“My lord,” Vikal said as he deposited Laya gracelessly on the floor.

“I told you to be gentle with her.”

“Fetch her yourself next time, then.”

“Laya?” Luntok’s voice cracked so sincerely, her gaze snapped to his. He was kneeling beside her, his brow furrowed in concern.

“You wished to see me,” she said between labored breaths.

Luntok brushed the sweaty strands away from her face. She knew his touch too well to flinch. “There’s something we would like to discuss with you,” he said as he helped her to her feet.

She didn’t understand it⁠—the shade of hope she heard in his voice. Her gaze shifted over his shoulder to the crowd gathered toward the back of the hall. The guests of the midnight feast were still there⁠—the Council of Datus and their closest kin⁠—all surrounded by armed guards who wore sashes of scarlet silk. She saw Datu Luma, a shock of blood crusting over his white hair. Datu Tanglaw, ashen-faced, with Bato seated silently beside him. Their eyes were downcast. They didn’t dare look up when Laya arrived. They, too, were prisoners.

“What is this?” she asked in a low voice.

“Laya, pet, come closer. We’ve called this meeting expressly for you.” Before the throne stood Imeria Kulaw, with beady-eyed Datu Gulod at her side. Laya’s gut twisted. The traitor. Had he been working with her the entire time?

“The queen,” Laya demanded as the blood turned to ice in her veins. “What have you done to her?”

“Your mother is fine. If you cooperate, you may see her. Now come, child.” Imeria beckoned to her once more.

“Don’t toy with me.” Laya’s voice shook and her hands balled into fists. “Where are they, Imeria? What have you done with the rest of my family?”

“Laya, please,” Luntok begged. He placed a hand on her back, nudging her forward. The heat of his palm radiated through the thin silk of her dress. She recoiled. He would never touch her again⁠—she vowed it.

“Get off.” Laya swung her bound wrists over her shoulder as if she were wielding a bamboo rod. The brass shackles crashed into the side of his face with a loud crack.

Luntok stumbled back with a gasp, rubbing his cheek. “Laya,” he hissed. She hadn’t struck hard enough to break any bones, but one of the notches on her shackles had caught his mouth. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of his lips to his chin.

By the throne, someone coughed. Laya glanced over. Datu Gulod’s beady eyes glimmered. He was biting back a chuckle.

“Stop this. Now.” Imeria had lost her patience. She cast Laya a withering glare. “Do I have to ask again, or are you ready to talk civilly?”