“Even before rising in the ranks, Namok Gulod has been straining at the Gatdulas’ lead. His loyalties have long been up for question. However, I needed him to approach me.” Imeria cut him a sharp look. “Do you understand now, Luntok? Our efforts may have just begun to bear fruit, but I’ve spent my entire life planting the seeds.”

At her small rebuke, he tried not to grimace. He may have learned swordsmanship from Vikal, but his mother had taught him how to navigate the battlefield that was the Maynaran court. She showed him how to sniff out dissatisfaction in a room full of sycophants. To keep his lips tight and his eyes peeled. To till the ground in preparation of a future of which no one dared speak. Imeria Kulaw had learned this from her father, whose failed rebellion nonetheless rattled the Gatdulas to the core. And she was passing her knowledge down to him.

“With this precioso,” Luntok began, the foreign word rolling awkwardly off the tip of his tongue. “Could you overpower⁠—anyone?” He didn’t dare say Hara Duja’s name.

“An ordinary guard? Easily. As for a Gatdula . . .” Imeria cast her gaze toward the window, a somber line creasing her brow. “My father used to tell me stories passed down from his own father⁠—and his father before that. Few could resist the Kulaw’s power to wield mind and flesh. Not the fiercest warrior. Not even the mightiest datu.”

“None but the Gatdulas,” Luntok said as the dread formed a pit beneath his ribs.

“None but the Gatdulas.” His mother turned back to him, a cryptic smile creeping across her face. “The blood of Mulayri runs strong, shielding them generation after generation. From afar, I cannot overpower them. However, no Gatdula is impenetrable. If I could only close the distance⁠—” She broke off, her hand rising to hover over Luntok’s cheek.

Imeria was his mother. She would never hurt him. And yet, he forced himself not to flinch.

“A simple touch,” she whispered, “and the queen would bow to my will.”

Luntok had never heard his mother speak of her schemes so boldly. His eyes dropped once again to the vial of precioso between her fingers. Something told him that the drug had broken the delicate balance between his family and Laya’s in a way that was irreparable.

“Is that what Datu Gulod believes?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Imeria barked out a laugh as her hand dropped to her side. “Datu Gulod? His aptitude for deduction stretches only so far⁠—and I wouldn’t have come all this way based on theory alone.”

Luntok’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead when he realized the meaning lurking beneath her words. “You’ve already tried it.” He shook his head in disbelief.