Page 18 of Black Salt Queen

Imeria’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wine goblet. She didn’t want to remember.

She devoted her attention instead to the room before her, cataloging every change the Gatdulas had made since she’d last visited Mariit. She took stock of the new reinforced locks on the windows, their brass dowels gleaming in the afternoon light. She counted the guards posted along the walls, finding that their ranks had nearly doubled over the past two seasons. She studied the palace foundation for the slightest hint of a fault line. But not once did she catch a glimpse of the Maynaran queen.

Imeria hadn’t seen Hara Duja since the end of the procession, which struck her as odd. This was one of the few occasions when the nobles could address her openly. The queen owed them her presence. Imeria knew better than anyone that Duja was infuriatingly stoic. She had never been the type of sovereign to renege on her duties.

“Datu Kulaw,” a man’s voice called. Imeria turned. It was Datu Tanglaw, head of one of the six highborn families and fellow council member. He was a distant cousin of the king and had more daughters than one could consider useful. Bato, his eldest child and sole son, was two years Luntok’s senior. From what Imeria could gather, they were not friends.

“Datu Tanglaw. Been some time, hasn’t it?” Imeria said.

He nodded stiffly. “It has.”

It had been an entire year, in fact, since she’d seen most members of the Maynaran court. The last time Imeria had come to Mariit had been during the feast days the previous year. She had been expected during the Day of the Weeping Goddess, and again during the Fire Moon. Her failure to accept the queen’s invitation had been interpreted as an insult, and the other families had shunned her for her disobedience.

“Will your son be competing in the tournament?” Imeria asked out of courtesy. Datu Tanglaw and his ilk were soulless lackeys who groveled at the Gatdulas’ feet. She couldn’t care less what they did.

“Yes,” Datu Tanglaw said. “And yours?”

She nodded, taking another sip of her drink. Her eyes fell to the center of the room, where, unsurprisingly, Dayang Laya had stolen the court’s attention. She was radiant in her dress, which fell from her shoulders in a luminous cascade of lapis that rivaled the Untulu Sea. Suitors flocked to her like greedy pigeons. Among them Imeria counted Bato Tanglaw, with his unremarkable face the shape of an upside-down arrowhead. She watched as the princess shifted her gaze between suitors, never lingering too long on any man. Bato leaned in to make a joke, which made her chuckle. The princess angled her body toward him as she sent him a coy smile. The other suitors knew her attention to Bato was fleeting, and they had yet to grow discouraged. When Laya opened her mouth, her eyes sparkled with spellbinding confidence. It was no wonder they hung on to every word.

“The princess seems very taken with Bato,” Imeria remarked.

A rare smile spread across Datu Tanglaw’s face. “She certainly does.”

Imeria knew what he was thinking. That his son was a worthy suitor of high birth, and Hara Duja would be happy to marry off one of her precious daughters to a boy like him. But Datu Tanglaw knew nothing about Laya, of her appetites and her wiles, nor the fact that another suitor had already caught her attention.

A new presence ruffled Laya’s flock. It was Luntok, dazzling in court attire of scarlet silk. Rather than greet the others, he planted himself at Laya’s side. They didn’t dare protest the intrusion, but rather parted like waves to make room for him?—as if they knew in some unspoken way that he belonged there.

Imeria smirked and glanced at Datu Tanglaw over the rim of her goblet. “Well,” she said vaguely, “it seems she’s very taken with my son too.”

Datu Tanglaw harrumphed and looked away. He was no longer smiling.

The weight of another’s gaze pulled Imeria from their conversation. She glanced to her left to find a serving girl waiting with a wine pitcher in hand. She looked Imeria in the eye, bolder than any girl of her rank should have dared.

“Care for more refreshment, my lady?” she asked. Her High Maynaran was convincing, but Imeria could detect the choppy lilt of the southern provinces.

She held out her goblet. “Yes, thank you.”

The girl met her gaze again as she poured the wine, and once more over her shoulder when she turned to leave?—a clear signal. Imeria straightened. She waited a tactical moment, exchanging a few more pleasantries with Datu Tanglaw, then excused herself to follow the serving girl to the ladies’ sitting room.

Two women of medium rank had gathered in front of the mirror. Both wore skeletal stacks of gold on their wrists and patterned skirts the shade of seaweed?—a modest imitation of the Gatdulas’ incandescent green. They quieted as she approached. She ignored them and made as though she were straightening her raptor-shaped headpiece, shifting it so the weight of its golden wings lay evenly on either side of her forehead.

“Datu Kulaw,” the woman closest to her said, bowing her head in respect. Imeria recognized her as the wife of an undistinguished nobleman from the north, likely affiliated with the Luma family.

“Yes, that would be my name,” she said, eyeing them coldly. Her message registered as both women gathered their skirts and left the sitting room without question.

Once they left, the serving girl emerged from the shadows in the back of the sitting room. “We’re alone,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve already checked.”

Imeria met her gaze in the glass. The girl might have been lovely if not for her sallow cheeks and sickly pale skin. She was a well-reared girl from the south, but not much to look at?—this was exactly the kind of person Imeria liked to collect. “So, Yari,” she said, “you have information for me.”

Yari nodded, a flush of excitement spreading over her thin cheeks. “It happened only this morning, right after the procession. I saw the general herding a man toward the eastern wing,” she whispered hurriedly. “His guards waited until the other servants were upstairs with the guests. Then they snuck him in through the kitchens. I hid when I heard them coming. They didn’t look like they wanted to be seen.”

Her information made Imeria take pause. The queen was particular about her private affairs, but this reeked of suspicion. What man would Hara Duja try to sneak within the walls of the palace? And why did she want to conceal him?

“This man. What did he look like?” she demanded.

Yari bit her lip. “I’m afraid I didn’t see his face, my lady. He was dressed very strangely.”

“Oh?” Imeria raised her eyebrows. “How was he dressed exactly?”

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