Luntok inclined his head once more, waiting to be dismissed, but Laya couldn’t let him leave yet. She knew what she was doing when she held out her hand to him.

Luntok grinned as he bowed to brush his lips over her knuckles. “Not half as lovely as its owner,” he murmured when he met her gaze. He tightened his grip on her hand before he released it, letting his fingers linger.

Laya bit back a telling grin. She didn’t notice how her heart was thumping until she heard her father’s knowing chuckle behind her.

“I’d be careful with that one,” he joked to the queen, softly so Luntok couldn’t hear.

Hara Duja stiffened in her seat. “That will be all, Datu Kulaw. Thank you,” she said, dismissing them more coldly than the others.

Laya frowned, watching Luntok’s back⁠—his strong, lovely back⁠—as he retreated down the palace steps. She understood her mother’s coldness with Imeria, a selfish, horrid woman, but she couldn’t forgive Hara Duja for sending Luntok away so brusquely.

To her right, Bulan scoffed.

“Not a word from you,” Laya hissed.

“I wasn’t going to say a thing.”

“Please,” Eti pleaded under her breath. The most sensitive of the three, she cried pitifully when they fought. For her sake, Laya and Bulan ignored each other.

Laya turned back to the procession. It was nearly over, with only three families left in line to present their tributes. Her stomach rumbled. She thought greedily about the platters of food waiting for them in the palace. And, if they could sneak away, the prospect of Luntok waiting for her in her bed.

As Datu Tanglaw and his son mounted the steps, their servants lugging what looked like a chest of antique Maynaran instruments behind them, General Ojas swept over to the queen. He wore ceremonial armor, a silk sash of Gatdula green, and an even stonier expression than usual. Curious. Laya craned her neck to listen.

“Your Majesty, a man just arrived at the palace,” Ojas whispered. “My men tried to send him away, but he insisted.”

“What kind of man, General?” the queen asked in a hushed voice.

“Not our kind, Your Majesty. I would have sent him on the first ship out of Maynara, but he . . .” For the first time, Laya heard Ojas hesitate. “He bears an invitation from the king.”

Laya’s ears perked up in interest. Her father often received a wide range of eccentric guests at the palace⁠—thinkers and artists and exotic beast tamers. Something in Ojas’s tone told her this guest was unlike any of them.

“Did he . . . come alone?” the queen asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ojas said.

For one sharp moment, Hara Duja remained silent. Her sleeves rustled as she reached for the king’s hand. “Aki . . .”