Page 1 of Black Salt Queen

One

Two Invitations

Dear Luntok,

My sources have informed me that you arrived safely in Mariit, and that you were awaiting this letter with bated breath. They did not need to inform me of this latter detail. Seeing as over a month has passed since your last visit, I had assumed your impatience.

You will have to wait a while longer, darling. The feast days are about to commence, and my sister tells me there is an urgent matter at the port. She begged me to come immediately, but first I thought of you. Urgent matters to attend to, and all I can picture is you scampering to the palace without a worry in your lovely head. However excited you are to see me?—wait.

It pains me to caution you against the passions to which you are so inclined. After all, you sent heart-stirring elegies in your last letter. How could a warrior wield such a gentle pen? When we meet again, you’ll hang your head and beg me not to be so brisk. To this I say, Wait, my darling. What I promise will ignite your soul far more than some paltry poem. When you are in my arms, you will forget all else.

Come see me tonight, but no sooner. You know the way, perhaps better than myself by now. You mustn’t come before the usual hour. I’ll leave the window open for you, as I always do.

You accused me of apathy in your letter, alongside your poems. I wonder, Luntok, What do you expect me to confess?

I would tell you I missed you, if that’s what you want to hear, but when I said it last time, you didn’t believe a word of it.

Until tonight,

Laya

One

Laya

Few things displeased Laya more than impromptu appointments. She was doubly displeased when such appointments were demanded of her before noon.

She drew back the carriage window shade with an impatient sigh. Bulky blocks of limestone loomed in the corner of her vision?—the city’s ramparts, a relic of past wars, now a modern eyesore. The royal carriage lumbered through the ramparts’ imposing gates, slowing as it entered the port on the outskirts of the city.

“What took you so long?” Her older sister’s voice, crisp as the ocean breeze, greeted Laya as soon as her carriage rolled to a stop on the warped planks that lined the wharf.

“I had scarcely woken up when you sent for me,” Laya said, shoving open the door. Bulan jumped out of the way. The hilt of her sword scraped against the carriage’s lacquered surface?—a piercing sound that made both girls wince.

“Laya,”Bulan hissed as she regained her footing.

“What?” Laya asked, unperturbed. She gathered her skirt with one hand, the glossy indigo silk creasing in her fingers, and grabbed the doorframe with the other.

“Allow me, Dayang Laya,” one of the guardsmen muttered?—a new recruit, judging by the pristine shine of his armor. He stole a glance at Laya, his beady eyes shimmering with curiosity, then offered his arm to help her down.

Laya ignored him and stepped out of the carriage on her own. She cast her gaze beyond the mouth of the harbor, squinting at the pale dawn light that rippled across the Untulu Sea. If given the choice, she would not have left her bed until midday, but Bulan’s messenger had been persistent.

“You truly have no sense of urgency, do you?” Bulan said, pursing her lips. With her arms crossed in disapproval, Bulan could not have looked more like their mother.

Laya’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “I came, didn’t I?” she said, waving Bulan’s attention back to the port.

The port was the gateway to the capital of Maynara. Over half the goods traveling in and out of the kingdom went through these very docks. No matter the hour, the murky harbor was teeming with activity. Dozens of ships with hulls large enough to transport entire villages squeezed into the crowded channels. Gauging by the flock of sails billowing on the horizon, dozens more were on their way. But, according to Bulan’s messenger, those ships wouldn’t get anywhere without Laya’s help.

“Now,” Laya said, “tell me about this emergency.”

Bulan’s brow furrowed, and Laya couldn’t help but bite back a smug grin. Her sister wouldn’t have summoned her here if she’d had any other choice. Whatever the problem may be, Laya was the sole person who could fix it. Her talents were as useful as they were rare. Yet she was seldom given an opportunity to use them.

“Follow me.” Without another word, Bulan turned on her heel and hurried Laya away from the carriage.

Laya struggled to keep up with her sister’s long, steady strides. Bulan marched them over to the other end of the main pier, her boots striking the planks at an even staccato. No matter the task, Bulan moved with manic precision. Much of that stemmed from her sword training. Bulan awoke before sunrise every morning to perfect her form. Laya would have gone mad if she’d had to rehearse the same slash sequences and foot patterns for the rest of her life. For whatever reason, her sister found pleasure in it, in the sweat and drills that were part of her relentless quest for self-mastery.

As Bulan pressed forward, she didn’t notice the number of heads turning in their direction?—but Laya did. She held her head higher, slowing her pace to an elegant glide, as uniformed guardsmen and wind-battered sailors froze where they stood to stare after the princesses in awe.

Bulan glared at her over her shoulder. “Laya, keep up, will you?”

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