Page 91 of Black Salt Queen

“Your men are outnumbered, Imeria. You’ve lost!” Laya taunted, her voice echoing over the clamor of the battle raging on the cliffs.

Duja’s heart hammered. How was Imeria still alive? Desperate, she whirled around. Imeria was back on her feet, and she was making her way to her daughter. Duja lunged in Laya’s direction. She was too far. Imeria got to her first.

“Stupid girl.” Imeria let out a sharp, hollow laugh. “You know nothing of loss.” Before Laya could blast her back, Imeria grabbed her by the throat.

Laya fell to her knees with an earsplitting shriek. Duja stared, helpless, as Imeria sent tides of pain surging through her daughter’s skull. At the sound of the princess’s screams, the battle ground to an abrupt halt.

“Dayang!”a deep voice yelled?—Ojas. Duja saw him standing several feet away, not far from the edge of the cliffs. He thrust his sword into the belly of his opponent. The Kulaw warrior fell to the ground with a moan. Ojas leaped over his body as he rushed to Laya’s aid.

Across the cliffs, several other royal guardsmen followed suit. They ran to Laya, but before they could reach her, each and every one of them froze in their tracks.

Duja’s stomach knotted in dread. Imeria hadn’t kept her word.The precioso.

An eerie quiet overtook the cliffs. Laya’s storm clouds dispersed across the horizon. All around, the Gatdulas’ most loyal guardsmen froze where they stood. The whites of their eyes turned black as they fell prey to Imeria’s curse. The silence broke as swords thudded against the blood-soaked grass. One by one, they surrendered their weapons.

Duja met Imeria’s eyes. The other woman’s palms were raised to the heavens. A breeze swept in from the sea and ruffled Imeria’s skirts. She stood there calmly, a buoy drifting amidst the rolling chaos. She returned the queen’s gaze, head cocked to the side, as if she were inviting her to make the first move.

“What will it be, Duja? I have your daughter,” Imeria called to her. But Duja could hear no wrath in her voice. Imeria sounded tired.

“Not Laya.Please,” Duja pleaded, desperate.

“She killed him.” Her voice cracked. “She killed Luntok.”

Duja looked around helplessly. Laya was stock-still at Imeria’s right. Beside her stood Ojas, his sword arm frozen midstrike. Dozens of the Gatdulas’ allies were caught in Imeria’s curse. And Duja could do nothing to save them?—nothing except run.

“She killed my boy,” Imeria said, her shoulders shaking with repressed sobs.

A stone dropped in Duja’s stomach. “The fault is mine. Take me,” she begged.

Imeria’s fine features contorted in pain. She didn’t say a word. She stood as frozen as the guardsmen flanking her.

Duja let out a shallow breath and held out her hand. “Come,” she said. “Too many have died. I am the one you want.”

“No,” Imeria whispered, shaking her head.

“Takeme,” Duja said again, her voice carrying in the wind. “Please, my heart.”

The other woman swayed on her feet. A gentle gale sailed over the cliffs, whooshing through the blades of grass. Duja could still peer into Imeria Kulaw’s heart, even after all this time. She may be a monster, but not even she could stomach mindless bloodshed. Not when her victory had been stolen from her. Not when both families had lost so much. If she wanted to avenge her son, so be it. Out of the hundreds of souls frozen on the Black Salt Cliffs, there was only one life she wanted.

After a moment of tortured deliberation, Imeria lowered her hands. She steeled her shoulders and straightened her back. “If that is your wish,” she said, her voice constricted.

Imeria limped toward Duja in slow, measured steps. She clutched her side, wincing; she may have survived Duja’s blow, but not without a couple of broken ribs. As she approached, she freed the men she passed from her power. They pitched forward, falling to their knees, groaning as they regained their senses.

“My lady!” Vikal called from across the cliffs. His blood-drenched sword fell limply to his side. He stared after Imeria in shock. “What on earth are you doing?”

But Imeria didn’t answer him. She took Duja’s arm. “Let us end this,” she agreed.

At her side, Bulan let out an indignant cry. “Mother, where are you?—”

“Take care of your sisters,” Duja said, her throat tightening. She tore her gaze away from Bulan’s questioning eyes. Then she flexed her fingers and clawed deep into the earth. It rose beneath her and Imeria’s feet, before shooting off into a rippling wave that carried them away.

Duja transported them far from the Black Salt Cliffs. Paths so high above Mariit were scarce, but she didn’t need them to ascend to the mountaintop. She wielded the earth over the rolling foothills, weaving between the moss-coated boulders and whistling riverbeds and flowering pine trees, all the way to the summit of Mount Matabuaya. At the top of the mountain, several hundred feet above the capital city, lay a lake. It was small, not even a mile wide, and it was born from the crater below the rugged gray ledges that formed the mountain’s jawlike peak.

She released the earth at the edge of the lake, where it settled back beneath the surface with a shuddering groan. Imeria, who had been clutching Duja’s arm tightly, fell to her knees. She lay there, panting, as she caught her breath.

Duja didn’t look at her. She stooped low and laid her hand atop the lake’s smooth, glass-like surface. Her fingers trembled as she dug deep, the precioso thrumming dimly through her veins. The summit vibrated as she carved out a tiny island at the center of the lake. She gave a last tug, and a slender strip of land sprang out from the island to the lake’s edge, sending ripples across the water’s surface?—a footbridge.

“What on earth...,” Imeria murmured.

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