Page 15 of Black Salt Queen

As Datu Tanglaw and his son mounted the steps, their servants lugging what looked like a chest of antique Maynaran instruments behind them, General Ojas swept over to the queen. He wore ceremonial armor, a silk sash of Gatdula green, and an even stonier expression than usual.Curious.Laya craned her neck to listen.

“Your Majesty, a man just arrived at the palace,” Ojas whispered. “My men tried to send him away, but he insisted.”

“What kind of man, General?” the queen asked in a hushed voice.

“Notourkind, Your Majesty. I would have sent him on the first ship out of Maynara, but he...” For the first time, Laya heard Ojas hesitate. “He bears an invitation from the king.”

Laya’s ears perked up in interest. Her father often received a wide range of eccentric guests at the palace?—thinkers and artists and exotic beast tamers. Something in Ojas’s tone told her this guest was unlike any of them.

“Did he... come alone?” the queen asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ojas said.

For one sharp moment, Hara Duja remained silent. Her sleeves rustled as she reached for the king’s hand. “Aki...”

The quaver in her voice caught Laya’s attention. She had never heard her mother sound so anxious before. She looked over her shoulder, no longer pretending she wasn’t listening.

Her father leaned in toward the queen, uncharacteristically tight-lipped. “When this is over, you must speak with him. Take Ojas with you so you’re not alone,” he whispered. He cast a wary glance at the procession, at the hundreds of Maynarans gathered beyond the palace gates, and added, “Be careful, Duja. Go as quietly as you can.”

Speak with whom? And why the secrecy?

Laya’s skin tingled with anticipation. She fidgeted, impatient, as the remaining families took their time climbing the great steps. Would the procession ever end? She stifled a groan. When Laya was queen, she would order the datus to deliver their tributes to the palace several weeks ahead of the feast days and be done with it.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” Bulan demanded under her breath.

Laya ignored her. She stared hard at Datu Patid, flanked on either side by his daughters, young girls around Eti’s age with forgettable names and sallow cheeks, until he at last rose from his knees. Hara Duja gave him a regal nod, accepting the last of her tributes. She stood and gestured at General Ojas. Together, they disappeared through the enormous doors atop the great stairs. Moments later, the forecourt erupted into a flurry of movement as the nobles streamed into the palace for the opening feast.

On either side, Laya’s sisters gathered their skirts. They, too, made their way inside. Laya glanced between them. She didn’t want to spy on their mother alone, but who should she take with her? Eti couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. But Bulan, with her sharp mind and soldier’s tread?—

“Hari Aki, if I might have a word.” One of the nobles, Datu Tanglaw, caught up with the king. Laya had scarcely exchanged words with the man over the years, but she remembered his thick black eyebrows and obsequious tone.

Laya’s father turned to the other man, a winning smile on his face, ready to fend off whatever request Datu Tanglaw planned to make of him.

Perfect.They could slip away while the king was distracted.

Laya grabbed Bulan’s wrist. “Follow me,” she whispered.

Bulan stared at her, incredulous. “What are you?—”

She whisked her from the throng of nobles before Bulan could finish her sentence. They darted down the long corridor leading to the great hall. Laya refused to stop until they reached the passageway that linked the great hall to the palace kitchens.

“Now will you explain where you’re taking me?” Bulan asked.

Laya silenced her with a look. Servants passed them with trays of food in their hands, not bothering to conceal their curious gazes. Laya glared at them until they diverted their eyes. To Bulan, she leaned forward and whispered, “It’s about Mother. Weren’t you listening earlier? She’s meeting someone in secret.”

Bulan raised her eyebrows. “She’s meeting someone?Now?”

Laya nodded and lowered her voice even further. “If I wanted to speak with someone out of sight of the prying eyes of Mariit, where would I take them?”

Recognition flashed in Bulan’s eyes. She pulled Laya to the end of the servants’ passageway, where stood a narrow window overlooking the central courtyard.

“Look,” Bulan said, pointing.

Laya scanned the grounds. She spied a handful of guards on patrol, gardeners tending to the flower arrangements the king planned to unveil later in the week, and?—there. Marching along the arcaded walkway was their mother. Laya recognized her straight back and brisk pace. When the queen wasn’t suffering from her tremors, she moved like death itself was chasing her, which wasn’t far from the truth.

“She’s heading to the eastern wing,” Bulan murmured.

“The eastern wing?” Laya echoed. Guilt boiled in her stomach when she thought about her accident. She had apologized over a hundred times. But it hadn’t been the first time a Gatdula had destroyed the eastern wing. The building was cursed. After watching its gilded facade crumble beneath her gusts of wind, Laya knew that better than anyone. Who on earth could Hara Duja be hiding there?

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