Page 26

Twenty-Six

Laya

Laya’s mind was still reeling when the Kulaws’ guards deposited her back in her chambers.

She was unable to overcome the dual sting of betrayal.

First, Luntok.

Then, her mother.

Ariel had come to Maynara to produce a power-enhancing substance for the queen, and Laya had learned about it from Imeria, of all people.

How could Hara Duja keep such a secret from her?

The pain from the discovery was almost strong enough to make Laya forget her new fate.

She was to be Luntok’s wife.

If Imeria had told her that days earlier, Laya’s heart would have sung in happiness.

But once Laya knew the truth, the prospect of marrying Luntok filled her mouth with the taste of bile.

She had been standing at the balcony, wondering whether she ought to throw herself off the ledge, when someone knocked at the door.

She ignored it.

She knew who was waiting on the other side.

When she didn’t reply, the door creaked open.

“Laya,” Luntok murmured.

She didn’t turn around to greet him.

He felt more like an intruder standing in her doorway than he ever had climbing over the balustrade.

“Why have you come, Luntok?” she asked in a broken voice.

“Did you wish to humiliate me further?”

“I came to see how you were doing,” he said.

“I have been imprisoned. Tortured in my own home. And a few hours ago, I learned that to spare my family from Imeria Kulaw’s wrath, I must marry the man who engineered our destruction.” Laya let out a bitter, high-pitched laugh.

When she opened her mouth again, her voice shook, on the verge of tears.

“I truly did fall in love with you, you know. You played your part admirably. Your mother must be very proud.”

Luntok joined her on the balcony.

“But I do love you, Laya. I never lied about that,” he said hoarsely.

He reached for her arm out of instinct.

The moment he touched her, she shrank back.

He could not hurt her the way his mother had hurt her, but his touch burned.

“You’ve locked me up in chains, Luntok. Is that what love is to you? By the gods.” Laya sagged against the balustrade.

Her shoulders shook, and she finally broke down in sobs.

She could fight them no longer.

This time, when he reached for her, she folded into his embrace.

“I should despise you after everything you did. I should want to claw your eyes out and curse your name,” she gasped between shuddering cries.

“I loved you once, Luntok, gods help me. But you betrayed me. Betrayed my family. How can I ever forgive you?”

His arms tightened around her.

He held her until her breathing calmed.

When her sobs quieted at last, he drew back and pressed his forehead against hers.

“I can’t take back the pain I’ve caused, Laya, but I can promise to keep your family safe. To keep her from hurting you ever again.”

Laya met his gaze.

Her muscles still quivered in the aftermath of Imeria’s torture.

“Even if you wanted to protect me, how would you stop her?” she asked.

“No one can match Imeria’s power.”

“I swear no one will touch you,” he said, an impassioned growl creeping into his voice.

“Not when you are my queen.”

His queen.

A faint blush spread over Laya’s cheeks.

“Don’t tell me this was all part of some ruse you concocted simply to marry me.”

“Of course not, Laya. It’s more complicated than that. You wouldn’t understand,” Luntok said, turning away.

“Then help me to,” she said firmly.

“I want to know what would push a man like you to do such a terrible thing.”

Luntok’s face tightened.

He leaned against the balustrade, gesturing at the royal gardens with a wide sweep of his arm.

“How could you understand, Laya, when you grew up with this your entire life?” he said.

“My people were once the mightiest and most revered sovereigns in the land before your ancestors decimated them. The Gatdulas slaughtered our shamans. Burned down our palace. They did this, and once the westerners began laying claim to the Untulu Sea, they claimed to be our protectors.”

“Please,” Laya said with a scoff.

“Your people would never have stood a chance against the westerners. You needed us.”

Luntok shook his head.

“The Gatdulas didn’t care about protecting us. They merely wanted uncontested power. So they made sure to destroy us before bringing us to heel. Not once did they consider the alternative.”

“And what was that?” she asked, incredulous.

“How much stronger we could have been?—together.” He looked at her, hope burning in his gaze.

Together.

The word cleaved Laya’s heart in two.

She swallowed hard.

A balmy wind swept over the palace roofs, carrying with it the sting of nectar and rotting fruit.

