Page 2 of Black Salt Queen

Laya scowled and slowed down further just out of spite. “You’re my sister, not my handler,” she called back.

“According to Mother, I am both,” Bulan said curtly. “I’m to be your high counselor.”

Laya bit back a retort. Though Bulan was only fulfilling her duties as counselor to the future queen, Laya wanted nothing more in that moment than to smack her sister across the face.

Thankfully, Bulan didn’t give her another order until they reached the water’s edge. Laya leaned against the brass railing. Her nose filled with the scents of rusted metal and crusty salt. Under the uneven slits between planks, coral-tinged waves splashed up against the wooden beams holding up the pier.

“Do you see the problem now?” Bulan pointed several hundred feet across the water at the entrance to the harbor. Its opening was flanked on either side by rocks that gnashed at passing ships like sharks’ teeth. Laya followed Bulan’s finger with her gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw the source of all the fuss.

“What on earth...?”

Bulan nodded. “Last night, one of the ships got blown off course. Now it’s blocking half the entrance. Only the smaller boats can get in.”

“How strong were those winds?” Laya asked, incredulous.

The ship in question was one of the largest cargo vessels Laya had ever seen. Its hull would rival the belly of a whale, and its masts shot straight up to the heavens, disappearing into the clouds overhead. The bow had gotten lodged between the jagged rocks at the mouth of the harbor. Laya counted several rowboats tethered to the sides of the hull, sailors straining with their oars as they struggled in vain to free the ship.

“Didn’t you hear the storm last night?” Bulan said. A shadow of recognition crossed her face. Her gaze hardened. “Ah?—the Kulaws must have arrived early for the feast days. I’m guessingthat’swhat kept you occupied.”

A deep flush crept up Laya’s neck. Her knuckles whitened against the railing. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating. I haven’t seen Luntok in weeks,” she said testily. It wasn’t a lie.

Bulan hummed a note of disbelief and turned back to the beached ship. No matter what excuse Laya gave, her sister would never believe her.

Doubt churned in Laya’s gut.She can’t prove anything,she thought savagely. Rather than press Bulan on the subject, Laya swallowed her worries and focused on the task at hand. Her eyes fell once more on the men in the rowboats?—their meager oars could do little to free a vessel of that size. A powerful gust had entrapped the ship between the rocks, and only a powerful gust could blow it out.

“Stand back,” she told Bulan as she raised her palms to the sky. The air rushed down to meet them in winding currents. Laya grinned as the invisible threads of energy wrapped themselves around her fingertips. She balled her hands into fists, cementing her grasp. With a deep breath, she gave the threads a harsh tug. The air above their heads split with a mighty blast that almost knocked her and Bulan off their feet.

Laya steeled her jaw, firming her stance on the pier. At her summons, dark, gray storm clouds barreled in from across the Untulu Sea. She whisked the wind to a violent speed, relishing the way it whipped her hair back and rushed past her fingers. Its energy coursed through her veins, at once exhilarating and familiar. She closed her eyes, wishing for the wind to lift her along with it. Laya had tasted power like that once, years earlier. Power so strong, it shot her skyward and gave her wings. How long before she would taste that kind of power again?

“Laya, be careful!” Bulan’s fearful scream pierced through the roaring in her ears. Bulan had seen what Laya became when she got swept up in the throes of Mulayri’s power. She, too, remembered.

Her sister’s voice brought her back to the earth. Laya blinked, the wind stinging her eyes. She trained her gaze once more on the ship. Another breath, and she shifted the angle of her wrist. One mighty gale would do the trick. With a grunt, Laya hurled it straight at the sails.

At the mouth of the harbor, the ship lurched. The bottom of its hull scraped against the rocks with a metallic groan. Powerful waves rippled out from the ship, threatening to overturn the surrounding rowboats. Agitated shouts echoed from the water below as the men scrambled to steer themselves out of harm’s way.

“Yes! Hold out a bit longer, Laya. It’s starting to move,” Bulan cried.

For once, Laya was happy to obey. She tautened her hold, her arms shaking as she tugged harder on the threads. When she opened her fists, the air burst from her palms in relentless gusts. The sails ballooned as they filled, propelling the ship forward.

She had never sustained a hold on the wind for longer than a few seconds before. The power tore at her aching muscles. The threads pulled through her fingers, fighting their way free. Laya willed herself not to panic. She sagged against the railing, battling the urge to collapse. The clouds continued to buck against her hold, like horses jerking at their bridles, when one of the rocks beneath the hull gave at last. A final jet of air, and the bow of the ship slid back into the water with a resounding splash.

Laya’s arms dropped to her sides, limp as noodles. She crumpled as the threads of energy ripped free from her grip. Across the harbor, sailors broke out into triumphant cheers. Laya did not pay them any heed. Her storm clouds dispersed as quickly as they had appeared. The sun emerged, higher above the horizon than when Laya and Bulan had arrived, beating down on the wharf once more. She wrapped her arms around her knees, teeth chattering despite the renewed heat. Power liked to make its absence known; deprived of its embrace, Laya felt cold.

Bulan knelt beside her, brow furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?” she asked, resting a tentative hand on her sister’s shoulder.

An old memory flickered in Laya’s mind. Another sunny morning, over a decade earlier, they had been racing in the palace courtyard. Their youngest sister hadn’t been born yet, and it was just the two of them. Laya, desperate to keep up with Bulan’s longer legs, had tripped on a loose tile and skinned her knees. Bulan forgot about winning. She rushed to Laya’s side and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Don’t cry,Bulan had told her.I’m right here.

They were children then. They hadn’t known that their fates had already been decided. Had been before their mother, Hara Duja, named her heir. Before Laya discovered she could summon the wrath of the skies at her fingertips.

“I’m fine,” Laya said, her throat tight. She stood, brushing Bulan’s hand and the memory aside.

They walked back to the carriage in silence. This time, Laya accepted the guardsman’s arm as she climbed inside. She collapsed against the cushioned bench, feeling like her muscles had dissolved into gelatin. Bulan slid into the seat across from her. At the front of the carriage, the driver gave the command. The wheels shuddered into motion, rolling over the creaking planks as they pulled away from the harbor.

Laya gazed sleepily out the window as the towering walls of Mariit came into view. Members of the Royal Maynaran Guard stood in straight, unbroken lines before the great wooden doors that led to the heart of the capital. Laya recognized a few of their faces, and if she cared enough, she could ask Bulan about the name of their regiment. With their chain-linked armor and menacing lances, they looked ready for war. Much of their presence was ceremonial, as no one had dared attack Mariit in decades. These days, the guardsmen mainly served to stamp travel papers and keep all suspicious elements at bay. Laya Gatdula had brought no travel papers with her. She needed only show her face at the checkpoint?—Maynara’s highest-ranked princess required no further explanation.

At the sight of her, the guard at the front of the line snapped to attention. He barked an order up the ramparts, and the gates groaned as they opened. The carriage rolled through the rusting gates, continuing alongside the long, narrow canal that flowed from the harbor all the way to the bustling center of Mariit. It wasn’t long before the royal banners, strips of Gatdula green fluttering from the roof of the carriage, caught the city’s full attention.

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