The seamstress bowed her head, her cheeks reddening in shame. “My apologies, Dayang. I will have this ready before the dawn feast.”

“You’ll have it ready tomorrow, at the very least,” Laya said with a sniff of disdain.

The grin slid from Maiza’s time-battered face. She held out a hand to Eti. “Follow me, child,” she said. “It’s time we begin your lesson.”

Mournfully, Eti complied, slipping out of Laya’s shawl with a dramatic sigh. Laya reached out to tweak her nose. “Don’t fret, Eti,” she told her. “When I am queen, I’ll buy you a trunkful of pretty dresses.”

“You’d better,” Eti said. She hung her head as she followed Maiza out of the room.

Laya stepped out of her blouse and skirt to try on her next ensemble. Bulan watched her, her brow knitted in uncertainty.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Laya asked.

“All this talk about weddings,” Bulan said. “I hope you’re not truly listening to the rumors.”

“Of course not,” she said. “You know me better than that.”

“I know. But as high counselor⁠—”

Laya gritted her teeth in impatience. “As high counselor, you will advise me when I ask you to, and not a moment sooner.”

She could hear in her sister’s tone that Bulan was one sentence away from lecturing her about Luntok and bloodlines and political matches. The last thing Laya wanted was another reminder of the failed rebellion led by Luntok’s relatives three decades earlier. The Kulaws’ war had slashed an ugly wound through the island, and their family had been granted clemency to keep it from festering. But as punishment, no Kulaw could come near the Maynaran throne.

To wed a Gatdula was a privilege granted only to descendants of the kingdom’s most loyal families. According to myth, the oldest bloodlines in Maynara once practiced magic of their own. There were the Lumas, who were believed to have had the ability to commune with beasts. And the Tanglaws, with their bygone talent for soothsaying. Most nobles believed that marriage to a Gatdula⁠—and mixing their blood together⁠—would allow their long-lost magic to one day reawaken. Such a phenomenon had yet to occur, but the nobles’ faith in the possibility held fierce. That faith grew stronger with each generation⁠—too strong even for the mighty Gatdulas to ignore. Despite their uncontested abilities and rank, faith that powerful demanded at least a modicum of appeasement. Laya hadn’t forgotten. The gods knew she received enough of those lectures from her mother.

Bulan huffed but stepped back, lowering her gaze. “I’m only saying, Laya, you don’t need to bow to the pressure. With your power, you’re strong enough to reign without a marriage alliance.”