He reached for her again, tangling his fingers in her limp, grime-ridden hair.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed.

“Maybe you were right, Luntok.”

“Right about what?” he asked, his breath warm against her cheek.

“We should have run away.”

Had it only been two weeks since Luntok had asked her to run away with him?

He hadn’t meant it.

Part of Laya wished he had.

When she didn’t pull away from him, he cupped her face in his palms, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Now we don’t have to.”

Pain erupted in Laya’s chest.

His gentle touch reminded her of what they once had, and she couldn’t bear it.

She launched forward, beating Luntok’s arms and torso with her shackled wrists.

“Luntok, you damned fool . Some glorious union. Is this how you always dreamed it?”

Laya spat and kicked, but not once did Luntok strike her back.

He stood still as a statue, collecting her wild blows as if they were loving caresses.

“Coward,” she said as a sob tore through her lips.

“You damned coward .”

With a desperate snarl, Laya grabbed the collar of his vest.

She yanked him close.

She wanted to blacken his sorrowful eyes.

To bruise his smooth jawline, squared in anguish.

Instead, she curled into his arms and wept into the hollow of his neck.

How many times had she sought refuge in Luntok’s embrace?

He was supposed to hold her the way no one else could hold her.

He was supposed to love her in ways the rest of Maynara could not.

“Try to understand that I did this for us. Your family would have held you back. Forced you to marry someone you didn’t love. I refused to let that happen. I couldn’t bear to lose you,” Luntok murmured, his shoulders relaxing as he wrapped his arms around her.

The damned traitor.

He was relieved, Laya realized?—because she could no longer push him away.

Disgusted, Laya recoiled.

“I’m tired,” she said in a flat voice.

“If you don’t mind, I think I will sleep.”

He followed her back into the bedroom.

“Don’t you want to bathe first?”

Laya looked down.

She had yet to discard the clothes she had worn during the midnight feast, wrinkled and bloodstained at the hem.

It was once a lovely dress made of amethyst silk with canary-yellow trim.

The serving girl Yari had offered to help Laya out of it, but she’d sent her away.

“I can’t undress myself in these shackles. And I will die before I allow that little tart to touch me.” Laya shook her head vehemently.

She hadn’t lost her pride, despite the grime that coated her clothes and the chains attached to her wrists.

Luntok nodded in understanding.

He called for the guard posted outside the door to come in.

“What is it, my lord?” the guard asked, bowing his head.

“Remove the shackles,” he said without preamble.

The guard hesitated.

“My lord?”

Laya’s eyes narrowed.

“Is this another trap?”

“While the princess bathes, no longer.” He clarified his order and gave her a somber look.

“I wish for us to trust each other again, Laya. But if you hurt me or try anything stupid?—”

“I know.” She exhaled sharply and held out her hands.

“You have my family hostage. I’m not a fool.”

Luntok studied her for a long moment.

Laya stared back, fighting to maintain a neutral expression.

She hadn’t lied about the fatigue, the aches that lingered after Imeria’s torture.

The events of the day had drained her.

She couldn’t hurt Luntok, even though she ardently wanted to.

He nodded to the guard, who reached into his belt for the keys.

The shackles opened with a click.

Laya sighed in relief, massaging her wrists.

Her gaze snapped to his, and instinctively, Luntok tensed.

But she did not raise her palms to summon a blast of wind.

She merely clutched her hands to her chest.

“Thank you,” he said to the guard as he led Laya along by the elbow.

“I’ll manage from here.”

The suspicion never left the guard’s gaze, but he gave Luntok a curt nod and exited Laya’s chambers.

Alone once more, they headed into the water closet adjoining her bedroom.

In the center lay a circular tub carved out of rich rosewood.

Yari had already pumped it full of warm water.

Steam wafted up from the surface, leaving the air in the room thick with humidity.

Laya reached for the buttons at the collar of her dress.

Luntok’s gaze followed her as she crossed the water closet.

He wanted her as much as Laya once wanted him.

That desire had been her undoing.

But beneath the curdling heat of Luntok’s gaze, Laya straightened.

Desire was a weakness?—something she could use.

She paused, glancing at him from beneath her eyelashes.

“Are you going to stand there and ogle me?”

