Have you considered that maybe Father truly invited him to be our language tutor? Bulan had said in the same exasperated tone she used when playing the role of Laya’s handler.

At this, Laya seethed. She knew she was right to suspect the Orfelian. One doesn’t sneak off to meet a language tutor in the midst of an opening feast. One doesn’t hide a language tutor in a dusty corner of the palace where he wouldn’t be seen.

Her sister had witnessed the same thing Laya had, but she could not be convinced. Bulan turned from the balustrade and made her way back inside the palace. “If you want to make it to the tournament, we need to leave soon.”

“The tournament?” Laya scoffed. “Why on earth would I attend that?”

Bulan stared at her, half in shock, half in wonder. The corners of her lips turned up in a faint smile. “You truly didn’t lie. He means nothing to you,” she said with a chuckle.

Laya frowned. “What do you mean?”

She raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought you would want to watch the tournament, because Luntok will be competing for the first time this year. He’s in love with you, after all. I thought he would have invited you.”

“Oh. I⁠—well.” Laya stuck out her chin before Bulan could see her falter. “The tournament’s a bore. Luntok may have invited me, but he knows I’d never agree to watch something like that.”

Bulan shrugged and continued on her way. “Suit yourself.”

A deep flush spread across Laya’s cheeks as she watched Bulan’s retreating back. Luntok had told her about the tournament⁠—several times, in fact. Guilt churned in her stomach when she imagined how his eyes would have lit up at the sight of Laya in the stands. She told herself she was the one making a sacrifice by not attending. It was better this way⁠—for Bulan to think Laya did not care for Luntok. But she did care for him. She loved Luntok from the deepest pits of her soul, and yet she’d completely forgotten his invitation to watch him compete.

Laya banished all questions of love from her mind as she swept across the terrace. She skipped down the stairs two steps at a time⁠—Eti, thankfully, was not there to trip over⁠—then barreled toward the eastern wing. For a long time, she had avoided looking in that direction, given the shame it brought her. Laya hadn’t meant to destroy it, and she promised her mother she would do better. Still, the queen would never let her forget that accursed day. It was shortly after Laya had shown Luntok the entrance to the tunnel. Bulan had confronted her, swearing she caught a glimpse of Luntok lurking about the gardens. Their argument exploded into a whirlwind of insults and accusations. The blood of Mulayri surged in Laya’s veins, clouding every last scrap of sense. In the throes of anger, the threads spun from Laya’s grip, and the wind roared in her ears like a wrathful god. It was her power, not Laya, who’d won that battle. Her fingers still itched from the desperate desire to wrangle back control.