Duja gave him a curt nod before shutting the workshop door behind her. She hurried downstairs and across the courtyard. She entered the great hall to find it empty save for the long table spanning the full length of the room. Despite her detour to Ariel’s workshop, she was the first to arrive, but the datus were expected at the palace within the next few minutes. This was no ordinary meeting. The midnight feast marked the end of the past week’s celebrations, and only the six ruling families were invited. It was a peculiar, closed-door spectacle that felt to Duja as old as the gods themselves. Once she had been crowned queen, Duja dreaded the midnight feast, because it required her to play a role she despised.

“Are you ready, darling?” Hari Aki asked as he strode through the open doors of the hall. Their daughters trailed in after him, and for a brief moment, the sight of them rendered Duja breathless. Not long before, they were little round-faced girls wreaking havoc in the palace. Those little girls were slipping away fast. They were growing into beautiful women, each with awe-inspiring powers of her own.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Duja leaned in as he kissed her on the cheek. They took their seats⁠—Aki, the king, at the opposite end of the table and Laya, her heir, to her right. Since they had spoken earlier that week, Laya was noticeably more churlish with her. Duja sighed, resolving to make amends the following morning. She did not possess the patience to mitigate another clash with Laya at the moment.

Through the doors strode Datu Luma, Datu Patid, and their respective families. They bowed their heads respectfully to Duja as they entered. She straightened her back and greeted them with the distant regard of a sovereign. She needed to fully commit to her role with the arrival of the first guests.

Duja wished they had music, like at the opening ceremony. The midnight feast’s atmosphere was somber, almost funerary, the only noise coming from the faint murmur of conversation as the datus and their families filed in.

Before long, servants arrived with platters stacked high with food: pork buns and pan-fried milk fish and sweet sausages on steaming beds of rice. Absently, she served herself. As she ate, servants kept her wine goblet full without her asking. She swallowed its contents, too lost in her thoughts to taste anything.

“Mother,” Laya whispered. It was the first word she had spoken to Duja since the start of the evening.

Duja looked up. “What is it, Laya?”

Once again, Duja was struck by how much her heir had grown. Not even the flickering shadows of the great hall could hide Laya’s beauty. A cunning spark pierced through the murky-brown depths of her eyes. From behind her head, sconces lit her temples in crowning rays. Regal, Duja thought. Without even trying.