A chorus of surprised shouts rang out across the Black Salt Cliffs the moment Duja delivered the first strike. Merely an hour earlier, the king had been at her side, desperate to pry their daughter from Imeria’s clutches. Now his blood soaked the sunbaked grass. For her entire life, Duja had taken great care not to succumb to fits of rage. She was not her brother, nor was she like the generations of wrathful Gatdulas who’d come before them. But when she looked at the other woman, she could see nothing but the joy Imeria had stolen from her. And when Duja’s gaze fell on Imeria’s quivering lips, all she could taste was vengeance.

Courage. This in Pangil’s voice. His ghost was right; it was time to end Imeria Kulaw once and for all.

The last remnants of precioso pulsed in Duja’s veins. The pillar soared through the air at her summons. It struck Imeria square in the chest, knocking her to the ground with a resounding thud. The next time Duja blinked, the other woman was lying sprawled across the cliff face like a broken doll. She drew in a shaky breath. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes as shocked cries tore through the crowd. From the ground, Imeria didn’t budge. Had Duja killed her at long last? She ought to scream in triumph or crumple in relief. But all that filled her was a weary and bone-deep sadness.

No time to examine Imeria’s unmoving body. From the sides of the cliffs, Kulaw and Gatdula warriors readied their weapons.

“Your Majesty!” Ojas was at Duja’s side in moments. He tightened his grip on his sword, awaiting her order. Imeria Kulaw might have fallen, but her people wouldn’t surrender without a fight.

Duja stole a glance at her husband’s body lying several feet away. My love, my love, my love. She steeled herself against the renewed rush of pain and nodded. “Charge.”

The ground shook, not from her beckoning, but from the stampede of royal guardsman rushing to meet their foes. The air filled with cries of pain and clanking metal as the clash resumed with unrestrained fervor. The fighting earlier had already taken large chunks out of both battalions, leaving dozens of bodies strewn across the Black Salt Cliffs, but Imeria’s allies had suffered the greater blow. Those who remained would fight to their dying breath. Without Imeria Kulaw’s infernal powers, they were hopelessly outmatched. If they were lucky, the Gatdulas’ forces would make short work of them.

Duja sucked in a breath, readying herself to reenter the fray, when a head of curly hair darted past her.

“Bulan, stop!” she cried, grabbing her by the shoulder.

Bulan jerked back in surprise. “But General Ojas. He needs⁠—”