“Imeria, are you truly considering this?” Gulod asked. Imeria ignored him, staring at the swirling patterns etched across the table’s surface. When she didn’t answer, he threw up his hands in exasperation. “For Mulayri’s sake. This is madness.”

“Is it?” she asked. “With Vikal’s sword-trained servant boys, we have nearly enough men to stage an attack. After all, we brought them to Mariit for this very purpose. And what of those mercenaries you told me about, Namok? Have you contacted them?”

For conducting unsavory business deals such as these, Datu Gulod did not lack contacts. He knew about a ring of hired swords that operated out of Mariit. If Imeria could pay for another dozen of them, their odds would improve immensely.

At the mention of the mercenaries, Gulod nodded, but he did not appear convinced. “They’ve agreed to your conditions. They only ask for an advance on their services,” he said.

She waved her hand, distracted, as a plan began to form inside her head. “Tell them I will arrange it.”

Vikal turned to Gulod, lowering his voice. “Money isn’t the issue, my lord. Neither is the number of men. The main problem I see lies in infiltrating the palace, and then holding it.” He glanced at Imeria, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his expression. Vikal was not Gulod. He would die for her if she asked. But for their plan to succeed, she needed to find a way to quash both their doubts.

“We will be able to hold the palace⁠—and the entire capital, for that matter. The Royal Maynaran Guard will fall to our command. I know it,” Imeria said as she stroked the vials of precioso on her neck.

She had sampled the drug the previous evening. A small dose was all she’d needed to coax her power into a fire that roared through her veins. Never had Imeria known power so strong. At high quantities, she could overcome an entire army with a wave of her hand. She did not need to wield her power over all of them. For the guardsmen’s loyalty did not exceed their fear; they would fall to their knees the moment they saw what she was capable of. As for those who refused to surrender⁠—Imeria remembered how she felled Pangil in the courtyard the day he burned down the eastern wing. With precioso’s power in her blood, she would make them bow. Every last one of them.

“As for getting into the palace . . .” Vikal paused, stroking his chin. “We can mount the attack during the feast tomorrow night. You three have been invited to the palace, after all.”

“What of the rest of your men, Vikal?” Gulod demanded. “I don’t suppose Hara Duja’s sent an invitation to all thirty of them?”

“Datu Kulaw can slip away to the servants’ entrance,” Vikal suggested. “I can lead them in through there.”

Imeria hesitated. “I suppose that could work.”