Her sister’s long hair had been snipped short, her knobby knees concealed by baggy, threadbare trousers⁠—but her round cheeks and light footsteps were unmistakable.

Laya tore her gaze from Eti for fear of calling attention to her. Her eyes flitted between the Kulaws and Datu Gulod standing next to Imeria, convinced they would register her sister’s presence at any second. But Imeria remained fixated on the goblet resting between the high shaman’s hands. And Luntok⁠—Luntok only had eyes for her.

Maiza drew Laya’s attention back to herself. This time, she caught a sharp glint of defiance in her eyes. In a thin, scratchy voice, the shaman announced, “I bring together this man, Luntok Kulaw, and this woman, Laya Gatdula. They are now one. May we all bear witness to their union, and to the start of their enduring reign as sovereigns of Maynara and Thu-ki.”

Behind them, a discontented rumble spread across the crowd. Luntok’s gaze locked on hers. His eyes burned with a love that Laya suddenly knew was genuine⁠—it always had been.

“Laya . . .” He hesitated, waiting for her to speak.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eti shuffling toward her. Neither Luntok nor Imeria had noticed her. So consumed were they by the marriage ceremony⁠—and the victory it would bring them⁠—they could think of little else. But the ceremony was drawing to its farcical end. Eti was standing so close to them; anyone might recognize her if they gave her a second glance.

Laya forced her eyes to soften when she returned his gaze. “I suppose that makes you my husband,” she said.

“And you, my wife.”

She saw the question in his eyes and gave him a small nod to encourage him. He exhaled sharply, like he had been waiting his entire life for this signal, and leaned in.

As Luntok pressed their lips together, Maiza barked out, “Boy, the marriage cord!” and motioned Eti over.

Laya barely registered the heat of Luntok’s mouth on hers. It was no more than a brief peck, but any softness from Laya sufficed to distract him. When he pulled back, he did not spare a glance at Eti, who was hovering over them. Laya held her breath as Eti reached between her and Luntok. Her sister kept her head bowed, her cropped hair spilling over her cheeks. With nimble fingers, Eti untied the cord binding Laya to Luntok. The young girl’s hand lingered on the shackles for a long, pregnant moment. The short chain linking her wrists together snapped with a metallic click, and the marriage cord fell to the dirt between them.

Laya flexed her fingers. She couldn’t hear her own thoughts over the swell of the waves and the blood pounding in her ears. A nervous tingle seeped throughout her body. She was free. Eti had rescued her⁠—and neither Luntok nor his mother appeared to notice.