Page 44 of Black Salt Queen

When the last bit of skin was mended, Imeria released her hold on the power. The slightest use drained her. She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Her bones ached.

Luntok groaned as he rolled onto his back. He looked at her, bleary eyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

When he’d been old enough to keep a secret, Imeria decided to show him what she was. He didn’t understand it completely. The Kulaws’ power did not dwell within him.

“Of course I did.” Softening, she ran her fingers through his hair, as she had when he was a little boy. “You fought bravely today, Son.”

“I lost,” he said, stiffening when she kissed him on his forehead.

“You didn’t lose. She stole your victory from you,” Imeria said spitefully. She harbored more than enough rage for the two of them.

“I’d already won.” A moan escaped from him, pitiful and childlike. He wrapped his arms around his middle as if to shield himself from the humiliation.

Imeria continued to stroke his hair. The last of her strength she used to prod at the warring energy she sensed within his skull. She couldn’t read his thoughts, but she could feel the shame and anger and vindictiveness, emotions that crashed into one another like waves.

I know, Son. I know.

She laid her palm flush against his temple. It warmed as she calmed his thoughts into flat, bloodless plains. As her power worked through his mind, he began to relax into the mattress. His eyelids drifted shut.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he slipped out of consciousness.

“Sleep now, darling. I will fix this.” Slowly, gently, she withdrew her hand from his temple and rose from the bed. His head lolled to the side. By the time she reached the doorway, his breathing had steadied. He was fast asleep.

Imeria headed down to the veranda. For the dry season, the night air was abnormally thick with the metallic taste of rain. As she sprawled out on the divan, fanning herself, a servant arrived with a pitcher of rice wine.

“Leave it here,” she said, and served herself.

If Imeria could have wielded her own mind, she would have rid herself of her spite long before. It festered in her blood like venom. Each time she found herself in Mariit, the gilded prison of her childhood, she could think of little else.

She finished her glass in a single gulp and served herself another. The Gatdulas relished humiliating them?—first Imeria, now her son. In her own mother’s eyes, that was the price of mercy. And Imeria had paid dearly.

The servant returned, hovering over her on the veranda. “My lady, a messenger stopped by from the palace.” He presented her with a letter bearing the ancient seal of the Gatdulas.

Curious, Imeria opened the letter and held it to the light. “Oh my,” she murmured. “Have the carriage ready in ten minutes,” she told the servant, sweeping past him on her way back inside. Her fingers tingled with the last traces of the Kulaw power. A power that could do far more than heal shallow wounds.

Tonight.The word echoed in her head, louder than her own heartbeat.

Tonight, she had a meeting with the queen.

Hara Duja didn’t turn around when Imeria was announced. She stood in the center of the great hall. The sconces burning from the tops of the walls illuminated her profile. The queen cast a long shadow, which stretched across the cavernous space.

“Leave us,” the queen said to the guard who had escorted Imeria in. He nodded and left the room. The weighty giltwood doors groaned shut behind him.

They stood in silence for a long moment. Hara Duja was unable to look at her. Imeria fought the urge to fidget. She had never liked this room at night, how the shadows danced across the vaulted ceilings like vengeful spirits. The sandstone tiles, freshly scrubbed, gleamed between them like a desert sea. She cleared her throat, and even so, Duja said nothing.

The room was far too big for the pair of them.

Imeria remembered the last time they’d been alone together in this very room, though she wished she didn’t. She had lost all sense of pride when she’d thrown herself at Duja’s feet.I am loyal. All I’ve ever wanted was to serve you. Please, Duja, don’t send me away.

And Duja had stood there, stone-faced, the same way she was looking at her now.

“Imeria. I’m sorry for what happened today,” she said in a quiet voice. “It was dishonorable. I’ve spoken to Bulan. She will reach out to your son with a formal apology.”

“An apology would be the least you can offer,” Imeria said stiffly as she plucked at the stack of bracelets on her wrists. She did her best to ignore her heart racing. The queen had chosen to be alone with her, knowing full well the danger. However, Imeria couldn’t move too fast, lest she ruin the opportunity. Her best bet was to draw out the conversation. For years, she had dreamed of what she would say when she had a chance to speak to Duja frankly like this. But the decades-old hurt had frozen her tongue. She found herself staring like a fool, struck dumb by the queen’s presence.

“I wish I could offer you more.” Duja looked at her then?—truly looked?—and Imeria saw genuine pain in her eyes.

“Duja...” She hated how her voice suddenly shook. She tore her gaze away, angry tears spilling down her face.

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