The power to wield mind and flesh was believed to have disappeared generations before Imeria was born. But it lived, a flame born of the brutality and righteous anger that surged in her blood. It was a mere scrap of what she might have possessed had she received the proper training as a child, but maybe it wasn’t too late. Her free hand wandered to the pocket of her skirt, where she kept the vials of precioso hidden.

Soon, she thought to herself. With haunting certainty, she remembered how Hara Duja threatened her with the earthquake earlier that morning. Perhaps it would all come to a head sooner than she realized.

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.