The quaver in her voice caught Laya’s attention. She had never heard her mother sound so anxious before. She looked over her shoulder, no longer pretending she wasn’t listening.

Her father leaned in toward the queen, uncharacteristically tight-lipped. “When this is over, you must speak with him. Take Ojas with you so you’re not alone,” he whispered. He cast a wary glance at the procession, at the hundreds of Maynarans gathered beyond the palace gates, and added, “Be careful, Duja. Go as quietly as you can.”

Speak with whom? And why the secrecy?

Laya’s skin tingled with anticipation. She fidgeted, impatient, as the remaining families took their time climbing the great steps. Would the procession ever end? She stifled a groan. When Laya was queen, she would order the datus to deliver their tributes to the palace several weeks ahead of the feast days and be done with it.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” Bulan demanded under her breath.

Laya ignored her. She stared hard at Datu Patid, flanked on either side by his daughters, young girls around Eti’s age with forgettable names and sallow cheeks, until he at last rose from his knees. Hara Duja gave him a regal nod, accepting the last of her tributes. She stood and gestured at General Ojas. Together, they disappeared through the enormous doors atop the great stairs. Moments later, the forecourt erupted into a flurry of movement as the nobles streamed into the palace for the opening feast.

On either side, Laya’s sisters gathered their skirts. They, too, made their way inside. Laya glanced between them. She didn’t want to spy on their mother alone, but who should she take with her? Eti couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. But Bulan, with her sharp mind and soldier’s tread⁠—

“Hari Aki, if I might have a word.” One of the nobles, Datu Tanglaw, caught up with the king. Laya had scarcely exchanged words with the man over the years, but she remembered his thick black eyebrows and obsequious tone.

Laya’s father turned to the other man, a winning smile on his face, ready to fend off whatever request Datu Tanglaw planned to make of him.

Perfect. They could slip away while the king was distracted.

Laya grabbed Bulan’s wrist. “Follow me,” she whispered.

Bulan stared at her, incredulous. “What are you⁠—”

She whisked her from the throng of nobles before Bulan could finish her sentence. They darted down the long corridor leading to the great hall. Laya refused to stop until they reached the passageway that linked the great hall to the palace kitchens.

“Now will you explain where you’re taking me?” Bulan asked.