Tears splashed down her front unchecked. Imeria sighed when she noticed. “Remember, no marriage is without flaws. You’ll find a way to forgive him, in time.”

“No,” Laya croaked out. She shook her head, aghast. “You cannot expect me to marry him. Not after this.” She glanced at Luntok with bruised eyes. She had loved him, and he’d betrayed her. How could she be his wife when she couldn’t bear to look at him?

“A Gatdula must sit upon the throne. That is how the gods willed it,” Imeria said with a grim smile. “Believe me, Laya, if I could have chosen any daft highborn girl for a daughter-in-law, I wouldn’t have wasted my energy with you.”

“No. You cannot make me.” Out of instinct, she groped for her powers. Her hands strained against the shackles. It was no use.

Desperate, she whipped around and beseeched the council members, who were watching Laya’s horror unfold before them in silence. “My lords, how do you tolerate this farce?” she cried. “You, who have sworn your loyalty to my family. You, who bowed before my mother, Maynara’s chosen steward. How can you sit there, meek as sheep? How can you fall to your knees before a traitor whom you all hate?”

When no one budged, panic gripped at the base of Laya’s throat. She tried to shame them. “What noble datus you claim to be,” she spat. “You tremble in the face of the enemy. You renege on your blood vows at the first sign of threat. Stay silent if you must. I will fight these traitors on my own, and when I win, I will not forget who betrayed me. I will not forget your groveling or your cowardice. I will⁠—”

“Enough.” Imeria grabbed her by the chin.

Pain unlike anything Laya had ever endured radiated from her skull. Her own brain had erupted, sending rivers of lava down her spine. She shrieked in agony, as scorching heat flooded her entire body. The taste of rust stung the inside of her mouth. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t beg for mercy. Her vision melted into a white-hot blur. The sound of her wails rang in her ears. Death couldn’t come soon enough. Laya welcomed it. Let her die on her back, screaming. At least she wouldn’t die the wife of a traitor.

The pain lifted for the briefest moment. In the quiet, she sucked in a ragged breath. Darkness circled her like a swarm of vultures. With all her strength, she pushed up against the night. It hammered against her skin, the relentless beating of a thousand wings.

Submit, a monster murmured, its voice a soothing balm against Laya’s torment. Submit, and mercy will be yours.