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Back Black Salt Queen Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Praise for
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. City of Mariit: Capital of Maynara Map
  5. One
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Two
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Three
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Four
  31. By Order of General Ojas,On Behalf of Her Majesty Hara Duja
  32. Twenty-Three
  33. Twenty-Four
  34. Twenty-Five
  35. Twenty-Six
  36. Twenty-Seven
  37. Twenty-Eight
  38. Twenty-Nine
  39. Thirty
  40. Thirty-One
  41. Thirty-Two
  42. Thirty-Three
  43. Five
  44. A Coronation Prayer
  45. Thirty-Four
  46. Epilogue
  47. Acknowledgments
  48. Thank You
  49. About the Author
  50. Violetear Books x Bindery Books

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Bulan said. But her confidence from the start of the fight had long since faded, and doubt crept into her tone.

“Dramatic?” Laya let out a spiteful laugh. “You could have killed him.”

She waited for another retort, but her sister said nothing. After a long, painful moment, Bulan walked away. Her footsteps echoed as she stalked across the platform. The crowd had no cheers for her, no applause. Only stunned silence.

Laya didn’t watch her sister leave. She could not tear her gaze away from Luntok. He stirred feebly in her arms. Fear bubbled up in the back of her throat as she wrapped her arms around him. She bit back tears as she wiped the blood from his swollen lips.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

My love. My only love.

Luntok stirred again but did not try to speak. Laya held him until the crowd emptied from the stands and the pit. She held him until the beating drums and thunderous cheers faded to deafening silence. She would have held him for hours longer, but then the curtain of night fell over Mariit. With the moon came a unit of healers with their potions and dressings. They waved her off, impatient, as they hoisted Luntok onto a stretcher. Laya’s throat constricted as she wavered, alone on the platform. She had no choice but to watch him go.

Sixteen

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Imeria

“I have failed you, Mother,” Luntok slurred as she helped him into bed. He was under the influence of the sleeping draft the healers gave him to ease the pain. They had stitched him up the best they could with their prayers and petty sorcery, but Imeria could do better.

He groaned as she eased him onto his side and, as lightly as she could, undid the bandages on his back. The cut that awful Gatdula girl gave him was shallow, but it would scar if Imeria didn’t act quickly. Her hand hovered over the wounded flesh. She closed her eyes as she reached deep into the blood, deep into herself, grasping for the power she had long been forced to hide.

The power greeted her like an old friend. It wove itself into the space between her fingers and Luntok’s wound. The skin on the edges, cut cleanly by Bulan’s blade, glowed. At her coaxing, it sealed itself shut.

“Tickles,” Luntok murmured into the pillow.

“Hush.” She needed all her concentration if she wanted to finish healing him.

Her forebears would not have blinked twice at such an injury. They once wielded power far greater than the Gatdulas could have imagined. That power was lost generations before; it died alongside the Kulaws’ shamans and their sacred texts. And the Gatdulas, who thought themselves their saviors, rejoiced as they marched all the way south to Thu-ki and watched everything the Kulaws built burn.