Page 75 of Black Salt Queen

Ariel clasped Eti by the shoulder. “Now we really have to go,” he insisted.

Eti didn’t budge. She stared at the edge of the tournament platform, where Laya had stood mere seconds before. She had blown back into Eti’s life so quickly, only for the Kulaws to whisk her once again out of reach.

Anger pulsed around them, threatening to sweep them off like a tidal wave. The mob had grown in number, their energy rivaling Laya’s fiercest storms. A small voice chimed in Eti’s head, ringing above the noise. It dimmed the pandemonium that raged around her. It whispered an answer that tied her safely to the ground. Let the tide come for her. This time, she would not be swept away.

Unknowingly, Laya had given Eti the key to their rescue. Her announcement left no room for ambiguity; she was marrying Luntok.In three days’ time.

“Eti,” Ariel whispered, pleadingly. “We have to go. Please.”

She shook her head as a plan took form in her mind. She knew how royal wedding ceremonies worked. Wedding ceremonies were ten times more demanding than the feast days. Wedding ceremonies required an army of servants and shamans and seamstresses. Wedding ceremonies spelled a certain amount of chaos, even when the palace had months to plan them.

Thiswas the distraction they needed.

Eti’s revelation hit her with a shock that nearly sent her tumbling down again. She stared at Ariel with a feverish gaze. “I know,” she whispered, her thoughts moving too fast to wrangle into words. “I know how we’re going to save them.”

Twenty-Eight

Imeria

One week had passed since Imeria had wrested control of the palace. She stood in the courtyard where she and Duja used to play as children. The floor had been wiped clean of the broken glass and bloodstains left over after their attack. The courtyard buzzed with activity. Save for the conspicuous absence of Hara Duja, one might assume the feast days had yet to end. Servants flooded past her in all directions, bearing brooms and rags and pails that sloshed with soapy water. Imeria had enticed several new workers to come to the palace with the promise of obscene amounts of pay, twice what they would have earned under Hara Duja. Royal weddings took weeks to plan in normal situations, and she needed the extra labor to expedite the process.

The marriage ceremony itself was a logistical nightmare. Maynaran custom required it be held at sundown on the edge of the Black Salt Cliffs. It was among Maynara’s most sacred grounds, nestled at the base of Mount Matabuaya, far away from the palace on the edges of the city. Imeria did not understand the significance of the place, nor did she care to. All she knew was that they had to follow the royal customs precisely in order to ensure the datus accepted the marriage as legitimate.

After Luntok married Laya, they were to host yet another midnight feast, which would conclude with a reprisal of the vow ceremony. Instead of bowing before Hara Duja, the Council of Datus would assert their fealty to their new sovereigns in blood. Then at last, Imeria could rest in her chambers, their claim to the Maynaran throne officially sealed.

Yari hurried past Imeria, Laya’s wedding gown scrupulously bundled in her arms. Imeria had ordered her to have them laundered. The poor girl was managing her new duties with surprising grace, considering she had no prior experience as a lady’s maid. Imeria knew she’d chosen her allies well. She would have to think of how to reward her after the ceremony.

“Yari,” she barked.

“Yes, my lady?” Yari rushed to her side, her head lowered in respect.

“Is Dayang Laya almost ready?”

“Yes, my lady. The other girls are tending to her hair. Shall I bring her to you when she is finished getting dressed?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Imeria didn’t have time to speak to Laya before the ceremony, but she wanted to be ready should Laya decide to do anything rash. “How would you describe the princess’s temperament this morning, Yari? Did she seem restless? Excitable?” she asked.

“I would say she seemed agreeable, Your Majesty. I believe your son spoke with her last night.”

Imeria bit back a laugh. The last word she would have used to describe Laya wasagreeable, but the princess wasn’t heartless; she wouldn’t dare defy Imeria, knowing her family’s lives were at stake. “Very well, Yari, I’ll leave you to attend her.”

“Yes, my lady,” she said, and scurried into the main building.

As long as Imeria had Laya under control, she could deal with the other loose ends later. According to Vikal, the Royal Maynaran Guard had yet to track down Eti. The girl’s disappearance was a nuisance, but Imeria needed to worry about the wedding first. To quell the riots in the city, she’d consumed more precioso than she’d anticipated. The drug left her with growing cravings, a lingering headache, and little energy to think of anything else. In the hours following each use, its absence grew harder to ignore. It didn’t help that the vial of precioso shifted along her necklace at the slightest movement. The tiny shards of crystal whispered in her ear like naughty spirits?—more, more, more.

Imeria banished the thought with a sharp exhale. She gazed past the bustle of servants in the courtyard, her eyes landing on the eastern wing. The alchemist was not hiding there, as she had hoped. She remembered the last time she had been inside that building, the same day the eastern wing went up in flames. The memory returned to her in a billow of smoke, crashing into Imeria before she could push it away.

She could still feel the weight of the air inside the guest chamber pressing up against her skin. Beyond the Untulu Sea loomed the threat of a hurricane. The midday sun had baked the tiles in the courtyard outside. The shell-paneled window screens did little to block the wet-season heat, and young Imeria had wanted to open them to filter out the thick, resinous incense the old queen liked to pump into the eastern wing, but they needed to keep the screens drawn for fear of being seen.

Despite the boiling heat, Imeria awoke curled up alongside Duja’s sleeping form, her cheek pressed against the princess’s bare shoulder. Duja was far softer than the earth she wielded. Imeria couldn’t help but nestle closer, even though the princess’s skin felt hot enough to burn.

Beside her, Duja stirred. “Imeria?” she called, her voice sluggish from sleep.

Imeria’s heart leaped at the sound of her name. “Yes?”

Duja yawned and stretched her arms over her head, arching into Imeria’s embrace. Slowly, she rolled onto her side. For a wild moment, Imeria feared what she would find on the princess’s face when she turned around?—apathy? Or worse, disgust? Instead, Duja gazed at her tenderly, her dark eyes free of their usual shields.

“That was foolish of us,” she said, smiling shyly.

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