Imeria wondered to what extent she could spin their outrage in the Kulaws’ favor. She had invited Vikal and Gulod that evening to hear their thoughts about the matter. Luntok was supposed to attend the meeting, but she had sent him to the palace first. Imeria knew he would take his time with Laya, but it was nearing midnight. He should have returned hours earlier.

The front gate swung open. Luntok’s long, lonely shadow appeared, splitting the yellow lantern light that illuminated the veranda. He slammed the gate behind him and trudged inside, his uneven footsteps echoing across the cobbled pathway. His shoulders were hitched up to his ears, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He dragged his feet as if he were drunk, but Imeria knew he was not. She saw from the pain in his eyes and the tight muscles in his jawline that Luntok was tormented.

Imeria waved him over. “Come, darling. Join us.”

He obeyed, barely acknowledging the other men at the table when he slouched into his seat. “So, have you decided?” he asked in a flat voice.

She frowned. “Decided what?”

“How you’re going to destroy them.” Luntok’s gaze snapped to hers. Beneath his stone-faced calm, he was furious⁠—but Imeria could not tell at whom the anger was directed.

Luntok had barely spoken to Imeria since his loss during the tournament. She’d distanced herself to give him the space to lick his wounds, the ones inside, which Imeria couldn’t heal. The one time they had spoken, he’d asked how she planned to take down the Gatdulas, which surprised Imeria. Sneaking in and out of the palace was one thing, but Luntok had never played an active role in Imeria’s schemes. He loved Laya too much, and the rift between their families confused him. For a long time, Imeria had kept him in the dark, thinking it would spare him the guilt.

But now, Luntok stared at her with an expression of stony resolve. This was not the same version of her son who’d gaped moon-eyed after Laya, the princess he thought would one day fall within his reach.

“You’re contentious tonight,” Imeria said. “Is there a reason for this change?”

Luntok exhaled sharply through his nostrils. “I’ve learned something, Mother. The Gatdulas will grant us neither love nor victory, even when it’s earned. If we want anything in this swamp of a city, we’ll have to steal it on our own.” He met her gaze and, in a low voice, added, “I think this is what you’ve been trying to tell me all along.”

Imeria glanced at Vikal, who was staring at Luntok intently. After years spent ignoring her warnings, her son finally understood.

“You asked how we will destroy them,” she said. She held his gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I suppose that depends on what you’ve brought me.”