“You,” Laya hissed. Her heart hammered in her chest when she met Imeria’s gaze. She didn’t hesitate. She raised her arm once more above her head, where the threads of energy swirled in wild, raging currents. They shot down to her hands, wrapping around her fingers like knotted rope. If she concentrated, she could summon a tornado that would fling Imeria Kulaw to some faraway ditch, where she and her infernal powers belonged.

Laya sucked in a breath, hatred sharpening her vision. But as she started tugging at the threads, someone yanked her arm back. Her concentration broke, along with her grasp on the air above.

“Get off!” she screamed, then fell silent when she saw who had grabbed her.

Pain contorted Luntok’s face, his smooth, handsome face, which, less than a day before, had shone with nothing but love for her. The Luntok that stood before her was a stranger. She felt no tenderness in his embrace. The hands restraining her were rough. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears. A sour chill oozed down her spine when she realized what those tears meant. That Laya had been a fool. She’d believed him. She’d given her heart to him. And now⁠—

Luntok had betrayed her.

“It’s over,” he said, his voice hard.

“Let me go.” She thrashed in his grip, but he held fast.

“Laya, it’s over.” He was stronger than she knew him to be⁠—inhumanly strong. Even with the blood of Mulayri that ran through her veins, she could not fight him.

“No.” Furious tears ran down her cheeks. Pangs of pain and helplessness wracked her body. She raged and spat, tried to claw at his cheeks. “How could you,” she sobbed. “I hate you. I hate you. I⁠—”

“Luntok, let me,” Imeria said.

Laya jerked back, but she was too slow. Imeria flattened her hand against Laya’s forehead. Laya met Luntok’s gaze a final time. He was crying. He was remorseful. She didn’t care. I’ll kill you, she thought. I’ll blast you over the edge of the terrace. I’ll⁠—

She blinked. Someone had cast a veil over her eyes. The chaos of the throne room disappeared in an instant. Ahead, she saw a black, starless sky that stretched for an eternity. The shouting in the background dimmed. She could hear nothing but her own ragged breathing before that, too, faded to silence.

Calm, said a gentle, honey-coated voice that did not belong to her.

Laya refused to be calm. But the blackness in front of her eyes called to her, as tiredness settled into her bones. She did not want to be calm, but she did not want to fight either.

Come, cooed the voice, as the blackness opened its arms. The velvety fibers of a worn blanket. The warm embrace of an old friend.

Yes, Laya thought. She wanted to sleep. To rest. I will come.