Page 67 of Black Salt Queen

“Let me go!”

Like a wild animal, she thrashed and kicked and dug her nails into whatever skin she could reach. She threatened their lives and the lives of their families. She cursed them and called them traitors. Nothing she said fazed them. They half dragged, half carried her downstairs to the great hall.

“My lord,” Vikal said as he deposited Laya gracelessly on the floor.

“I told you to begentlewith her.”

“Fetch her yourself next time, then.”

“Laya?” Luntok’s voice cracked so sincerely, her gaze snapped to his. He was kneeling beside her, his brow furrowed in concern.

“You wished to see me,” she said between labored breaths.

Luntok brushed the sweaty strands away from her face. She knew his touch too well to flinch. “There’s something we would like to discuss with you,” he said as he helped her to her feet.

She didn’t understand it?—the shade of hope she heard in his voice. Her gaze shifted over his shoulder to the crowd gathered toward the back of the hall. The guests of the midnight feast were still there?—the Council of Datus and their closest kin?—all surrounded by armed guards who wore sashes of scarlet silk. She saw Datu Luma, a shock of blood crusting over his white hair. Datu Tanglaw, ashen-faced, with Bato seated silently beside him. Their eyes were downcast. They didn’t dare look up when Laya arrived. They, too, were prisoners.

“What is this?” she asked in a low voice.

“Laya, pet, come closer. We’ve called this meeting expressly for you.” Before the throne stood Imeria Kulaw, with beady-eyed Datu Gulod at her side. Laya’s gut twisted. The traitor. Had he been working with her the entire time?

“The queen,” Laya demanded as the blood turned to ice in her veins. “What have you done to her?”

“Your mother is fine. If you cooperate, you may see her. Now come, child.” Imeria beckoned to her once more.

“Don’t toy with me.” Laya’s voice shook and her hands balled into fists. “Where are they, Imeria? What have you done with the rest of my family?”

“Laya, please,” Luntok begged. He placed a hand on her back, nudging her forward. The heat of his palm radiated through the thin silk of her dress. She recoiled. He would never touch her again?—she vowed it.

“Get off.”Laya swung her bound wrists over her shoulder as if she were wielding a bamboo rod. The brass shackles crashed into the side of his face with a loud crack.

Luntok stumbled back with a gasp, rubbing his cheek.“Laya,”he hissed. She hadn’t struck hard enough to break any bones, but one of the notches on her shackles had caught his mouth. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of his lips to his chin.

By the throne, someone coughed. Laya glanced over. Datu Gulod’s beady eyes glimmered. He was biting back a chuckle.

“Stop this. Now.” Imeria had lost her patience. She cast Laya a withering glare. “Do I have to ask again, or are you ready to talk civilly?”

“You.”Laya rushed toward her in a rage. “You have attacked my family. Imprisoned me in my own home. Betrayed the crown. How dare you lecture me on civility?”

But Imeria didn’t shrink back. She answered her calmly. “I understand this must all be a shock to you. Before you tire yourself out, can I ask you a question?”

“You already have.”

Imeria’s eyes flitted to hers. She cocked her head to the side. “Aren’t you ready to be queen?”

Laya faltered. She sought answers in Imeria’s face, but her expression betrayed nothing. “I don’t understand.”

Imeria gazed upon her with pity. “Laya, child, don’t tell me your mother kept it a secret from you?”

She stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

A wry grin spread across Imeria’s face. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and retrieved something small and clear, no bigger than Laya’s thumb. “Precioso,” Imeria explained, holding it out for Laya to see. “It’s worth more than gold, this substance?—the key to immeasurable power. Hara Duja wanted it to keep the tremors at bay. According to my sources, she sought out an alchemist to produce it for her?—one of the finest makers of precioso in the world, by the looks of it.”

Laya stared at Imeria. Her thoughts raced as she began to piece the information together. Images flashed through her mind. The furtive glances her mother gave over her shoulder as she snuck away from the dawn feast. Ariel’s sudden appearance in the eastern wing. The peculiar smell of vinegar wafting from his borrowed clothes. He hadn’t come to Maynara to be Laya’s Salmantican tutor at all. No, he?—

“You truly don’t know anything about it,” Imeria said, amused by the shock etched across Laya’s face.

“No,” she said hoarsely. “I truly don’t.”

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