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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

A muddy chunk of earth jutted out of the ground. Her foot caught on its ragged edge. She slammed into the grass with a scream. When she looked up, the queen was hovering over her. Bright-red blood coated Duja’s fingers, her arms, the torn silk of her dress. Salty tears dripped down her jaw, squared in sorrow, in rage. She stared down at Imeria, her tight lips trembling.

“Duja⁠—” Imeria gasped.

Duja’s fists closed around the collar of Imeria’s dress. She had become monstrous in grief. Her hands did not shake when she wrenched Imeria to her feet. “Touch my daughter and I’ll kill you,” she said, her voice lowering to a growl. “I’ll kill you like your people killed him.”

Imeria glanced over Duja’s shoulder, where the king lay in a patch of bloodied grass, lifeless. Her vision clouded with shame and anger and pain. He was gone. They were both gone. An excruciating pang wound through her when she thought of her son⁠—her beautiful, broken boy⁠—waiting for her at the base of the Black Salt Cliffs. My son, my son⁠—she couldn’t bear it.

One strike by Duja’s hand would end it. And for the first time in her life, Imeria craved Gatdula clemency more than anything. “Go on,” she said, staring Duja in the eye. “Kill me, then.”

Doubt flickered in the queen’s gaze. For a moment, Imeria saw the young girl she’d once been⁠—afraid of her brother’s shadow and paralyzed by second guesses. The mirage faded as quickly as it appeared. Duja’s face hardened into a mask of steel.

“No,” she said again, and pointed to her fallen husband. “Not before you heal him.”

Imeria froze. She looked beyond Duja’s shoulder at the crowd of people clustered around Hari Aki’s body, their heads bowed, their clothes soiled by royal blood. The old hag Maiza had already stepped away, muttering ancient prayers under her breath. Bulan was kneeling beside the king’s chest, her shoulders shaking with violent sobs. General Ojas stood straight-backed at her shoulder. He was watching Imeria with cold eyes, his weapon drawn.

The king was dead. Imeria could do nothing to change that.

She looked back at the queen. In spite of Imeria’s bitterness, in spite of the pain that threatened to cleave her in half, she ached for Duja. Look at what we’ve lost.

“I-I can’t, Duja.” Imeria’s voice cracked. “I can’t bring back the dead.”

“You don’t know that.” This time, it was Laya who spoke. She came to stand at her mother’s side, her bright eyes oddly blank, as if she were caught in a trance.