The other datus looked up, surprised at the rare hint of informality between the two women, but Imeria went on as if she hadn’t heard her. “I admire your idealism, Hara Duja, but we have no friends in this changing world. First you concede on gold, next it will be the throne. This is how it begins.”

Her words echoed in the vast hall of the council room. Duja could never admit it, but Imeria had always been the cleverer of the two. She remembered the tales the noblewoman had once spun of her people’s gods and their fallen kingdom. In those moments, Imeria had sounded like her father, who had died in a futile attempt to restore the Kulaws to their former glory.

Oh, Duja, to be a god like you, Imeria once mused. But Duja never wanted to be a god. As a child, she had wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through the Kulaw girl’s long, inky hair. To match Imeria’s whip-sharp tongue and troublesome beauty. That was before she saw Imeria for what she was⁠—before she realized what she was capable of.

“You didn’t regret it then,” Duja said softly, “when my mother conceded and spared your life.”

Imeria’s mouth snapped shut. Her cheeks reddened as if she had been slapped.

Duja should have felt relief when Imeria finally fell silent, but all she wanted was to shake her. Spite me and slander me all you like, Imeria, but you will not win. You are the danger. You are the source of ruin. You⁠—

Her hands began to tremble. She clutched at the edge of the table, but the tremors radiated from her palms and up the length of her arms. Beneath their feet, the ground shook. The glass windows rattled in the frames. On its clawed mahogany legs, the council table lurched.

“Your Majesty!” the datus gasped.

For the past couple of years, Duja had fought to control the tremors. But as she met Imeria’s gaze across the table, a spark of defiance shot through her body. Duja squared her jaw and leaned into the vibrations. The threads of energy braided themselves firmly through her fingertips.

She sucked in a breath and pulled the threads taut. Below her feet, the earthquake intensified.

A shadow of fear flickered in Imeria’s expression. Finally, she bowed her head. “My apologies, Your Majesty,” she muttered, her voice barely audible above the rumbling earth.

Once, Duja remembered, Imeria had looked at her as if she were the pillar that held up the universe.