Genuine surprise lit the king’s face. “Students? I was under the impression most of the healing you do couldn’t be accomplished by someone without your blood.”
“A lot can’t,” Nahri admitted. “But many of the basics can. With proper training, I could shift some of my workload to others. We could see more people, and I could let them stay on to properly recover instead of booting them out of the infirmary as quickly as possible.”
Ghassan took a sip of his coffee. “And earn some acclaim from your tribe, no doubt, for recovering an institution once so important to the Daevas.”
“This isn’t about tribal politics or pride,” Nahri argued. “And I don’t intend to only teach Daevas; I’ll take students from any background if they’re bright and willing.”
“And between your duties in the infirmary now and teaching students, when exactly are you going to have time to oversee the rebuilding of a ruined, ancient hospital? Not to mention the cost … ah.” His eyes narrowed on Ali. “The ‘we.’ A preposterously expensive public works project. Little wonder you have involved yourself.”
“You did tell me to find something to do,” Ali replied, a petty edge in his voice. Nahri clenched her teacup, resisting the urge to hurl it at his head. If she could check her temper, so could he. “But it wouldn’t be preposterously expensive if handled correctly,” Ali continued, gesturing to the armful of scrolls he’d brought. “I’ve been running estimates with people at the Treasury, and we’ve devised numerous proposals.” He plucked up one of the fatter scrolls. “I know how important financials are, so I haven’t spared any details.”
Ghassan held up a hand. “Spare the details. We will be sitting here until Navasatem if I let you start talking about the specifics. I can have my own accountants check your proposals later.” He tilted his head. “I am, after all, quite aware of your cleverness when it comes to numbers.”
The words hung between them for a moment. Unwilling to let whatever drama swirled around her in-laws eclipse her hospital, Nahri spoke quickly. “I’m willing to offer a portion of my dowry as well, enough to cover the materials and room and board for an initial class of twenty students. And once we start seeing patients, we can charge those who can pay on a sliding scale.”
“I also thought the queen might assist me in meeting with the Ayaanle trade envoy,” Ali added. “Should Ta Ntry find a way to make restitutions for its unfortunate tax situation, we could use the revenue to fix a lot of things in Daevabad.”
Hatset raised her palms, smiling sweetly. “It can be difficult to predict financial matters.”
Ali returned her smile. “Not when they can be audited, Amma,” he said pleasantly.
Hatset drew up, looking taken aback, and Nahri saw a far more genuine smile spread across Ghassan’s face.
But it was not a pleasure that erased his skepticism. “And the staffing cost?” he asked. “However formidable their magic, a handful of freed djinn are not going to be able to build and maintain a complex of that size.”
Before Nahri could respond, Ali spoke up again. “I had been thinking in another direction.” He toyed with a length of prayer beads looped around his wrist. “I’d like to tear down the shafit … exchange … in the Grand Bazaar and reuse its materials, as well as free those being held there. I’ll offer them—and any shafit qualified and interested—employment in the hospital restoration.”
Nahri blinked, surprised but pleased at the suggestion. She wasn’t sure what exchange Ali was talking about—though the naked disdain in his voice made clear his opinion of it. But Subha’s accusations about Nahri’s complicity in the oppression of Daevabad’s shafit had struck deep. Nahri didn’t know much about the lives of a people she quietly belonged to, but this seemed like a good way to help some of them.
But Ghassan’s expression had darkened. “I thought you’d learned to be warier about getting involved with the shafit, Alizayd.”
“It’s not just him,” Muntadhir cut in. His gaze locked on hers. “And I suspect that’s not all they want. This has to do with that shafit physician you were so eager to track down, doesn’t it?” He turned back to his father. “She came to me with this weeks ago, talking about how she wanted to start working with shafit doctors and treating shafit patients.”
Shock fell across the pavilion, so thick she could almost feel it. Zaynab dropped her cup, the queen taking a sharp breath.
Nahri silently cursed; it wasn’t enough for Muntadhir to disagree, apparently. He also needed to undermine her by rudely letting slip a risky plan she’d wanted to be far more precise in proposing.
Ghassan recovered first. “You intend to heal shafit?”
Nahri answered honestly, though she loathed the words. “No. Not myself … not at first. We’d work and study alongside each other, the djinn using magic and the shafit using human techniques. I’m hoping it might prove a fresh start for the Daevas and the shafit, and that maybe, in the future, we’ll be able to cross those lines.”
