Gulod barked out a laugh. “Great Mulayri. The throne is in your hands now, and that is what you’re worried about?”

This time, Luntok ignored him. He shook his head to himself as he stared at the sleeping city below. His expression hardened into one of grim acceptance.

Imeria knew his heartbreak intimately. She wished to comfort him but didn’t dare say a word in front of Datu Gulod. “Don’t trouble yourself with that now, Luntok,” she said softly. “You are going to be king of Maynara, my darling. Soon, you will have everything you have ever dreamed of.”

“The crown. The throne. Maynara and Thu-ki, united at last,” Luntok listed, as if reminding himself what the entire coup was for.

She nodded to encourage him. “You will herald the realm into a new age, my boy. You and your lovely queen.”

In an ideal world, Imeria would have slaughtered Laya without a second thought. But the Gatdulas were far too beloved, and their murder would have provoked a wasteful, drawn-out war. Coercing them into a marriage alliance was the cleanest way for the Kulaws to take the throne. It would bind their families together by blood. And nothing in Maynara was held more sacred than a blood vow. No one⁠—not even the datus⁠—could protest their union after that.

For Imeria’s plans to work, she needed to maintain the pretense of Gatdula rule. Southerners were still received with suspicion in the capital, but the royal family’s fiercest worshippers craved continuity above all else. They might decry the marriage at first, but dissent was tiresome, and their anger would wane with time. She was certain she could tame the court, as well as any unrest that would soon sweep through the city. Even if it meant keeping Laya Gatdula, and the rest of her family, alive.

At the mention of Laya, Luntok’s expression brightened the slightest shade. Imeria regretted choosing those words to comfort him. She could say with complete confidence that the princess would never live down their treachery. But Laya’s love, like her forgiveness, couldn’t matter less. The girl would rule at Luntok’s side whether she wanted to or not. Luntok would one day learn to accept it. Vaguely, Imeria wondered how her son would manage disappointment with the weight of a crown upon his head. Doubt twisted in her gut, but Gulod was watching them too closely⁠—she refused to let him see it.

With a sigh, Imeria reached for Luntok once more. In a firmer voice, she told him, “You’ve had a trying few days, Son. The fatigue has gone to your head. Promise me you’ll rest.”

To her surprise, Luntok didn’t protest. “You’re right, Mother,” he said with a resigned nod. “You should rest too.”