Page 68 of Black Salt Queen

A humiliated flush crept up Laya’s neck when she realized what the precioso meant. Her mother had wanted the drug for a reason. She hadn’t wanted to step down from the throne as her predecessors had when their tremors grew out of their control. She hadn’t trusted Laya. She had been terrified of her, just as Laya feared.

Imeria understood this. Soon, the rest of the court would too. She took a measured step toward Laya. “Hara Duja was a coward. It’s time for a new sovereign to take her place.” She met Laya’s gaze and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “She didn’t think you were ready, but I do.”

Laya frowned. “Me?”

If Imeria’s plan was for Laya to become queen anyway, why would she have gone through the trouble of staging a coup? Unless...

“I have one condition, though. I believe it will please you.” Imeria’s smile broadened, and she held out her hand. Luntok brushed past Laya to join her. “You will become the queen Maynara needs, Laya. And your betrothed will join you on the throne,” she declared for the entire room to hear.

Laya’s gaze snapped to Luntok, who nodded in encouragement. “You mean?—”

“We will marry,” he told her. “Isn’t that what we always wanted?”

Her heart hammered in her chest. Her gaze trailed down to Luntok’s hands?—the hands that had traced prayers across the length of her spine. The same hands that had held her down in the great hall the previous night.

“Iwantedto marry you,” she said weakly. That had been before?—before Luntok had joined the attack on her family. Before he’d allowed his mother to string her up in chains.

“Hara Duja never would have allowed it, for the same reason she’d never have stepped down from the throne. She’s stubborn, unaware of her own shortcomings,” Imeria said. “Don’t you see? She gave me no choice but to intervene.”

Laya shook her head. She knew what Imeria was doing. She was trying to poison her mind, same as she poisoned the minds of Luntok and Datu Gulod and all the others with whom she conspired. She thought Laya was as weak-willed as them, that she could be swayed by flattery and empty promises.

“I cannot marry Luntok,” she said, and stared him straight in the eye. “I refuse to marry a traitor.” The words echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling of the throne room, loud and damningly clear.

Imeria’s jaw tightened. “What a change in tune from a few days ago,” she said, “when you let my son play you like a lute.”

Laya’s cheeks burned, but she refused to let Imeria humiliate her. “I am not the one who was played.” Defiantly, she met Luntok’s gaze. This time, however, he looked away.

“Oh, child.” Imeria clicked her tongue in pity. “Who do you think engineered the attack on the palace? Who do you think snuck our men through the gap beneath the garden wall?”

A clammy feeling spread across her skin.

“Luntok couldn’t have broken into the palace on his own,” Imeria said. “How generous of you, Laya, to show him the way.”

Laya’s throat constricted. A weight dropped on top of her chest. Years earlier, she’d been the one who’d taught Luntok how to sneak past the palace guard through the tunnel under the wall?—the tunnel that belonged to no one but the pair of them. She had been so sure that he loved her. That he was devoted to no one else. Had he fought to win her heart, knowing he could twist its strings for his own gain? Had he always planned to betray her?

Tears splashed down her front unchecked. Imeria sighed when she noticed. “Remember, no marriage is without flaws. You’ll find a way to forgive him, in time.”

“No,” Laya croaked out. She shook her head, aghast. “You cannot expect me to marry him. Not after this.” She glanced at Luntok with bruised eyes. She had loved him, and he’d betrayed her. How could she be his wife when she couldn’t bear to look at him?

“A Gatdula must sit upon the throne. That is how the gods willed it,” Imeria said with a grim smile. “Believe me, Laya, if I could have chosen any daft highborn girl for a daughter-in-law, I wouldn’t have wasted my energy with you.”

“No. You cannot make me.” Out of instinct, she groped for her powers. Her hands strained against the shackles. It was no use.

Desperate, she whipped around and beseeched the council members, who were watching Laya’s horror unfold before them in silence. “My lords, how do you tolerate this farce?” she cried. “You, who have sworn your loyalty to my family. You, who bowed before my mother, Maynara’s chosen steward. How can you sit there, meek as sheep? How can you fall to your knees before a traitor whom you all hate?”

When no one budged, panic gripped at the base of Laya’s throat. She tried to shame them. “What noble datus you claim to be,” she spat. “You tremble in the face of the enemy. You renege on your blood vows at the first sign of threat. Stay silent if you must. I will fight these traitors on my own, and when I win, I will not forget who betrayed me. I will not forget your groveling or your cowardice. I will?—”

“Enough.”Imeria grabbed her by the chin.

Pain unlike anything Laya had ever endured radiated from her skull. Her own brain had erupted, sending rivers of lava down her spine. She shrieked in agony, as scorching heat flooded her entire body. The taste of rust stung the inside of her mouth. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t beg for mercy. Her vision melted into a white-hot blur. The sound of her wails rang in her ears. Death couldn’t come soon enough. Laya welcomed it. Let her die on her back, screaming. At least she wouldn’t die the wife of a traitor.

The pain lifted for the briefest moment. In the quiet, she sucked in a ragged breath. Darkness circled her like a swarm of vultures. With all her strength, she pushed up against the night. It hammered against her skin, the relentless beating of a thousand wings.

Submit,a monster murmured, its voice a soothing balm against Laya’s torment.Submit, and mercy will be yours.

Never.The defiant thought shot through Laya’s mind without hesitancy. The monster roared and plunged Laya back into the searing flames. As she fought back, the renewed pain pierced deeper. An imagined knife sliced through her flesh, tearing it from the bone in slow, harrowing strips. The monster wanted her to beg. Laya refused. She would last until the monster grew tired of its torture?—maybe then Imeria would kill her.

Between wave after wave of agony, she heard Luntok pleading. He sounded a thousand miles away.“Leave her. Mother, please.”

---