Shannon Chakraborty

The River of Silver

Cassidy Nolan

Nahri waited for the panic to steal over her. The forest, typically full of birdsong and the chitter of various magical animals flitting from branch to branch, had gone quiet and soft. This moment was too sweet, too promising. But the urge to distance herself from it, to wall off her heart and protect herself from any future hurt, didn’t come, and that itself seemed a hopeful sign.

Still she could not help but ask, half teasing. “Do you think it will be a happy one?”

“Are you sure? If you don’t want to wait, I would understand. There are no names carved . . .”

“There is only one name I want carved next to mine on this mask.” Clearly unable to resist bending the rules a littl, Ali brought her hand to his mouth and lightly, so lightly it might have been a brush of the wind, kissed her knuckles.

“But someone who hopes her feelings are clear, even if she can’t say them yet.”

“Oh, Nahri.” Ali reached for her hand. “I don’t know whether to weep or to kiss you. One would probably be a rather alarming response and the other is forbidden.” He finally met her gaze and no matter what he said, his eyes were already wet and Nahri did not miss the desire burning there. “Your feelings are clear, my light,” he said in Arabic. “I hope mine are too.”

Ali smiled, and Nahri felt herself fall. She wanted to wrap herself in the sweetness of that smile and stay in it forever.

A pair of arms caught her. “You’re all right,” Ali said softly.

She squeezed her eyes against the prick of tears, embarrassed and furious. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.” Ali stroked back the hair from her face, letting Nahri rest against his chest. “Just breathe.”

Finished with her day, Nahri pushed back from the desk.

“Good.” Zaynab reached out to take Aqisa’s hand again and gave it a squeeze, a thrill running through her. “Then let’s go find some humans.”

The woman who made her think there might just be more to life than politics and family duty. That maybe, just maybe, Zaynab could explore. She could get lost.

Zaynab al Qahtani would have led another rebellion for a break.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be learning any useful information about mysterious ifrit sightings tonight, but he could at least finish his drink, get a brief taste of society, and leave in peace.

It wasn’t as though he needed to make polite conversation with a 

Darayavahouse e-Afshin had led battles and masterminded a resistance movement. He had traveled the winds as no daeva had in millennia and defeated Banu Manizheh e-Nahid. He had walked away from Paradise itself, determined to earn its peace and pay penance for his crimes.

None of those feats seemed as intimidating as entering this Creator-damned tavern.

He was simply Jamshid’s, body and soul.

And his Baga Nahid had earned this. Maybe Muntadhir couldn’t pick himself up for his own benefit, but for Jamshid he could try. He would try.

He pressed his brow to Jamshid’s, breathing in the scent of his skin. “I will stand up for you, my love.”

“I love you. Maybe that makes me the worst son in the world, but I still love you. I have always loved you. Come home with me.”

Muntadhir’s heart was racing so fast he could barely breathe. This was impossible. Impossible. “People will talk.”

“I don’t give a damn. We aren’t the first, we aren’t the last, and if I am to spend a life serving this city, I will have the man I love at my side.”

Ah, there it was. The murderous glare was back on him again. But teasing the scariest person he’d ever slept with was preferable to discussing more dangerous topics like Muntadhir’s broken health, sanity, and a future he couldn’t see.

“That’s very unkind. I’m at least a marginally attractive ghoul by now.” Muntadhir waved a thin wrist. “I believe that was the requirement for being released.”

“God, that’s a beautiful sight,” Muntadhir said admiringly as his wedding contract burst into flames.

Nahri clunked her teacup against his. “To the end of the world’s worst political marriage.”

“Anyone who has a problem with that can answer to us.”

“To us,” Zaynab said firmly. “Come, Doctor. I’d like to speak to your Daeva patients.”

”God, I hope this works. I can’t let her down again.”

Not the hospital. Nahri. Zaynab wondered if Ali even heard it. If her clueless brother had any idea the dangerous path he seemed determined to race down.

”Like this?” Ali asked, bending low to let her examine his turban.

”No, not like that. Let me . . .” Zaynab quickly rewrapped the turban, the fabric feather-light in her hands.

So instead he quietly called upon the marid magic he’d denied having and very carefully stilled the rain before it could fall on her head.

“Could we grow then here?” Nahri asked. “They’re one of the first flowers to bloom in spring, and the sight of them has always made me hopeful.”

“Then I will grow them everywhere,” Ali said automatically.

Nahri laughed. It was a genuine, deep laugh, not one of her mocking snickers. Ali couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard it. He wanted to grab it, to memorize the way her grin lit her face and keep it there for as long as he could—both in real life and in his memory.

Ali glanced between the sketch in his lap and the hospital garden, then tapped his pencil against his chin.

“Thank you, Emir Muntadhir,” she said uncomfortably, with as much politeness as possible. It would not do to entirely reject her reluctant yet powerful ally. “Good night.”

I loved this addition to The Daevabad Trilogy! The author has done such a good job developing all her characters, including the so-called "side" characters, that I was obsessed with getting to learn more about them and their experiences before, during, and especially after the events of the original three books. I'm really hoping Zaynab and Aqisa get a spin-off series...

Niza Contreras

fatru tamzil

Oh my God, I miss Daevabad so much. I haven't been with these characters in a long time, but I have missed them all the same. Nahri's wit, Ali's dorkiness, Munthadir's sarcasm and self-destructive behaviour (affectionate), Jamshid's sensitivity and his passion...I miss them all. Reading this make me want to reread the series again.

A delightful return to the Daevabad trilogy - and suprising as it is a series of short vignettes, none really even a short story - the book has a compelling arc as it revisits key characters before, during, and after the trilogy. Well done.

The River of Silver

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