Gulod joined her at the balustrade. The fog had cleared, and they gazed down at the streets below. They were empty. It was early, and the city had barely begun to stir. “Mariit sleeps for now, but it seems many of the servants have fled. They’ll talk, Imeria. There may be anger in the streets, but we are prepared.”

She nodded. Soon, word would spread across Maynara that the Kulaws had taken the capital. Vikal had warned Imeria of riots and complots. Her son was a Kulaw, not a Gatdula. Not all Maynarans would bow to him of their own accord⁠—but Luntok wouldn’t ascend to the throne alone.

“What about Laya?” Luntok asked hoarsely. He hadn’t said a word to Imeria since they’d left the throne room. That was the first question he had asked in hours.

Dropping the deferent tone, Gulod chuckled. “You’re awfully devoted for a conspirator, aren’t you?” he asked. When Luntok scowled, Gulod waved his hand dismissively. “Rest assured, she’s sleeping. We’ve placed her in her own room, as you asked. It’s heavily guarded.”

“Good,” Luntok said, his shoulders relaxing. Imeria sighed. She would have thrown Laya into the prison hold along with the others, but Luntok would hear none of it.

“If you wish to see her, I would go now while she’s placated,” Gulod said blandly. “I daresay she will be less pleased to see you the longer you wait⁠—my lord.”

Luntok bristled. “If you don’t hold your tongue, Datu Gulod, I’ll cut it off myself,” he growled, taking a threatening step toward him.

Imeria laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Namok meant no harm, darling,” she said. “Allow us to finish here. You ought to rest.”

In truth, Luntok was beginning to worry her. Since they’d stormed the great hall, he appeared to relish the Kulaws’ victory, running wild through the palace’s gilded rooms, chanting southern battle cries along with their men. But Imeria watched him when he thought no one was looking. During rare moments of quiet, he wandered the palace with a dazed expression. His triumph dulled in those moments, and he looked just as forlorn as the Gatdula prisoners down in the hold.

Luntok tensed beneath her hand. “I knew going into this, Mother. I knew the cost we would have to pay. I was ready. Then we got to the throne room, and the way Laya looked at me . . .” He faltered for a lingering second, then squared his shoulders. “There was no other way. One day, she’ll understand. Don’t you think so, Mother?” he asked in a level tone. Imeria could still sense his distress. With uncertainty still creasing his brow, he looked exactly as he had as a little boy, tiptoeing into Imeria’s bedroom after a nightmare.