“Mother, I don’t know what to do. I cannot bear it.” She leaned against Duja as if she no longer had the strength to hold herself up. Her body shook so violently, Duja stared at her in alarm.

“Come now. Everything will be all right.” Duja brushed the tangled waves from Laya’s face. As much as she hated to see her daughter in pain, she could not deny the warmth that spread through her chest as she held her. How long had it been since they’d embraced each other like this?

“Everything is ruined,” Laya said between ragged sobs. “Everything is ruined, and I can do nothing about it.”

Duja pursed her lips. “Is this about Luntok?”

At the sound of his name, Laya let out a pitiful wail. “He refused to speak to me after the tournament. I know I shouldn’t, but I sent for him. And because of what Bulan did, he hates me. He will never come again.”

The tension in Duja’s shoulders receded. She was relieved to hear that Luntok was keeping his distance, but she didn’t dare tell Laya so. “He could never hate you,” she said, which was the truth. Imeria hadn’t lied earlier in the throne room. Luntok was obsessed with Laya, and Laya returned his infatuation. But Duja ought to have warned her that to tangle oneself with a Kulaw was dangerous.

Laya drew back and gazed at Duja, her eyes wide in watery hope. “If there was a way for us to be together⁠—truly together this time . . .”

Duja’s heart lurched. “Oh, Laya.”

She couldn’t indulge her. She couldn’t go down this road again.

Laya heard the resignation in her tone and grasped her hands, begging, “Please, Mother. I know you hate Imeria, but Luntok is different. He would never harm me . . . or anyone else. If you would allow him⁠—”

“No, Laya, I cannot allow that,” Duja said, more harshly than she intended.

“Mother, please.” Fresh tears spilled out of the corners of Laya’s eyes. Duja knew her daughter and her wily tricks. Knew how skillfully she could feign heartbreak, just to cajole others into doing her bidding. But these were true tears. And this was raw pain⁠—Duja knew because she had felt it once herself.

She wanted to comfort Laya the way she’d wished to be comforted. Instead, she gave her shoulders a firm shake. “You have no idea the danger these people pose to our family.”

Laya’s brow furrowed. “What sort of danger?” she asked. “I can marry Luntok without reviving any sort of ancestral blood­right. Don’t tell me you actually believe in those stupid myths.”

Except they weren’t mere myths. Magic did lie dormant in the noble bloodlines. And the Gatdulas were no longer the only ones with divine powers. Fear pierced her body at the reminder. Imeria Kulaw, wielder of mind and flesh.