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Chapters (50)
  1. Praise for
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. City of Mariit: Capital of Maynara Map
  5. One
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Two
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Three
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Four
  31. By Order of General Ojas,On Behalf of Her Majesty Hara Duja
  32. Twenty-Three
  33. Twenty-Four
  34. Twenty-Five
  35. Twenty-Six
  36. Twenty-Seven
  37. Twenty-Eight
  38. Twenty-Nine
  39. Thirty
  40. Thirty-One
  41. Thirty-Two
  42. Thirty-Three
  43. Five
  44. A Coronation Prayer
  45. Thirty-Four
  46. Epilogue
  47. Acknowledgments
  48. Thank You
  49. About the Author
  50. Violetear Books x Bindery Books

To his surprise, Laya obliged him. Let him want. Let him hanker. She turned around and leaned against his torso. His shallow breaths reverberated in her ear, and she could practically hear his heart hammering in his chest.

Laya didn’t need to call upon Mulayri’s power. One day, she would strangle Luntok with her bare hands.

Despite the water’s scalding temperature, she shivered when he lathered the soap over her shoulder blades and down the side of her neck. The trials of the past day had made her entire body stiffer than a bamboo rod. He rubbed slow circles into the knotted muscles in her upper back. His thumb dug into a sore spot, and rather than recline against him, she hissed.

Her hand jerked above the surface. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub. In his panic, Luntok snatched her by the wrist.

Laya’s gaze snapped over her shoulder. “I . . . I wasn’t . . .”

The brass of the shackles had dug into her skin mere moments before, only to be replaced by his bruising grip.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Luntok released her, and she winced. He turned away, flushing with shame as she rubbed her wrist. But Laya could tell from the hard gleam in his eyes⁠—Luntok wasn’t sorry. He’d gotten what he wanted: Laya for his wife, and the throne his family had coveted for centuries.

“This is how it’s going to be from now on, isn’t it?” she asked bitterly as she inched away.

“Wait.” Gently this time, Luntok pulled her back by the waist and rested his chin against her shoulder. She waited for him to say something, but he had no words of comfort for her. Laya didn’t care. Luntok could feed her all the pretty words he liked. Never again would she believe him.

Water dripped from the pump in light staccato. The strength flushed out of Laya all at once; she could no longer play the coquette. She cried again, a plaintive wail that filled the water closet. Her sobs this time were quieter, more restrained.

Luntok stayed silent. He comforted her until her tears subsided. Several minutes later, she calmed herself long enough to gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“Great Mulayri. I wish I could forgive you,” she said, in a thick voice of resignation.

Luntok’s face twisted as if slapped. “I pray that one day, you will,” he said stiffly.

Fool. Rage surged in Laya’s blood, but she could no longer argue with him. Sniffling, she drew her knees up to her chest. The steam in the air cooled as they sat in the bathtub in silence.

Twenty-Seven

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