Imeria didn’t want to think of her late husband, who had been a good man. For a time, he almost made her feel whole again after Duja had ripped her from her life. He was kind and just and sweet, but not sweet enough to make Imeria swallow her bitterness. “That’s not why you wanted me to marry him,” she spat. “You thought he was barren.”

Her late husband, Luntok’s father, had had two wives before he married Imeria and no children of his own. Duja could present as many arguments as she liked, but Imeria knew the truth. Duja feared the resurgence of the Kulaws’ power. She did not want Imeria to pass it on to her own kin.

Duja’s lips flattened into a line. She did not deny it. “I thought it would be better this way,” she said simply.

Imeria’s mouth hung open in disbelief. Better? She wanted to rip the hair from Duja’s head. Slash the gold from her collar.

Run her fingers over the tender skin where her shoulder met her neck.

It didn’t have to be this way.

“I married him because I wanted to please you,” she said as she wept. “I’d have done whatever you asked. I . . .”

She had been in love with her, but gods be blessed, Duja didn’t let her say it.

“I know. I never should have doubted your devotion. I truly am sorry.” A shade of sorrow passed over Duja’s face⁠—something akin to regret.

Something Imeria could use.

“If you truly regret what happened, Duja, perhaps you might consider this,” she said, wiping her cheeks on her sleeve. Her tears stained the silk, but she didn’t care.

“What is it?” Duja asked.

In one wild moment, Imeria forgot her treasonous plans. She reached for the queen’s wrist and felt the rapid pulse beneath. Push me away, she willed her, but Duja didn’t. Her fingers tightened around her wrist, just in case. She could have dug her claws into the queen’s mind. Could have seized the opportunity dangling above her very nose. Instead, she lowered her voice to a desperate whisper. “Please, Duja. Let them have what we could not.”

Duja’s hand twitched in hers. Her eyes snapped open, watery and bleak. Imeria had bared her heart to Duja the same way twenty-two years before, the last time they’d been alone in the throne room. Was Duja also thinking about the life she might have had, had she opened her heart in return?

“I cannot,” she said in a cracked voice. “You know why I cannot.”

Imeria had not come here to beg, but she begged anyway. “Please. Luntok is no threat to you. He loves your daughter. I can see it. As do you.”