Ghassan shook his head. “Your priests would never approve of such a thing. I am not certain I approve of such a thing. The first time a shafit doctor hurts a Daeva—or the reverse—people will be rioting in the streets.”
“Or they might learn to get along a bit better.” It was the queen, still looking slightly taken aback, though her words were encouraging. “It is the Banu Nahida who is proposing this project. The Daevas are obliged to obey her, are they not?” She shrugged lightly, as though the conversation hadn’t turned fraught. “It is her responsibility and her risk if she wants to provoke them.”
“Your support is appreciated,” Nahri replied, checking her sarcasm. “I figured we could start the rebuilding effort first—of that I am certain my people would approve. I will go to the priests afterward and tell them of my plans regarding the shafit. Tell them,” she clarified. “I’ll listen to their concerns, but as the queen pointed out, I am the Banu Nahida. What I wish to share of my abilities at my hospital is my decision.”
Ghassan leaned back. “If we’re speaking so frankly … what do we get out of this? You’re asking me to lay out money and risk to restore a monument to your ancestors … people who, as you may recall, were the enemies of mine.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “The health of Daevabadis aside, I am not naive to the fact that this empowers you, not me.”
“But what if it was truly a joint project?” Zaynab spoke this time, softly at first, though her voice grew more assured as she continued. “An extension of your outreach to the Daevas, Abba. It would be greatly symbolic, especially in light of the generation celebrations.” She smiled at her father. “Maybe we could even try to finish it in time for Navasatem? You could open it yourself, as a crowning achievement for your rule.”
Ghassan inclined his head, but at his daughter’s warm smile, his expression had softened. “A rather plain appeal to vanity, Zaynab.”
“Because I know you well,” she teased. “Peace between the tribes is why you wished to see Muntadhir and Nahri marry, isn’t it? Perhaps he could even go with her to the Temple to seek the priests’ blessing.”
Nahri had to work to keep her expression neutral at that. She was glad for Zaynab’s support, but she knew how protective her people were of their customs. “Only Daevas are permitted to enter the Temple. It’s been that way for centuries.”
Hatset gave her a pointed look. “If you’re willing to take djinn money for your hospital, Banu Nahida, I think you’d be willing to let one of us darken the doorstep of your Temple.” She laid a hand on her son’s shoulder. “But it should be Alizayd. He is the one who wishes to partner with you.”
“It should be Muntadhir,” Zaynab corrected, pleasantly firm. “He is her husband, and his history is a bit less … complicated … when it comes to the Daevas.” She plucked a pink milk-sweet from one of the silver platters, taking a delicate bite. “Would it not be good to see them work together, Abba? I think it would do much to quell all this unnecessary and divisive talk from some of the other tribes.”
Nahri did not miss the sugary smile Zaynab aimed at her mother … nor the way Hatset carefully nodded once, not so much in agreement, but in quiet approval of her daughter’s maneuvering.
Muntadhir was looking at the three women with outrage. “Me? I don’t even agree with this! Why do I have to convince the priests of anything?”
“I’ll do the convincing,” Nahri said sharply. She wasn’t letting Muntadhir ruin this. “You might even enjoy it,” she added quickly, trying for more tact. “Jamshid gives a wonderful tour.”
Her husband glowered in response but stayed silent.
Ghassan seemed to study her again. It was the same look she’d seen when he’d welcomed her to Daevabad. The same look he’d worn the first time they’d negotiated her betrothal, the look of a gambler willing to bet a great deal if the risk was carefully calculated.
The first time she’d seen that expression it had set her at ease; Nahri had always preferred pragmatists. But now it made her skin crawl. Because she’d seen what Ghassan was capable of when his gambles didn’t pay off.
“Yes,” he finally said, and her heart skipped. “You may proceed. With extreme caution. I intend to be consulted on every development and every snag.” He wagged his finger in Ali’s direction. “You, in particular, are to be careful. I know how passionate you get about all of this. You are to build a hospital, not start climbing up on minbars and giving the masses sermons about equality, understand?”
Ali’s eyes flashed and Nahri did not miss the quick way Zaynab “accidentally” struck his knee, reaching rather purposefully for a serving knife. “Yes, Abba,” Ali said hoarsely. “I understand.”
“Good. Then you may tell your priests you have my blessing, Banu Nahida, and take Muntadhir with you. But you are to make it clear this is your idea, not ours. I won’t have any Daeva spreading rumors that we dragged them into this.”
She nodded. “Understood.”
