“Because you are one woman, and the most abhorred datu at that,” he told her candidly. “Power, gods blessed or not, means nothing without allies⁠—and I can procure anything you need.”

She frowned. His offer was tempting, but she didn’t understand it. “Why would you help me at all, Namok? You’re not known for your generosity.”

Gulod’s grin widened. “Allyship is a two-way street. I expect you’ll find some way to repay the favor when you are queen.”

She understood now. The Gatdulas had never held the Gulods in the highest regard. Their kadatuan sat too far to the south: their trade routes, their people, all in uncomfortably close proximity to the Kulaws. Long before the rebellion, the Gatdulas ignored the Gulods’ pleas for newer roads and stronger defenses⁠—all out of fear the Kulaws would co-opt those resources for their own gain. The money went instead to the Tanglaws, to the Lumas, families with already-thriving kadatuans and no need for the capital’s generosity. Over the years, the Gatdulas had driven the Gulods away with their blatant biases and casual neglect. Datu Gulod was wise to seek a kinder ally on the throne⁠—one who would shower his kinsfolk with favors and line his coffers with gold. But he was wrong in assuming it would be Imeria.

A chill spread through her body. “It was never my intention to install myself as sovereign,” she said. Never before had she dared utter her own treasonous thoughts aloud. In truth, Imeria could not place herself on the throne, even if she genuinely wanted to.

None could refute the fact that she had been exiled along with Duja’s brother, the forgotten prince. Although Duja hadn’t ordered Imeria to leave the realm, the queen’s decision to banish them both from the capital had undeniable significance. It meant that Imeria Kulaw could not be trusted. That she was no different from her traitorous father⁠—no different from Pangil, whose name few Maynarans dared utter, even after all this time. Already, she’d wasted countless years in an effort to shake off the accursed association. So she knew better than to try.

Surprise flickered over Gulod’s face. “Then, pray tell, what was your intention?”

“Luntok,” she murmured. “That honor should go to him.”

“Your boy?” Gulod leaned back in his seat, unconvinced. “He’s awfully young.”

“Young, but beloved. You saw how they looked at him after the tournament today.” Pride swelled in Imeria’s chest once more when she remembered how the crowd had worshipped him.

Gulod’s brow furrowed in confusion. “If all you want is to put Luntok on the throne, why not have him marry Laya? They seem to like each other enough.”

Her expression hardened. “Hara Duja would never allow that to happen.”

“Are you certain? Because marriage is much easier to negotiate than a coup.”