BooksBarbecue
Back Black Salt Queen Save as PDF
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

Meanwhile, the tremors would not wait for Laya to learn control. The power of the gods would continue to wear away at Duja’s body at alarming speed. For her daughter’s sake⁠—and for the rest of Maynara⁠—the queen needed to maintain her hold on the throne for a while longer. But how?

Duja’s thoughts flitted to the letter in her pocket. Her husband knew of her misgivings when it came to Laya. He loved their daughter, but even he agreed that Laya was not ready to ascend to the throne. For months, he had been searching for a way to buy Duja the time she needed. He wouldn’t have contacted Pangil without good reason. At least, that’s what Duja wanted to believe.

Twenty-two years since her brother had last roamed the island. He couldn’t be allowed to return⁠—not after what he’d done. Duja’s mouth flooded with bile at the mere prospect.

Nothing like him, Maiza had said.

Duja wanted to believe her, but the memory of her mother’s death was still fresh in her mind. Between her brother’s flame and Laya’s wreckage, she could not wash away the haunting resemblance.

boat fleuron

Duja did not see the king until it was nearly suppertime. She happened upon him in the library, where the peppery scent of pipe cloves announced his presence. She made out his distinguished profile as she rounded one of the tall mahogany bookshelves that stretched to the gilded ceiling.

Hari Aki carried no despotic airs. If anything, he radiated intelligence⁠—more scholar than king. He was a surprising breed of handsome, with attentive eyes and warm brown skin, and a pleasant face that grew more bewitching the longer you gazed at it.

He hadn’t been Duja’s first love, but she had always admired him. Before they’d courted, Aki had been the gentlest man she’d known. His intelligence and political acumen, she gleaned much later. She fell in love first with his hearty laugh, which sent pleasant vibrations throughout every inch of her body. After their daughters were born, she saw how tenderhearted he could be. He was the sole man she would have chosen to father her children, and now he was the only soul whose counsel she could trust.

Until that morning, when Duja had found the letter, that was. The damned letter. She still did not know what to make of it. She frowned as she studied her husband⁠—her clever, gentle husband. A memory flashed of two young men strolling in the courtyard, Pangil’s arm slung around Aki’s shoulders. Aki had been her brother’s friend long before he’d become her king. What had Pangil promised him, exactly?