The queen didn’t dare tear her gaze away. She knew Imeria⁠—knew that it wasn’t a bluff. Bitterly, she conceded. “You shall get your wish, Imeria. We will begin with Luntok⁠—but you must remember my terms. If you fail, or if you betray me again⁠—”

“I know.” Imeria stared back as the ache in her chest grew impossible to ignore. “First Luntok, then the king. Afterward, our attack will cease. We will withdraw from Maynara. You have my word.”

Once again, the queen could not know if it was a hollow promise, but what choice did she have? Duja set her jaw. She looked like she wanted to say more. But then she turned to the guards still clustered on the cliff, unsure of their next move. “Everyone, stand down,” she said. “And General Ojas.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ojas rushed to Duja’s side, still tracking Imeria out of the corner of his eye.

“Go with Imeria’s men to the rocks at the base of the cliff. Take your strongest divers.”

The general’s mouth twisted into a frown of uncertainty, but he kept his doubts to himself. “Right away, Your Majesty,” he said. Then he turned around, limping, and started barking orders.

The eerie quiet on the cliffs broke as the onlookers sprang into action. Imeria watched, filled with a different kind of grief, as Vikal accompanied Ojas down the steep path that led to the base of the Black Salt Cliffs. The two men took a handful of Kulaw and Gatdula warriors with them, their imposing figures disappearing over the cliffside in a flutter of scarlet and green.

She glanced at Duja, who had returned to Hari Aki’s side. Eti and Bulan flocked to her. Laya held back. Seeing her father’s body up close had shaken her. Laya stared at the king in wide-eyed horror, her hands balling into fists. The air above their heads began to thicken once more into storm clouds. Then Bulan held her hand out to her sister. With a gasping sob, Laya took it. Grief made allies of them. The clouds cleared, and together, they held their mother tight. The ache swelled in Imeria’s heart at the sight of it. She steeled herself and turned her gaze toward the horizon, swallowing the pit that had formed in the back of her throat.

This was supposed to be her son’s wedding, gods help them. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t shake the sense that she had been robbed of something glorious.

What could have been.

The moment she turned around, Gulod appeared at her shoulder. “Do you . . . Do you truly think you can . . . ,” he asked before trailing off. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were darting toward the carriage path. But the window to escape had long closed; not even Gulod could smuggle his way out.