BooksBarbecue
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

No, she wasn’t certain. But what choice did she have? Her body’s clock was ticking at an alarming rate. Duja’s control over her powers faded with each passing day. If a solution was lying out there, awaiting her discovery, she couldn’t afford to ignore it. Even if the solution had come from her brother’s lips.

“Write to him tonight,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt. “Let us see what this messenger has to say.”

Who was he, this so-called alchemist? And how could she know whether to trust him? Her nerves lit up when she thought back to Pangil’s claim: He can help Duja more than you or I ever could.

The king’s eyes softened. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Of course, my love.”

He would move heaven and earth for her, her husband. Duja closed her eyes and breathed in his familiar scent. The cloves calmed her nerves, but nothing Aki said could quell the doubts swirling in her head. Duja’s concerns had grown far greater than her daughter’s readiness to inherit the throne. Laya’s accident appeared trivial wherever Pangil’s shadow loomed. If there was any truth to Aki’s words, her brother held the secret to long-lasting power. For all they knew, he could be stronger than Duja, or even stronger than Laya. This realization didn’t sit well with the queen.

The decades-old fear twisted in her gut when Duja stared out the window at the eastern wing. She could still picture, with heart-pounding immediacy, the last time she’d seen it aflame.

Duja. Pangil’s voice reverberated across the rifts of time. This time, he wasn’t alone. No, Duja had not forgotten⁠—another ghost, another threat. Amidst Pangil’s laughter, she could still hear the echoes of another girl’s screams.

Four

line

Laya

Needlework is a special kind of magic, Laya thought as she twirled in front of the mirror. Her new skirt fanned out around her ankles, the delicate blue threads sparkling in the midday sun. It was nearing lunchtime, and the dressing room adjoining her bedchamber was basked in yellow light. The royal seamstress, a stout woman with graying hair and spidery fingers, had arrived that morning with Laya’s wardrobe of feast-day gowns, each grander than the last. With the opening procession in just three days, they had little time for adjustments.

“Arms up, Dayang,” the seamstress said, holding up the skirt’s matching blouse.

Laya complied. The dressing room disappeared in a cascade of lapis⁠—a far cry from the Gatdulas’ signature green. She didn’t care for her family’s colors. After all, the court knew who she was. Laya chose instead to stock her wardrobe with every shade of blue known to the human eye⁠—a rainbow of sea and sky ranging from the dark monsoon waters to the pale horizon at dusk.