“No, but I won’t leave you unattended,” he said as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his temple.

Laya wondered whether the water in the tub was hot enough to scald her skin.

She felt trapped inside a bathhouse sauna.

“Instead of standing there, perhaps you would like to join me.”

Laya didn’t have the strength to destroy him.

That wouldn’t always be the case.

But Luntok would be weak as long as he wanted her.

She revealed nothing as she stared back at him.

Her body language shifted as she finished unbuttoning her dress.

He watched, transfixed, as it slipped from her shoulders.

Laya let it pool on the tiles and stared at him, garbed in a gauzy white camisole and petticoat.

She tilted her head.

Parted her lips.

How many times had Laya given him that look, knowing it would make his blood sear?

He swallowed hard.

“Laya, I...”

I don’t trust you.

Laya could read his thoughts, because they mirrored her own.

Her gaze softened.

She held out her hand.

“Please,” she said gently.

“Let’s pretend things are as they were before.”

Luntok was too vulnerable to refuse her, and she knew this.

He shrugged off his clothes, watching her out of the corner of his eye while she stepped out of her underthings.

Laya did the same.

She thought back to how they’d danced together at the parade?—wildly, recklessly?—how she’d yanked him close, pulling his skin flush against hers.

This was not the same kind of dance.

In the water closet, they circled each other in a cautious orbit.

The hard lines of his body wavered in the hot steam.

Although they had stood naked in front of one another a hundred times before, the version of Luntok that appeared before her was unrecognizable.

She sank into the bath first.

Luntok settled in the opposite end of the tub.

The heat coaxed the tension from her muscles, held taut for so long.

She stretched out her legs under the water, her feet bumping against his knees.

Then she dipped beneath the surface long enough to wet her hair.

Luntok watched her run her fingers through her dark, matted strands.

She thought he might reach for her again.

He grabbed the bar of soap lying on the edge of the tub instead.

“Come here,” he said in a low voice, gesturing her closer with a wave of his hand.

To his surprise, Laya obliged him.

Let him want.

Let him hanker.

She turned around and leaned against his torso.

His shallow breaths reverberated in her ear, and she could practically hear his heart hammering in his chest.

Laya didn’t need to call upon Mulayri’s power.

One day, she would strangle Luntok with her bare hands.

Despite the water’s scalding temperature, she shivered when he lathered the soap over her shoulder blades and down the side of her neck.

The trials of the past day had made her entire body stiffer than a bamboo rod.

He rubbed slow circles into the knotted muscles in her upper back.

His thumb dug into a sore spot, and rather than recline against him, she hissed.

Her hand jerked above the surface.

Water sloshed over the edge of the tub.

In his panic, Luntok snatched her by the wrist.

Laya’s gaze snapped over her shoulder.

“I... I wasn’t...”

The brass of the shackles had dug into her skin mere moments before, only to be replaced by his bruising grip.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Luntok released her, and she winced.

He turned away, flushing with shame as she rubbed her wrist.

But Laya could tell from the hard gleam in his eyes?—Luntok wasn’t sorry.

He’d gotten what he wanted: Laya for his wife, and the throne his family had coveted for centuries.

“This is how it’s going to be from now on, isn’t it?” she asked bitterly as she inched away.

“Wait.” Gently this time, Luntok pulled her back by the waist and rested his chin against her shoulder.

She waited for him to say something, but he had no words of comfort for her.

Laya didn’t care.

Luntok could feed her all the pretty words he liked.

Never again would she believe him.

Water dripped from the pump in light staccato.

The strength flushed out of Laya all at once; she could no longer play the coquette.

She cried again, a plaintive wail that filled the water closet.

Her sobs this time were quieter, more restrained.

Luntok stayed silent.

He comforted her until her tears subsided.

Several minutes later, she calmed herself long enough to gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“Great Mulayri. I wish I could forgive you,” she said, in a thick voice of resignation.

Luntok’s face twisted as if slapped.

“I pray that one day, you will,” he said stiffly.

Fool.

Rage surged in Laya’s blood, but she could no longer argue with him.

Sniffling, she drew her knees up to her chest.

The steam in the air cooled as they sat in the bathtub in silence.