“Not the gods,” she mused aloud. She could feel the threads of power in the earth beneath her feet, even if she couldn’t wield it. She could sense someone on the other end, struggling to tug back control. If the queen had allowed her heir into the council room as she had promised, Laya would know for herself what was going on. She thought of her mother’s worsening tremors. Occasional lapses in control were to be expected in a Gatdula of Hara Duja’s age, but there was something about this earthquake⁠—a wild, defiant energy weaving its way through the threads⁠—that caught Laya’s attention. She glanced at the eastern wing, where Ariel Sauros lurked out of sight of the nobles behind the closed window screens. What else was her mother not telling her?

“Sorry, Dayang?” Waran eyed her, confused.

Laya glanced back down and realized she hadn’t let go of his arm. She gestured to the gardens with her free hand. “Care to escort me inside?”

He grinned broadly and inclined his head. “It would be my honor, Dayang.”

They started down the main path, where began the tour. The palace opened its gardens once a year, and Hari Aki did not spare any expense. For weeks, he had been enlisting horticulturists and architects to revive the parts of the garden he deemed dull or uninspired. Laya wished she had half her father’s vision. Mere steps into the gardens, and she was dumbstruck. For as far as she could see, flowers bloomed in patterns too complex for her mind to decipher. Marigold and carmine and cerulean, and other shades too lovely to be named, swirled together in a visual feast. Her nose flooded with the flowers’ scents, sweet and nectarous, as yellow sunlight streamed through the swaying palms above.

None of that would last⁠—none of it. But for a moment, Laya, delighted by the gardens’ ephemeral beauty, forgot the secrets plaguing her.

“You are awfully quiet today, Dayang. Have I said something to upset you?” Waran asked as they reached the fountain at the end of the main path. Jets spouted from the open jaws of the golden crocodile perched at the heart of the white-jade basin.

“Not at all, Waran. I have a lot on my mind.” Laya leaned against the mouth of the basin and dipped her hand into the water. The liquid was cool against her fingers. She cupped the water in her hands and let it fall back into the basin, watching rings ripple across its clear surface.

Waran leaned on the edge of the fountain beside her. “Forgive my boldness, Dayang, but please know I am here if ever you’re in search of a confidant.”

Laya looked up to find Waran eyeing her hopefully as he inched too close for her liking. Not him too. “You’re very kind, Waran,” she said, feigning a smile.