Hope fluttered in Imeria’s stomach, but she refused to give in to it. The king was merely feigning hurt. He was trying to win her over with his honey-coated words, the same way he won over the rest of the court. The same way he stole Duja from her all those years before.

“You’re wrong, Aki. Duja never loved me,” she said. “This is how it was always meant to be. And in a few years’ time, I’m sure Laya will thank me for it.”

At the mention of his daughter, the blood drained from Aki’s face. His knuckles whitened against the bars. “What have you done to Laya?”

Imeria’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “I’m giving her what she’s always wanted. Thanks to me, Luntok is all hers. Thanks to me, she’ll be queen of Maynara.”

The king’s eyes widened in panic. “No. This isn’t Laya’s fault. Imeria, please⁠—”

“You should be satisfied, Aki,” she said, cutting him off. “I found your daughter a suitable match⁠—a way to thank Duja for finding mine.”

His voice lowered to a desperate whisper. “For Mulayri’s sake, don’t drag my daughter into your personal vendetta. Punish me if you wish, for I was the one who took Duja away from you. I knew you loved her. I was the one who convinced Duja to marry you off. I wanted Duja for myself. Don’t you see, Imeria? The fault is mine. I beg you. Leave Laya out of this.”

A lump formed in Imeria’s throat. The king was babbling now. He didn’t mean a word of this. He was only telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. She tore her gaze away. “I’m sorry, Aki. It is done.”

The king pounded the bars in terror, and the hall filled with the echoes of clanking metal. “Imeria, wait!”

Imeria ignored his pleas as she turned toward the exit. She ran up the stairs, nearly stumbling over her skirts on the way. Servants bombarded her when she emerged at the courtyard level. They needed to leave for the wedding ceremony in a mere hour’s time, and the palace was still in chaos. Imeria swept past the servants, dismissing their questions with a wave of her wrist. Let Vikal or Gulod deal with it.

Imeria didn’t stop walking until she locked herself into one of the guest chambers on the upper floor. She slammed the door shut and sagged against it. Frustrated tears threatened to spill over her eyelids. No time to dwell on the smoke-filled memories. She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and pushed the tears away.

After drawing in a deep breath, Imeria headed for the nearest water closet to bathe before the wedding ceremony.

A personal vendetta, the king called it. So be it.