She rolled her eyes. The entire court knew that Gulod had no interest in women, enchanting or otherwise. He was several years her junior and much younger than the other datus. Court gossip informed her that he doted on the page boy who warmed his bed at night. For his bloodline to continue, however, he would need to take a wife. Imeria doubted Gulod had ever considered her for this role. The lesser nobility boasted no shortage of beautiful, unmarried women, fertile of womb and free of baggage, all of whom were eager to marry up the ranks.

“Find another woman to shower with your affection,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “I’m here to watch my son.”

They were seated in the stands high above the tournament platform. Several levels below, crowds gathered, eager to watch Maynara’s highborn sons battle each other for a sliver of glory. She spied Luntok on the left side of the platform. He was warming up with Vikal. Imeria smiled as she watched Vikal correct Luntok’s posture, nodding in encouragement each time Luntok followed his instructions. Vikal had long before proved that he was not the Kulaws’ groveling lackey, and Imeria owed him a great deal.

He had done more than train Luntok over the years. He had cared for him, raised him. He’d taught him strength when Imeria, weak as she’d been after her husband died, was unable. Imeria yearned to make up for those sad, painful years, during which Vikal proved himself a better parent than she could ever hope to be.

This was the first year Vikal deemed Luntok ready to compete in the tournament. The best I’ve ever trained, Vikal assured her before they left the capital. I think you’ll be pleased, my lady.

I am already pleased, Vikal, she’d said. And as Imeria watched how Luntok moved in the pit below⁠—his sword arm strong, his hands and feet gliding in perfect symmetry⁠—a savage pride burst inside her chest. My son. Luntok was a man, and a worthy heir of the Kulaw legacy.

Gulod followed Imeria’s gaze. “Ah, yes, Luntok. I’ve hardly seen him since the start of the feast days. Where have you been keeping him?”

“Where do you think?” she said testily. Gulod knew about Luntok’s infatuation with Dayang Laya, same as the rest of the court, much to the queen’s chagrin.

He chuckled, twirling the stack of rings on his pointer finger. “I mean no offense to your son, but that girl could eat a grown man alive. Shall I warn him for you?”