Laya refused to let her slip away. She sucked in a breath, ready to strike her down, when a metallic gleam caught her eye. Three Kulaw warriors were charging toward her. Reflexively, she flung out her arms. She sent them hurtling across the grass with a violent blast.

“Laya!”

She ducked as a rock hurtled from behind her, narrowly missing her brow. A Kulaw warrior had his sword posed above his head, ready to strike her down, before the rock crashed against his chest. With a nauseating crunch, he fell back, crumpling beneath its weight.

Hara Duja ran over and grabbed her face in her hands. She gave her a harsh shake, a savage spark in her eyes. “You have to be more careful.”

More and more Kulaw guards advanced toward them. The queen grabbed Laya’s arm with one hand and with the other, raised the earth beneath their feet. They shot up to the sky on a limestone pedestal. On the flat face of the cliffs, there was no higher ground from which to fight, so Hara Duja made her own. When she raised her palms, four gigantic chunks of earth broke off from the cliff face. They rose to orbit the pedestal, ready to crash down on any who dared attack her.

Laya could not help but gape at her mother. Had the queen wielded such power all this time? Her thoughts flitted to the substance Imeria had boasted about back at the palace. The secret Hara Duja had been keeping from her. Precioso.

“They’re too strong. We must act fast,” a voice bellowed from the ground⁠—Vikal, who’d trained Luntok in the art of war. Imeria had managed to join him behind the Kulaws’ defenses. He stood, pleading, at her side. Luntok and Datu Gulod were with them. They stared up at Hara Duja, frozen in anticipation.

Imeria held herself still as the battle raged around them, but Laya could see the color drain from her cheeks. She was shaken. From high up on the pedestal, Laya watched as the woman groped for something around her neck.

“Mother,” Luntok pleaded, his cry carrying over the sounds of battle. “You need to hurry.”

Laya frowned, trying to decipher Imeria’s next move. Behind her, a familiar voice boomed.

“Duja!”

She turned around and spied her father, a borrowed sword at his side, shouting to them from the base of the pedestal.

Hara Duja’s eyes bulged in their sockets. “What are you doing?” she snapped. “Get back to the rear.”

The king ignored her command. “I tried to warn you from back there. You must stop Imeria as soon as you can. I couldn’t get a good look, but I fear she has her hands on precioso.”