Page 5 of Black Salt Queen

The tears Laya had been fighting since she’d spoken to her mother splashed over the front of her dress. She leaned her forehead against the cool wooden panel that spanned the door. She sucked in a breath, ready to sob in earnest, when a muted thump behind her drew her attention.

An intruder. Laya whirled around, palms outstretched.

The man on her balcony held up his hands in surrender. His dark hair was pulled away from his smooth, handsome face. He wore a scarlet vest that exposed the mesmerizing swirls of tattoos on his chest. A sword twice the length of Laya’s arm hung at his hip, its curved brass hilt melded into the beak of a hornbill.

“Luntok?” She lowered her arms. An incriminating smile spread across her face.

“I believe you summoned me,” he said, grinning.

Laya remembered herself, drying her tears on her sleeve. She didn’t allow anyone to catch her in a moment of weakness?—Luntok Kulaw was no exception. A defiant spark wound through her as she slinked across the room and draped her arms around his neck. The queen would give Laya far more than a lecture if she learned the true nature of this dalliance. With every visit, she and Luntok danced closer and closer to the razor’s edge. The guardsmen had nearly discovered them over a dozen times in the past, and the head of the royal guard, General Ojas, had doubled the patrol in light of the upcoming feast days. Luntok knew to take better care.

“Dolt.” She pretended to chide him. “You weren’t supposed to come until later tonight. I ought to throw you in the prison hold for this.”

By now, Luntok was accustomed to her empty threats. “If I begged, would you look past my impertinence?” he asked, reeling her in by the waist.

Laya’s breath caught in her throat. The fatigue from her excursion at the port faded as giddy longing flooded her veins. She resisted the urge to melt into his arms. Instead, she squared her jaw and leaned closer. “Dolt,” she said again. “You don’t deserve clemency.”

Luntok chuckled and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “I came as soon as I heard of your heroics with the ship. Submit me to your ire if you wish. That is how badly I missed you,” he said. The deep rumble of his voice sent a cool shiver down the column of Laya’s spine.

Oh, but Laya knew far too well what he meant. Her heart sang whenever Luntok showed up at her balcony, and a small piece of it died each time he left.

“Lovesick fool. Have you not an ounce of sense?” Laya said crisply, more to herself than to him.

There are worse mistakes I can make,she thought as she appraised Luntok. He had grown into a beautiful man over the many years she had known him. What his family lacked in repute, he countervailed in passion. He could have his pick of the loveliest brides in the kingdom, but he burned for the one woman to whom he’d been forever barred. The truth had never mattered to Luntok Kulaw. When he fell, he fell deeply. And Luntok loved Laya more than air?—everyone knew this.

The court liked to whisper about the pair of them. Not even joyless Bulan could deny Luntok’s devotion. Laya could not help but love him back. Unlike the rest of Maynara, Luntok didn’t stare at her in envy or horror or cowlike worship. When Laya met his eyes, she saw nothing but desire there. He adored both the woman and the god in her. He treasured even the ugliest parts?—the parts her own mother refused to love. Luntok was the sole person who would accept whatever storm she sent his way and love her more for it. Although Laya would never admit it, her heart belonged to no one else but him.

“Sense,” Luntok echoed, his breath tickling her ear. “What good ever came from that?”

Laya’s eyes darkened at the hint of a challenge. She kissed him in response, losing her breath against his lips.

They were fools, the pair of them. Laya and Luntok, a Gatdula and a Kulaw. History ordained that they hate each other forever, yet their jagged edges fit together so easily. But Luntok was different. Luntok was nothing like his ancestors. He belonged toher, not to history. The court could chatter as much as they liked. Whenever she was with him, her heartbeat drowned out whatever warnings she’d been told.

Sex was a song they learned from each other?—how wrong it felt to sing it with anyone else. They first succumbed to the music three years before, when they were old enough to know better. Each time, they made love to the same harried rhythm, as if the sky would suddenly crack open above their heads and the earth were about to swallow them whole. If Laya had been half the fool her mother thought she was, she might have allowed herself to get swept away in the swells and the motions and the beats she knew by heart. But she kept one hand tangled in Luntok’s hair, the other firmly pressed against his collarbone. Laya was ready to push him back at any moment?—despite the queen’s disparaging remarks, Hara Duja had taught her well.

“You ought to go now,” she said afterward, when they were lying together in bed, their limbs entwined beneath the sheets.

Luntok bristled at her sudden coldness. He reached for her, annoyance rising in his tone. “Laya?—”

“Luntok, I’m serious.” Laya withdrew from his side and reached for her dressing robe. She yanked it on over her shoulders, almost tearing the fabric. It was hand-stitched from imported lilac pongee, more delicate than any other garment she owned.

He didn’t budge from the bed. Pain flickered in his eyes. His gaze burned. She felt it on the side of her neck even as she turned away.

This wouldn’t last either. The reminder left an acrid taste in Laya’s throat. None of this was Luntok’s fault, but she wanted to punish him anyway.

The mattress creaked when Luntok at last got up to dress. Regret sank in as she watched him slide his vest over his broad, muscled shoulders. He thought her haughty and cruel. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want this any more than he did. She resisted the urge to reach across the bed and shake him.Can’t you see how I ache?

“All of Mariit is talking. They suspect you’ll choose a husband soon,” he said as he laced up his shoes.

“Let them speculate,” she said coolly. Marriage was a dangerous subject. She knew better than to provoke Luntok’s jealousy.

With a weary sigh, he headed back to the balcony. Laya followed him, impatient to see him out. He paused, bracing his weight against the balustrade.

Laya’s eyes darted to the palace grounds. A passing guard could spy him in an instant and toss him into the hold. “What are you waiting for?” she hissed.

“For you to make up your mind,” Luntok said, tilting his gaze to the cloudless sky above. Much to Laya’s chagrin, he appeared blissfully unbothered by the threat of imprisonment.

“Make up my mind about what?” she demanded.

---