Page 52 of Black Salt Queen

Luntok’s voice, softer than rustling palm leaves, jolted Laya back to reality. She looked up with a gasp. He was standing on the balcony, his profile silhouetted against the full moon. When he stepped out of the shadows, he gazed at her, his smooth face fixed in a somber expression.

“Luntok,” Laya cried. She forgot about the world beyond her bedroom when she ran to him. Every inch of her body sang in delight. Luntok had come to the palace. He hadn’t abandoned her.

“I’m here,” he whispered, gathering her in his arms. The blood and swelling were gone, flushed away by the healer’s touch. Luntok stood before her, as strong as he’d been before his fight against Bulan the previous evening.

Laya pulled back to cup his face, her brow knitted in concern. “When you didn’t answer, I thought you were deathly hurt. Or perhaps...” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “Perhaps you didn’t want to see me again.”

Luntok caught her hand and held it to his cheek. “I would die if I couldn’t see you. I’d throw myself off the summit of Mount Matabuaya. I’d pitch myself into the Untulu Sea,” he said, and pressed his lips into the tender flesh of her palm.

“A poet’s words.” Her tone was playful, but her eyes were not. Luntok was there. She threaded her long, slender fingers between his. She thought back to her mother’s warning, and her heart grew heavy. No, Laya wouldn’t let Luntok go?—not yet.

“I meant them,” Luntok said. His gaze scalded her skin, a flame that blazed hotter the longer he looked at her. Laya remembered what she had written in her last letter; that was what she’d promised him.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, reeling him closer. “You must be careful with your words, poet,” she whispered in his ear. “My heart cannot bear the beauty of them, and I have already fallen so deeply in love.”

“Love,”he repeated, his voice strained, as if the word were fragile porcelain that would fracture the moment he uttered it.

Laya nodded. “I love you, Luntok,” she said as her heart pounded in her chest.

With trembling hands, he drew her closer by the waist. Laya tilted her mouth up to meet his and melted into their kiss. Her heart soared. Her heart ached. She ran her hands up the tattooed skin on his arms, tugging him toward her, desperate to eliminate every last inch of space between them.

As she deepened the kiss, her fingers trailed down the front of his vest, tracing the soft, scarlet threads. Farther they traveled, down his torso and abdomen, before coming to rest atop the hardening tent at the inseam of his trousers.

Luntok jerked back. “Don’t say this is love, Laya,” he said, shaking his head. “Not unless you truly mean it.”

Laya’s eyes widened in alarm. She cupped his face once more in her hands, but he refused to meet her gaze, his jaw tautening beneath her fingers. “Of course I mean it,” she said, breathless. “I love you, Luntok. I have always loved you?—you and no one else.”

“Then marry me.”The proposal tore through Luntok’s lips like a snarl. He grasped the nape of her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. “Marry me, and I’ll love you the way no other man can love you. Marry me, and I’ll make you happy until the end of our days.”

Laya laid a hand on his chest. She didn’t shove him back right away. “For Mulayri’s sake, Luntok,” she told him weakly. “What do you expect me to say?”

“Sayyes. Damn the kingdom. Damn your family. We belong together, Laya. And we’ll silence anyone who dares tell us otherwise,” he said, and gave her a sudden shake. Laya stared up at him in shock. He didn’t hurt her?—he wouldn’t dare hurt her?—but she’d never heard him speak with such raw panic before. For the first time, Luntok scared her.

When she didn’t answer right away, he blustered on. “In your heart, you know who I am?—and what kind of king I could be. I understand the south, same as I understand the rest of Maynara. Unlike Bato or Waran or the other imbeciles clamoring for your hand, I’m the only one who could rule justly by your side. I wouldn’t whisper mindless drivel in your ears, nor would I grovel at your feet.Youwould be the hands that steer this land in the right direction. And I?—” He drew in a deep breath, tenderness momentarily dampening the madness in his expression. “I would be your eyes.”

Laya’s face fell. She could see how ardently Luntok believed he was the sole man in the realm worthy of being her king. Part of her wanted to believe it as well. It was true; no one understood her better than he did. Their utter acceptance of one another drew them together all those years before?—a mutual appreciation that stretched deeper than lust.

But Luntok did not understand Maynara as well as Laya. Although the rebellion was long over, contempt for Thu-ki permeated deep into the core of the island. Her people could never stomach a Kulaw on the throne. To marry Luntok would be to lose their favor. To risk her right to the throne. And no love?—not even one as fierce and unwavering as Luntok’s?—was worth such a gamble.

Carefully, she disentangled herself from him and took a step back. “I love you, Luntok. Believe me. Iwantto be with you,” she said. Her voice cracked, along with the walls she’d built up to protect herself. The lie couldn’t go on?—it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. She swallowed the grief rising in her throat and, more firmly, added, “But I cannot go against the will of my family.”

Luntok stared at her, unfazed. “Why not?” he demanded.

“Why not?” she echoed.“Why not?”She wanted to scream at him for his stupidity. Instead, she sputtered out a sardonic laugh. “Because I am Hara Duja’s heir, not some minor noblewoman you can pluck from the masses. Because soon I will be queen of Maynara.”

“All the more reason we should marry. As queen, you will be able to do as you please,” he insisted. “Just like generations of Gatdulas before you. Just like the rest of your family.”

Laya felt the blood drain from her face. “What do you mean? That Gatdulas simplydo as we please?” she asked, stiffening.

“Oh, I don’t know. Just look to your great-grandfather,” Luntok said, and threw up his arms in disgust. “The old king ignored every datu on his council when he opened Mariit to foreigners. The datus warned him, and still, he didn’t spare a single thought about the harm they might inflict upon the city. Or look no further than your sister. She forced her way into the tournament after it had already ended. Although she’s not a true Gatdula, is she?”

Enough.Luntok went too far. The moment he insulted Bulan, Laya clenched her hands into fists. She took a threatening step toward him. “My sister is as much a Gatdula as you are a Kulaw,” she said, lowering her voice to an icy pitch. “And it doesn’t matter how much we love each other. We cannot change who we are.That, Luntok, is why we can never marry.”

The truth swung between them, swifter than an executioner’s blade. Luntok flinched as if she had struck him. For a long moment, he stood in front of her, unable to speak. Laya watched the emotions warring in his expression. Shock crashed into outrage, which erupted into despair. He crumpled at Laya’s feet and buried his face in her skirt. Without thinking, Laya reached out to comfort him. His shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“Oh, darling,” she sighed, relenting as tears slid down her cheeks. She cradled his head in her hands as he sobbed into her knees. They stayed like that for a long while. When Luntok quieted, he looked up at her with glassy, red-rimmed eyes.

“I cannot lose you,” he said, in a voice of sober resignation. “I can’t, Laya. I refuse.”

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