The king regarded them all. “This pleases me,” he declared, rising to his feet. “It will be good for Daevabad to see us working together in peace.” He hesitated and then snapped his fingers at Ali. “Come, Alizayd. If you’re going to brag about your financial acumen, you might as well help me. I’ve a meeting with a particularly slippery governor from Agnivansha and could use you.”
Ali looked uncertain, but after a nudge from his mother, he stood. Nahri started to do the same.
Muntadhir’s hand fell lightly on her wrist. “Sit,” he hissed under his breath.
With a quick glance between them, Zaynab rose hastily. Nahri didn’t blame her; Muntadhir’s handsome face was furious, a vein jumping in his temple. “Enjoy the Temple, akhi,” she teased.
“About that …” Hatset pulled Zaynab close. “Take a walk with me, daughter.”
The door leading to the steps closed, and then they were alone, save for the wind and the gulls.
Muntadhir turned to her, a shaft of sunshine illuminating the tired shadows under his eyes. It looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. “Is this because of our fight?” he demanded. “Are you really ready to throw in with Alizayd and his lunatic ideas because of what I said?”
Nahri’s temper flared. “I’m not throwing in with anyone. I’m doing this for myself and for my people. And as you’ll recall, I came to you first. I tried to talk to you about these things—things close to my heart—and you dismissed me.” She fought to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. You made plain what you think of the foolish girl from Cairo.”
He pressed his lips into a grim line, dropping his gaze. The moment stretched, silent and tense.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally said. “I’m sorry. I was upset about Jamshid, and about Ali returning …”
“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.”
Muntadhir’s eyes darted to hers. “What are you saying?”
Nahri paused. What was she saying? As in Cairo, divorce was permissible in Daevabad—and rather widely practiced considering djinn life-spans and temperaments. But Nahri and Muntadhir were royals, their marriage blessed by Ghassan himself. It wasn’t as though she could run to a judge down the street with her grievances.
But there were lines her husband wouldn’t cross, and he’d made one of them clear on their wedding night.
“I’m doing this, Muntadhir. For my people, for myself—with or without you. I want to build this hospital. I want to see if there’s a way to make peace with the shafit. If you’d like to join me, I will gladly welcome you to my people’s Temple. If you cannot bring yourself to visit me there …” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not sure you should be visiting me anywhere.”
Stunned incredulity crossed his face, and Nahri turned away. He could stew on the implications of that for a time.
Her hand was on the door when he finally responded.
“He is so much more dangerous than you realize.” Nahri glanced back, and Muntadhir continued, his voice low. “I understand, believe it or not. I know you. I know Ali. I suspect you really were friends. I bet it was nice. The palace can be a lonely place, after all. And I know damn well he cared about you.”
Nahri stilled.
“And that’s just it, Nahri. He does care … recklessly so. Passionately so. About the shafit. About his village in Am Gezira. He cares so much he’s willing to risk himself and everyone around him, unwilling to accept a shade of gray or a lesser evil in service to a greater good.” Warning laced into his voice. “My brother would die for his causes. But he’s a prince of Daevabad, so he’s not the one who pays that price. Other people do. And you have an entire tribe of such people to protect.”
Nahri twisted the edge of her chador in her fists, wishing she could say he was wrong. Except Ali had risked incurring his father’s wrath to sneak out of the palace with her because he’d felt guilty. He’d all but warned Subha off working with them because he didn’t want to lie. They’d come here today to beg a favor from the king, and he’d been rude, brimming with his usual self-righteousness.
It doesn’t matter. Nahri had set herself on this path for the right reasons, and she now had the resources to try and bring her dream to fruition. Ali was a means to an end, and she wouldn’t let him be a weakness again.
She opened the door. “Nisreen is expecting me in the infirmary,” she said, forcing a steadiness she didn’t feel into her voice. “I’ll send word when we’re visiting the Grand Temple.”
NAHRI ALMOST GROANED WHEN SHE SAW JAMSHID waiting in the private section of the infirmary. She didn’t need him begging for another healing session or talking about Muntadhir right now. But then she noticed the anxiety that was all but radiating off his body, one leg jiggling while he passed his cane nervously back and forth between his hands. Nisreen paced before him, her expression harried.
Odd. Nisreen typically doted on him. Nahri frowned as she approached. “Everything all right?”
