Page 20 of Black Salt Queen

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“Rumors?” She let out a dry laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate.”

He kissed down to her shoulder, and she sighed in contentment. “There have been stories?—of strange men smuggled inside the palace,” he said, his breath dancing across her collarbone. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything to do with that.”

His question struck her as oddly specific. Had she been of sounder mind, she might have thought to question him. But Laya’s need for him burned stronger than any ember of suspicion she might have harbored.

“Are you suggesting I smuggle all kinds of strange men into my bed?” Laya asked airily. With a long finger, she traced the column of tattoos on his back. The muscles in his shoulders tensed as he suppressed a shiver.

“Are you suggesting there are other men?” He parted her thighs and stroked between them. She gasped in spite of herself. His smirk widened.

“Oh, Luntok.” She sighed once more as waves of pleasure rippled through every inch of her body. “You know there are no other men for me.”

Luntok fell silent. Laya closed her eyes, horrified. Damn the wine?—she wished the bed would swallow her whole after this rare display of vulnerability.

Luntok withdrew his hand. She whined in protest, but he kissed her, swallowing her complaint. “I truly have heard things,” he whispered against her lips. “Foreigners hidden within the palace walls.”

“Mindless gossip,” Laya said, shaking her head. She curled her legs around his hips and rocked against him. A noise like a desperate snarl rose in the back of Luntok’s throat. She reached for him, helped him slip back inside. That effectively put an end to the subject.

“I want you,” he said, breathing raggedly as they settled into their usual rhythm.

Laya wrapped her arms around his neck. Silent promises didn’t count for much, but they were the best she could give him.You have me, Luntok,she vowed in her head.Tonight, you have me.

She awoke with an incessant pounding in her skull and the flutter of someone else’s breath against the side of her neck. Slowly, Laya opened her eyes. Across the room, yellow light streamed in through the open window. Outside the hall, she heard the dim chatter of servants on their way to their posts. She yawned. The inside of her mouth was dryer than volcanic ash. As she reached for the pitcher of water at her bedside table, Luntok’s arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her back to the mattress.

“Morning,” he mumbled against the pillows.

“Good morn?—” Laya began to say when she caught herself.

It was morning. Luntok slept the night at the palace.Luntok shouldn’t be here.

Panic surged through Laya when she realized their error. Why did they have to drink so much at the feast? She bolted out of bed and shrugged on her dressing robe. “You need to leave before someone sees you,” she told him as she fished around the sheets for his clothes.

Luntok sat up and rubbed his eyes. “At least give me a moment to wake up first.”

“No time.” Any second now, a maid would knock at her door, summoning her for breakfast. Laya plucked Luntok’s trousers from the foot of the bed and threw them at him. They hit him squarely across the face.

“For Mulayri’s sake, Laya,” Luntok said, annoyed. He grabbed his trousers and yanked them on over his legs.

Before he turned toward the balcony, Laya saw the disappointment flash in his expression. Gone was the softness of the previous night. The girl who stood before him, impatient to push him out the window, was the version of Laya who paraded about the court, haughty and unmoved.

Good.Laya brushed aside the guilt. The more she disappointed him, the faster he would leave.

She watched him, impatient, as Luntok finished dressing. He avoided looking at her as he headed to the balcony. In the terse silence, his words from the night before returned to her. They rang out, clear as a gong, piercing through her drunken haze?—foreigners hidden within the palace. Laya frowned. She thought back to her mother’s brisk walk through the courtyard, of the nervous glances she’d cast over her shoulder as she hurried to the eastern wing.

Hara Dujahadmet with someone in secret during the dawn feast. Someone in the palace must have told Luntok about it?—but who?

Laya hung back to study the back of his head. His dark hair was mussed from sleep. The faint scratches she’d etched into his shoulder blades glowed dully in the morning sun. As she watched him, her stomach turned. Luntoklovedher. He had never lied to her before.

He didn’t look at her as he swung one leg over the balustrade. She grabbed the collar of his vest to stop him. “Luntok, wait.”

“What is it?” He looked up at her.

Laya tried to ignore the glimmer of hope in his gaze and forced her face into a neutral expression. “What was it you said last night?” she asked. “About those strange men smuggled inside the palace?”

The shades swung shut over Luntok’s eyes, which, mere hours earlier, burned with nothing but love for her. “Oh, that,” Luntok said. He stared back at her stonily?—a challenge if Laya ever saw one. “It was just something I overheard.”

Lies,she wanted to scream. Questions fought their way to her mouth, but pride kept Laya from asking any of them. Most days, she relished the competitive undercurrent that pulsed between them, making every interaction feel like a dangerous game. That was what drew her to him when they were younger. Unlike the other noble children, who groveled in response to Laya’s taunts and cruelty, Luntok was willing to match her.

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