THE EMPIRE OF GOLD
Book Three of the Daevabad Trilogy
S. A. Chakraborty
Copyright
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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London SE1 9GF
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Copyright © S. A. Chakraborty 2020
Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com
Cover design by Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Maps copyright © Nicolette Caven
S.A. Chakraborty asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008239497
Ebook Edition © April 2020 ISBN: 9780008239510
Version: 2020-05-01
Dedication
FOR MY PARENTS, WHO WORKED SO HARD TO
MAKE SURE THEIR CHILDREN COULD DREAM,
AND WHO WERE ALWAYS THERE, NO MATTER
HOW LONG AND FAR MY WANDERINGS
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Maps
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1. Nahri
Chapter 2. Dara
Chapter 3. Nahri
Chapter 4. Dara
Chapter 5. Ali
Chapter 6. Nahri
Chapter 7. Dara
Chapter 8. Nahri
Chapter 9. Ali
Chapter 10. Nahri
Chapter 11. Dara
Chapter 12. Dara
Chapter 13. Dara
Part Two
Chapter 14. Nahri
Chapter 15. Ali
Chapter 16. Dara
Chapter 17. Nahri
Chapter 18. Ali
Chapter 19. Dara
Chapter 20. Nahri
Chapter 21. Dara
Chapter 22. Ali
Chapter 23. Ali
Chapter 24. Ali
Chapter 25. Nahri
Chapter 26. Ali
Chapter 27. Dara
Chapter 28. Nahri
Chapter 29. Ali
Chapter 30. Nahri
Chapter 31. Dara
Chapter 32. Ali
Chapter 33. Nahri
Chapter 34. Ali
Chapter 35. Dara
Chapter 36. Nahri
Chapter 37. Ali
Chapter 38. Dara
Chapter 39. Nahri
Chapter 40. Dara
Chapter 41. Nahri
Part Three
Chapter 42. Nahri
Chapter 43. Ali
Chapter 44. Nahri
Part Four
Chapter 45. Dara
Chapter 46. Nahri
Chapter 47. Ali
Chapter 48. Nahri
Epilogue
Cast of Characters
Glossary
The Six Tribes of the Djinn
Acknowledgements
Also by S. A. Chakraborty
About the Publisher
Maps
PROLOGUE
MANIZHEH
Behind the battlements of the palace that had always been hers, Banu Manizheh e-Nahid gazed at her family’s city.
Bathed in starlight, Daevabad was beautiful—the jagged lines of towers and minarets, domes and pyramids—astonishing from this height, like a jumble of jeweled toys. Beyond the sliver of white beach, the dappled lake shimmered with movement against the black embrace of mountains.
She spread her hands on the stone parapet. This was not a view Manizheh had been permitted while a prisoner of the Qahtanis. Even as a child, her defiance had made them uneasy; the palace magic’s public embrace of the young Nahid prodigy and her obvious talent curbing her life before she was old enough to realize the guards that surrounded her day and night weren’t for her protection. The only other time she’d been up here had been as Ghassan’s guest—a trip he’d arranged shortly after he became king. Manizheh could still remember how he’d taken her hand as they’d gazed at the city their families had killed each other for, speaking dreamy words about uniting their peoples and putting the past behind them. About how he’d loved her since they were children, and about how sad and helpless he’d felt all those times his father had beaten and terrorized her and her brother. Surely she must have understood that Ghassan had had no choice but to stay silent.
In her mind’s eye, Manizheh could still see his face that night, the moon shining upon his hopeful expression. They’d been younger; he’d been handsome. Charming. What a match, people would have said. Who wouldn’t want to be the beloved queen of a powerful djinn king? And indeed, she’d laced her fingers between his and smiled—for she still wore such an expression in those days—her eyes locked on the mark of Suleiman’s seal, new upon his face.
And then she’d closed off his throat.
It hadn’t lasted. Ghassan had been quicker with the seal than she’d anticipated, and as her powers fell away, so did the pressure on his throat. He’d been enraged, his face red with betrayal and lack of air, and Manizheh remembered thinking that he would hit her. That he’d do worse. That it wouldn’t matter if she screamed—for he was king now and no one would cross him.
But Ghassan hadn’t done that. He hadn’t needed to. Manizheh had gone for his heart and so Ghassan did the same with ruthless effectiveness: having Rustam beaten within a hair of his life as she was forced to watch, breaking her brother’s bones, letting them heal and then doing it again, torturing him until Rustam was a howling mess and Manizheh had fallen to her knees, begging Ghassan for mercy.
When he finally granted it, he’d been even angrier at her tears than he’d been at her initial refusal. I wanted things to be different between us, he’d said accusingly. You shouldn’t have humiliated me.
She took in a sharp breath at the memory. He’s dead, she reminded herself. Manizheh had stared at Ghassan’s bloody corpse, committing the sight to memory, trying to assure herself that her tormentor was truly gone. But she wouldn’t have him burned, not yet. She intended to examine his body further, hoping for clues as to how he’d possessed Suleiman’s seal. Manizheh hadn’t missed that his heart had been removed—carved from his chest with surgical precision and making it clear who’d done the removing. Part of her was grateful. Despite what she’d told Nahri, Manizheh knew almost nothing about how the seal ring was passed to another.
And now, because of Nahri, Manizheh knew the first step after finding them would be to cut out the heart of Nahri’s djinn prince.
Manizheh returned her gaze to the city. It was startlingly quiet, adding an eerie facade
