Page 60 of Black Salt Queen

Imeria didn’t waver when the goblet and dagger passed to her. She stared at the objects for a long moment before casting her gaze at Hara Duja. There was something different about her eyes?—a savage resolve that warned of danger. Imeria did not bow her head in deference. She did not pull back her pagoda sleeve to drag the dagger across the delicate skin of her wrist. She merely stared, motionless, as the throne room fell into agitated silence.

“I said,” Hara Duja repeated, her voice cold and unbending, “who will serve?”

Imeria looked down at the goblet in her hands, then back at the queen. Slowly, the corners of her lips twisted into a cruel grin. “I’m sorry for this, Duja,” she said, and let the goblet slip from her hands. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The rest of the guests gasped and scuttled back as noble blood spread across the pale tiles.

The ground began to shake. The rivulets of blood trembled as they branched out across the tiles in spidery veins. Hara Duja was livid.“Imeria,”she barked, and took a threatening step toward her.

Imeria didn’t flinch. Before anyone could move, the doors burst open. Footsteps thundered over the tiles as over two dozen warriors stormed into the great hall. They did not wear the golden armor of the royal guard. Over their breastplate, they wore sashes of scarlet silk.Kulaw warriors.

Laya’s mouth fell open.It can’t be.

“No.” Next to the throne, Hara Duja gasped. The ground beneath them lurched as she flung out her hands. Laya stumbled, grasping Bulan’s arm for balance. The tremors halted as quickly as they began. When she looked up, Imeria had her hands pressed to the queen’s face. Hara Duja stood frozen, her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Duja!” the king yelled. He ran for her, halting midlunge. An invisible force froze him in his tracks.

Panic jolted through Laya’s body. She threw out her hand. The air above the throne split into a powerful blast that threw Imeria from the queen.

“Mother!” Laya cried. But Hara Duja didn’t budge. She remained rooted where she stood, staring blankly at the ceiling. Laya’s gut lurched when she noticed the whites of her eyes had disappeared, replaced by twin pools of black. “She’s cursed,” she whispered in disbelief.

“Guards! Attack Imeria’s men!” Bulan bellowed over Laya’s shoulder.

Laya whipped around. General Ojas had yet to return to the great hall. A handful of his men were posted along the sides of the room. They gazed blankly as the scene unfolded, unable to move. They, too, were cursed. She watched their still bodies, fear rising at the back of her throat. No one was coming to rescue them. Laya would have to fend off the intruders alone.

Her heart raced when she glanced back at the horde of warriors advancing into the hall, their scarlet sashes glittering like rubies in the sconce light. The noble guests cried out in indignation, in horror, as they shrank away from the warriors’ menacing blades.

“Shame on you. Shame on all of you,” Datu Luma roared over the chaos. Laya caught sight of his white hair in the throng. He, along with several of the other noblemen, snatched the swords from the hands of the cursed guards. They pushed their way in front of the panicked guests to meet the Kulaw forces. The steel in their borrowed weapons gleamed orange beneath the great hall’s muted light. Their ragged breaths broke the tense silence that swept across the room. None of the cursed guardsmen ran to the nobles’ aid. The Kulaw men outnumbered them, and they were closing in fast.

A towering figure emerged before the scarlet-sashed warriors. Laya recognized his broad shoulders and boxy face from the tournament ring. It was Vikal. “I beg you, Datu Luma, not to act in haste,” he said, his deep voice reverberating across the room. He slid his sword back into its sheath and held out his hand, as if calming a skittish buffalo. “You need only listen. If everyone cooperates, there will be no bloodshed today.”

Laya’s blood ran cold. She understood with a sickening pang what Imeria had brought these men there to do. The rage surged through her veins, sharpening her focus. Whatever power Imeria and her warriors wielded, Laya refused to hand the throne over to her.

“Get back,” she hissed at Bulan.

Bulan blinked, her cheeks gray in shock. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

Laya didn’t wait for her sister to regain her bearings. She grabbed Bulan’s wrist and shoved her behind herself. Without warning, she thrust her palms to the sky. The air in the great hall grew frigid, freezing in Laya’s hold. The threads of energy wound between her fingers. With a desperate cry, she drew her hand downward in a clean slice. The blast ripped from her grip, whistling over the terrified crowd and crashing through the windowpanes.

Screams echoed under the great hall’s soaring ceiling as glass shards rained on their heads. Laya’s blast had knocked down most of the Kulaw warriors, as well as the midnight-feast guests. They tumbled to the glass-strewn tiles, groaning.

Laya’s gaze shifted to the exit. Her blast had cleared a path straight through the Kulaw warriors. If they hurried, they could flee the palace. To stay was suicide; they couldn’t fend off Imeria alone. Out there, they’d find Ojas, or maybe rally their allies in the city.

She reached back and shook Bulan. “Grab Mother and Father. We need to run.”

“No, Laya. You’re not going anywhere,” a cold voice cried. Imeria planted herself in their path. She stared at Laya, her jaw clenched in determination. Laya’s previous blast had knocked her raptor headpiece askew. A thin line of blood streamed down her cheek from where a glass shard had nicked her.

“You,”Laya hissed. Her heart hammered in her chest when she met Imeria’s gaze. She didn’t hesitate. She raised her arm once more above her head, where the threads of energy swirled in wild, raging currents. They shot down to her hands, wrapping around her fingers like knotted rope. If she concentrated, she could summon a tornado that would fling Imeria Kulaw to some faraway ditch, where she and her infernal powers belonged.

Laya sucked in a breath, hatred sharpening her vision. But as she started tugging at the threads, someone yanked her arm back. Her concentration broke, along with her grasp on the air above.

“Get off!” she screamed, then fell silent when she saw who had grabbed her.

Pain contorted Luntok’s face, his smooth, handsome face, which, less than a day before, had shone with nothing but love for her. The Luntok that stood before her was a stranger. She felt no tenderness in his embrace. The hands restraining her were rough. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears. A sour chill oozed down her spine when she realized what those tears meant. That Laya had been a fool. She’d believed him. She’d given her heart to him. And now?—

Luntok had betrayed her.

“It’s over,” he said, his voice hard.

“Let me go.” She thrashed in his grip, but he held fast.

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