Page 55 of Black Salt Queen

“We ought to maintain the element of surprise as long as possible. It is our biggest advantage.” Luntok leaned over the table, the muscles in his cheeks pulled taut. Heknewsomething?—something they could use to their advantage?—but why wasn’t he sharing it?

“Datu Kulaw could take out the guards posted on the outer wall. Then we could climb the gates,” Vikal said tentatively, even though they all knew it was a terrible idea.

“No.We absolutely are not doing that.” Roughly, Luntok brushed his hair away from his face. He reached for Imeria’s wineglass and swallowed its contents in a single gulp. Then he turned toward his mother, his brow furrowed in turmoil.

Ah.She understood now; this was about Laya.

Luntok knew that if he betrayed Laya’s family, he risked losing her love forever. Imeria had made her choice long before. As for her son?—maybe he’d convinced himself there was a path to Laya that didn’t begin with treachery. Luntok may have coveted the throne?—and the right to kingship of which the Gatdulas had robbed him?—but Laya was the only prize he’d ever wanted.

Imeria yearned to reach out and calm the warring thoughts in his head. Instead, she prodded him. “Tell us, Son. What do you mean?”

“No one is climbing the walls.” Luntok kept his lips tight, as if to seal himself from the storm waging inside him. Imeria’s heart rate quickened as she watched the thoughts settle in his eyes. Finally, Luntok understood. Fate had only ever given him one path. Now was his chance to carve it straight to the throne, to justice for the south, to the princess who belonged to him. Laya had been his tipping point, the sole force strong enough to blow him over the razor’s edge. Having her was the one battle he couldn’t bear to lose.

Luntok centered himself, laying his palms flat against the table. He sat in jaw-clenching silence as he made peace with his decision. He did not speak until he let out a last, shaky breath.

“The way is under, not over,” he said, meeting Imeria’s gaze with damning certainty. “And I can get us in.”

Twenty

Duja

The door to Ariel’s workshop was half-open when Duja strode into the eastern wing. As she walked down the corridor, her nostrils filled with the sharp, acidic smell of vinegar. She stopped before the wainscoted wall lining the hall, where she glimpsed herself in the mirror. Duja wore her finest skirt, a voluminous balloon of viridian silk that billowed with every step. Her headpiece weighed heavily atop her hair, a magnificent crown of gold plates shooting out from her temples like sunrays. A handmaid had added some charcoal to her eyelids and a touch of rouge to her lips. She looked majestic; she felt like a fraud.

High Shaman Maiza had arrived early for the midnight feast and headed straight to Duja’s chambers for a healing session. The sorcery had worked; her muscles felt loose, and her fingers were free of tremors. Duja hoped the enchantments would last until the end of the ceremony. She couldn’t allow herself to appear weak before the Council of Datus, and especially not this night.

Maiza’s enchantments were effective, but unpredictable and weak. Duja needed a solution more potent than such petty sorcery allowed. For the first time in years, the solution lay within reach.

With a deep breath, Duja pushed the door open. Ariel was sitting at the table in the center of the workshop, a magnifying glass in hand. He held the glass to the tray before him, muttering to himself in Orfelian, his eyes glued to its contents. He did not notice Duja standing over his shoulder until she cleared her throat.

“Good evening, Dr. Sauros.”

Ariel jumped to his feet and whipped around. His eyes widened in awe when he caught sight of Duja in full ceremonial dress. “Oh my?—I mean, good evening, Your Majesty.”

The corners of Duja’s mouth curled up into a shy smile. “Don’t worry, Ariel. I suspect we’ll have you fitted for your own court attire soon,” she said, peering into the tray before him. “Would that be the precioso?”

Ariel nodded and gestured for her to come closer. “I’m monitoring it for now, but it looks like the precioso will be fully set in a few hours. Would you like to see?”

A jolt of excitement wound through Duja. She swept over to the edge of the table and leaned over the tray. The precioso lay in a dozen crystal bars of varying lengths, the smallest no bigger than her thumb and the largest measuring from the tip of her pointer finger to her wrist. The bars were as clear as glass. Duja marveled at how the light changed as it skated across their smooth edges and jagged tips.

“I didn’t know a drug could be this beautiful,” she said, resisting the urge to run her fingers over the bars’ surfaces.

“Precioso doesn’t always look like this. It’s rare for one to produce a sample of such pure quality,” Ariel said. Duja thought she heard a faint note of pride in his voice.

“Well, then. I shall consider myself lucky to have one of the best precioso makers under my employ,” Duja said as she appraised the Orfelian. Her brother was blessed to have found him. Ariel must have spent a great deal of time with Pangil. It made her curious. “You’ve been in my brother’s company. Is he well? Truly?” she asked.

Is my brother a better man?Duja yearned to know, but she didn’t dare ask Ariel that.

“The precioso has aided him. He lives without pain, healthier than many men his age. His tremors don’t trouble him as they used to. He can wield his powers without endangering himself and those around him. But I have warned him regarding overuse, as I’ve warned you, Your Majesty,” Ariel said. He never gave a dishonest answer. Duja liked that about him.

“I know, and I promise to heed your warnings,” Duja said, nodding. At least once a day, her husband continued to caution her about precioso, citing grim anecdotes from his research. Both he and Ariel made it abundantly clear that precioso was not the answer to all her prayers. Duja wasn’t looking for one. If she could control her powers for a few more years, she’d have enough time?—time to prepare Laya for her duties. Time to iron out any misgivings the court held about her daughter’s rule.

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the cupboards. Two hours until midnight?—she needed to make her way to the great hall soon.

He followed her gaze. “Ah, yes. They are probably expecting you at the midnight feast.”

“Correct,” Duja said. She straightened, smoothing out the creases in her skirt. “I suppose Hari Aki has already informed you about the guests we will be receiving tonight.”

“I’m well aware, Your Majesty, and rest assured that no one will know I’m here. And it was, um, Dayang Laya who warned me,” he added as he braced his weight against the side of the table.

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