I crept forward, staring warily at the emperor’s companions, some of whom placed hands on their weapon hilts. The emperor smelled of palm oil and oranges. The folds of his wax-dyed robe rustled, and the obsidian mask dangled from his neck as he leaned down to my ear.
“Here’s what I think,” he said evenly, like a father telling a bedtime story. “I think that The Lady sent you to kill me. But first, she would have you kill my son, Crown Prince Ekundayo, heir to the imperial throne.”
“What?” I stared at him in horror. “Your Imperial Majesty, I don’t want to—”
“I think you should try,” he said, drawing a knife from his robe and thrusting it into my hand. “Go on. Try to kill me.” I trembled, but he clenched my fingers around the knife hilt and brought the blade to his neck. “Try,” he repeated, with a smile that warned me not to disobey. The blood drained from my face. Squeezing my eyes shut, I put pressure on the blade.
It didn’t budge.
At Olugbade’s urging, my hand pressed the knife hilt harder, then with all my strength. But the knife did not touch the emperor’s neck. A hair’s width of space lay between the blade and his skin: a thin, invisible barrier that no amount of force would make yield.
Olugbade chuckled, releasing my hand. The knife clattered to the floor.
“Do you know what this is, Tarisai?” he asked, gesturing to the lion on his chest. After my reluctant attack, one of the stripes in the lion’s mane had begun to pulse with lurid light.
“It’s a mask,” I stammered. “Is that—is that why I couldn’t hurt you?”
“No.” Olugbade laughed. “This mask is merely proof of my right to rule Aritsar. Proof of the power inside me. Every stripe in the lion’s mane is a death I cannot die. The only people in Aritsar who may kill me,” he said, “the only people in the entire universe—are here in this room.” He gestured to the group of eleven men and women, who clustered protectively around him. “I will not die until this body crumbles with old age. That is the power of the Ray, child. That power filled my father before me, and fills my son now. Only a Raybearer’s Council of Eleven may kill him. Such is the divine protection of heaven. And none shall thwart it.” He smiled tightly. “Not even your clever, clever Lady.”
THE RHYME FROM THE SWANIAN CARAVANS echoed in my head:
Eleven danced around the throne,
Eleven moons in glory shone,
They shone around the sun.
“Eleven what?” I blurted. “What are the Eleven? Why does everyone keep talking about them?”
I could have heard a feather drop. The courtiers of the purple chamber stared, mouths agape.
Then Olugbade’s laugh boomed. “You are a good mummer, Tarisai of Swana.”
“I don’t think she’s acting,” said a Mewish man. A tartan mantle draped across his pale chest, and he stroked a short red beard. He examined me with deep-set green eyes, alert with humor. “Am’s Story. The Lady is a genius.”
Olugbade continued to chuckle, though it sounded forced. “Don’t be absurd, Thaddace.”
“It’s not absurd. It’s brilliant.” The man called Thaddace shook his head. “Consider: The Lady knew each child must be found pure of heart. So she raised a child in complete ignorance of the Imperial Councils. Unless we can prove she’s faking her innocence, the law requires us to let her meet Prince Ekundayo. A diabolical plan, to be sure—but brilliant all the same.”
“She will meet the prince over my dead body,” hissed a lady seated at Olugbade’s side. Her face reminded me of a spearhead: long with a pointed chin, beady eyes darting from me to the emperor. Her accent was from Nyamba, Oluwan’s neighboring realm, where people read futures in the stars. “Olugbade. You will not let this girl, this thing anywhere near our son.”
“It’s the law,” Thaddace interjected. “Divine law, Nawusi. She washed in the basin. We at least have to check if she has a Hallow; we can’t get rid of her without breaking the rules—”
“Hang the rules,” snapped Nawusi. “If Ekundayo anoints this brat onto his council, his Ray won’t be able to protect him. We might as well sign his death warrant.”
“And you know this to be fate?”
The woman paused, pressing her lips together. “I did not see it in the stars,” she admitted. “But the girl is that woman’s spawn.”
Thaddace sighed. “If we deny her a chance, we profane holy rites. Dayo’s council could