Jamshid glanced up, his eyes too bright above the shadows lingering under them. “Banu Nahida!” His voice sounded oddly strained. “May the fires burn brightly for you.” He cleared his throat. “Of course everything is all right.” He blinked at Nisreen. “Everything is all right?”
Nisreen glowered at him. “I certainly hope so.”
Nahri looked between the two of them. “Is something wrong at home? Has there been news of your father?”
Nisreen shook her head. “Nothing is wrong. But as a matter of fact, I did recently write to his father. Just after the prince’s feast,” she added, and Jamshid flushed. “Creator willing, he’ll be headed back to Daevabad soon.”
Let him delay. Nahri didn’t think the powerful—and rather orthodox—Daeva grand wazir was going to think much of her plans for the hospital or the shafit.
Which meant she’d need to set them in motion quickly. “That’s good, then. But since you’re both here, I want to talk.” She took a seat across from Jamshid and motioned for Nisreen to do so as well. “I’ve just gotten back from meeting with the Qahtanis …” She took a deep breath. “We’re going to rebuild the Nahid hospital.”
It took a moment for her words to land, and then Jamshid’s face lit up in intrigue as swiftly as Nisreen’s darkened.
“There’s a Nahid hospital?” he asked brightly.
“There’s an ancient ruin soaked in the blood of your ancestors,” Nisreen cut in. She stared at Nahri in shock. “You told Ghassan about your visit?”
“I left that part out, actually,” Nahri said lightly. “But yes, we’re going to restore it. The king agreed.”
“Who exactly is ‘we,’ my lady?” Nisreen asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.
“The Qahtanis, of course,” Nahri replied, deciding it was best not to be precise.
“You’re going to rebuild the Nahid hospital with the Qahtanis?” Nisreen repeated faintly. “Now?”
Nahri nodded. “We’re hoping to have it open in time for Navasatem.” That seemed wildly optimistic to her, but if that was the price for Ghassan’s blessing, she and Ali would have to find a way to get it done. “I want to change things around here. We’ll rebuild the hospital, hire the freed djinn currently living there, start training apprentices …” She grinned, hopeful in a way she hadn’t been for a very long time. A little happy, even.
“Delay it,” Nisreen said bluntly. “Don’t do this. Not now. Things are too tense.”
Nahri felt some of her spirits drain; she’d hoped her mentor would share at least a touch of her excitement. “I can’t. Ghassan only agreed so we could present it as a tribal unity gesture for the celebrations. And anyway, I don’t want to delay it,” she added, a little hurt. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”
“That all sounds extraordinary,” Jamshid enthused. “I didn’t know about the hospital, but I’d love to see it.”
“I’d like to have you do more,” Nahri replied. “I want to make you my first student.”
His cane clattered to the floor. “What?” he whispered.
Nahri bent to pick it up and then smiled. “You’re smart. You’re excellent with the other patients here, and you’ve been a great help already.” She touched his hand. “Join me, Jamshid. It might not be the way you originally thought to serve our tribe … But I think you’d be a wonderful healer.”
He took a deep breath; he seemed stunned by the offer. “I …” His gaze darted to Nisreen. “If Nisreen does not object …”
Nisreen had the look of a woman wondering what she had done to deserve her current misfortune. “I … Yes. I think Jamshid might have quite the … knack for healing.” She cleared her throat. “Though perhaps he might exercise a bit more caution when putting away ingredients in the apothecary—and when reading old texts.” She returned her gaze to Nahri. “It seems Jamshid came across some of Manizheh’s notes archived in the Temple.”
“Really?” Nahri asked. “I’d love to see them.”
Jamshid paled. “I … I’ll try to find them again.”
Nahri grinned. “Then I think this would be perfect for you! Though it won’t be easy,” she warned. “I don’t have a lot of time, and neither will you. You’ll need to all but take up residence in this place, reading and studying every second you’re not working. You might hate me by the end.”
“Never.” He gripped her hand. “When do I start?”
“There’s one more thing before you say yes.” She glanced at Nisreen. Her assistant looked like she was fighting panic, which Nahri thought a complete overreaction—Nisreen couldn’t hate the Qahtanis so much that she wouldn’t want a hospital. “Nisreen, would you mind leaving us? I’d like to speak with Jamshid alone for a moment.”
Nisreen let out a huffed sound. “Would it matter if I did mind?” She rose to her feet. “A hospital with the Qahtanis before Navasatem … The Creator have mercy …”
“What is this ‘one thing’?” Jamshid asked, pulling her attention back to him. “Not sure I like the sound of it,” he teased.
