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.”