Page 61 of Black Salt Queen

“Laya, it’s over.” He was stronger than she knew him to be?—inhumanly strong. Even with the blood of Mulayri that ran through her veins, she could not fight him.

“No.”Furious tears ran down her cheeks. Pangs of pain and helplessness wracked her body. She raged and spat, tried to claw at his cheeks. “How could you,” she sobbed. “I hate you. I hate you. I?—”

“Luntok, let me,” Imeria said.

Laya jerked back, but she was too slow. Imeria flattened her hand against Laya’s forehead. Laya met Luntok’s gaze a final time. He was crying. He was remorseful. She didn’t care.I’ll kill you,she thought.I’ll blast you over the edge of the terrace. I’ll?—

She blinked. Someone had cast a veil over her eyes. The chaos of the throne room disappeared in an instant. Ahead, she saw a black, starless sky that stretched for an eternity. The shouting in the background dimmed. She could hear nothing but her own ragged breathing before that, too, faded to silence.

Calm,said a gentle, honey-coated voice that did not belong to her.

Laya refused to be calm. But the blackness in front of her eyes called to her, as tiredness settled into her bones. She did not want to be calm, but she did not want to fight either.

Come,cooed the voice, as the blackness opened its arms. The velvety fibers of a worn blanket. The warm embrace of an old friend.

Yes,Laya thought. She wanted to sleep. To rest.I will come.

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her knees buckled. Her muscles sighed in relief.

At last, Laya pitched herself forward into the void. Deep, deep into the night she sank. Her fall was welcome and sweet, and the void lovingly claimed her.

Four

When Sky Meets Sword

By Order of General Ojas,

On Behalf of Her Majesty Hara Duja

Dispatch all province-based units to the capital immediately.

The Gatdulas have fallen. Imeria Kulaw has wrested control of the palace.

Hara Duja lives. The royal family and their closest allies have been taken hostage. We must liberate them. We must not yield to Kulaw reign.

War is upon us, my friends. May the gods look kindly upon us all.

Twenty-Three

Imeria

Dawn fell on Mariit beneath a blanket of haze. From high up in the palace, Imeria felt trapped inside a puff of smoke. Gray clouds blotted out the sun above, and thick fog veiled the city below. The terrace should have promised unobstructed vistas of Mariit’s town houses and twisting spires, of the green-topped balete tree at the heart of the capital and the jagged face of Mount Matabuaya on the horizon. Instead, nature had blinded her. Imeria wondered if the Gatdulas’ gods had robbed her of sight as punishment for the crimes her family had committed.

A memory returned to her, piercing through the haze. Imeria’s mother had come to visit her at the palace. By then, Imeria had been living there for over three years. The old queen had granted them a private lunch on this terrace. Imeria’s mother could not stop staring at her from across the table, her frown deepening as they ate.

“By the gods,” the late Lady Kulaw had said in a hushed voice. “You’ve changed.”

“You sound displeased,” Imeria said as she fiddled with her sleeve. She had outgrown most of the clothes her servants had packed for her when she’d first arrived in Mariit. Before she could ask for money to replace them, Duja had gifted her a new wardrobe of Gatdula green.

“Not at all, darling. You left home a child. Now look at the woman you’ve become.” Her mother’s gaze lingered on her new silks. Imeria could hear a quiver of sadness in her voice when she added, “I suppose I must thank the queen for that.”

“The queen has shown me nothing but hospitality. Dayang Duja, as well,” she said, and gestured one of the servants over to refill her drink.

Her mother was silent for several moments. She fiddled with the brooch pinned above her shoulder. It was in the shape of a great raptor bird?—the Kulaw family’s symbol. When she opened her mouth, she spoke in a careful tone. “You are very much missed in the south, Imeria. As well as they treat you here, I hope you will not forget us.”

Imeria wrangled her mouth into a neutral line. “You are my family. How could I forget?” she said?—unknowingly making a promise that would seal her fate.

Over two decades had passed since, and she had not forgotten. Imeria had once been forced into Gatdula silks, but she’d never betrayed the Kulaw blood that ran in her veins. Starting this morning, the palace belonged to them.

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