Laya cut him off with a harsh laugh. “Go on, then, Orfelian. You would not know the first thing about Mulayri’s power. All this talk of the rest of the world, you speak like an enslaved man.”

Ariel’s gaze snapped to hers. “You dare speak to me of enslavement?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice.

“What else are we to speak of? It’s all your people know,” Laya said, raising her chin. She was accustomed to hurling cruel words at anyone who dared challenge her. Less often did they throw their own cruel words back.

Ariel threw his pen down, splattering ink trails across the sheets of paper. Behind his spectacles, his eyes bulged with anger.

“And what do you know of Orfelia, sitting up here in your palace?” Ariel said, his cheeks reddening with each sentence. “For centuries, my people have fought for freedom. We penned pamphlets. We rallied the resistance. And my friends⁠—these uncultured imbeciles, as you regard them⁠—they could not carve out islands from the ocean floor. They could not summon the wrath of the skies at their fingertips. Their power was but a dream, and they died for it.” Fury flashed in his sharp, scholarly eyes. He jumped to his feet, the legs of his chair scraping across the floorboards. “Tell me, Dayang, what kind of mindless slave would risk their life for that?”

His words rang out across the room, which suddenly felt too small for the pair of them. Ariel fell silent, bracing his weight against the edge of the desk. His shallow breaths filled the study. Laya didn’t dare speak. She stared up at him in astonishment, her mind reeling from his impassioned words. Of all the information she had hoped to wheedle from the Orfelian, this was not what she’d expected him to confess.

Ariel flushed as he caught his breath. He sat back down, horrified. “I⁠—I apologize, Dayang,” he said quietly, shifting his eyes to his lap. “I should not have lost my temper. You meant no disrespect.”

She blinked as she gazed back at him in awe, momentarily struck speechless. His candidness caught her off guard. Laya’s cheeks heated, not in rage, but in shame. She cleared her throat. “No, Ariel, I am the one who should apologize. I meant every disrespect. And that was wrong of me.”

Ariel’s outburst hung heavy in the air; in comparison, her words came out thin, feeble. Inadequate. Rarely did she admit fault, and miraculously, the Orfelian had startled an apology out of her.

His eyes flitted back to hers in shock. “You aren’t angry?”

Laya shook her head. No, she wasn’t angry. Her skin prickled as the damned spark burst through her once again.