“It’s a sizable one thing,” she confessed. “And I’ll need you to keep it to yourself for now.” She lowered her voice. “I intend to open the hospital to all. Regardless of their blood.”
Confusion wrinkled Jamshid’s brow. “But … that’s forbidden. You … you can’t mean to heal mixed-bloods, Banu Nahida. You could lose your magic that way.”
The remark—a prejudice she’d heard uttered by many a fearful Daeva—stung no less for having been said in earnest ignorance. “That’s not true,” she said firmly. “I’m proof that it isn’t. I healed humans for years in Egypt before coming to Daevabad, and it never affected my magic.”
He must have heard the heat in her response, for he drew back. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to doubt you.”
She shook her head. If she couldn’t handle Jamshid’s doubt, she wouldn’t survive the reactions from the priests at the Grand Temple. “No, I want you to question me. I’m hoping you can help me convince the rest of our tribe. You’re a Temple-trained noble, the son of the grand wazir … what could sway someone like you to support this?”
He drummed his fingers against his leg. “I’m not certain you could. Let alone what Suleiman’s law says about sharing magic with them … the shafit despise us. You know what they did to the Daevas they caught after Dara’s death. They’d probably murder us all in our beds if they could.”
“Does that not make peace sound rather desirable?”
He sighed. “I don’t see how that’s possible. Look to our history. Whenever the shafit rise, we’re the ones who pay a price.”
“Jamshid, have you ever even had a conversation with a shafit lasting longer than ten minutes?”
He had the grace to blush. “We’re not supposed to interact with the human-blooded.”
“No, what we’re not supposed to do is creep through the human world, seducing virgins and starting wars. It doesn’t say anywhere that we can’t talk to them.” He fell silent but didn’t look convinced. “Speak, Jamshid,” she pressed. “Call me a fool, a tyrant, but say something.”
She saw him swallow. “Why should we have to?” he burst out. “This is our home. We’re not the ones responsible for the shafit. Let the djinn build them hospitals. Why should we be the ones to offer this peace when they’ve done nothing to deserve it?”
“Because it is our home,” she said gently. “And there’s got to be a better way to protect it, to protect all of us. Do you have any idea the size of the shafit neighborhoods, Jamshid? How crowded they are? There are probably more shafit in Daevabad than the rest of the djinn tribes put together, and we can’t rely on the Qahtanis to keep us from each other’s throats forever.” These were thoughts that had been swirling in her head for five years, solidifying more and more each day. “Doing so leaves us vulnerable.”
He seemed to contemplate that. “That’ll be your argument,” he finally said. “People are afraid. Convince them that this is the best way to ensure our safety.”
I can do that. “Excellent. Now, I should be starting my rounds.”
His face lit up. “Wonderful! May I …”
She laughed. “Oh, no.” She pointed to the nearest desk. Well, Nahri knew it was a desk. At the moment, its surface wasn’t visible: it was entirely covered in stacks upon stacks of books, messy notes, pens, inkpots, and empty teacups. “You aren’t touching any of my patients. Work your way through those books first and then we’ll talk.”
Jamshid’s eyes went wide. “All of them?”
“All of them.” She pulled over a blank piece of parchment. “Write your attendants and have them send over some of your things.” She nodded to the couch. “That’s yours. Feel free to make yourself comfortable here.”
He looked dazed, but still eager. “Thank you, Banu Nahida. I hope you know how much this means to me.”
She winked. “We’ll see if you’re still saying that in a month.” She moved toward the curtain, but then stopped and looked back. “Jamshid?”
He glanced up.
“You … you should know that Muntadhir doesn’t support this. He thinks I’m being reckless, and I’m sure he’ll have words about how I’m going to be the downfall of Daevabad the next time you see him.” She paused. If Muntadhir had turned to Jamshid when he found out his brother was returning, she had no doubt he’d do the same after their conversation on the terrace. “If that puts you in an awkward position …”
“You’re my Banu Nahida.” He hesitated, and Nahri could see warring loyalties play across his face. Oddly enough, the way it made his dark eyes crease struck her as familiar. “And I’m Daeva first. You have my support.” He gave her a hopeful smile. “Maybe I can convince him to do the same.”
A mix of relief and guilt flared in her. Nahri didn’t want to put Jamshid in the middle of her marriage, but she would take every advantage she could get. And truthfully, it was clear he was already there. “That would be appreciated.” She nodded at the books and grinned. “Now get to work.”