to break the curse, I won’t have to stay away.”
Kirah huffed a laugh. “We’d better find your purpose quick. Rumors are getting out of control.”
I turned sharply. “What rumors?”
“There aren’t many reasons why two anointed council members would sleep in a tower all by themselves,” she pointed out. “Even our council’s getting suspicious. Mayazatyl’s demanded regular reports of your belly size.” When I looked blank, she wiggled her eyebrows. “She thinks you’re carrying Sanjeet’s pikin. To save you both from palace scandal, she’s concocted an elaborate plan for Dayo to pass off your love child as his own.”
I snorted. “She would. Am’s Story,” I groaned. “When we move to An-Ileyoba for good, Mayazatyl’s gossiping rear end will fit right in.”
“I hope we never move here,” Kirah blurted. “I mean, I know we will. We have to. It’s what we’ve trained for our whole lives. It’s just …” She sighed and stopped in the tiled northern courtyard, letting the pristinely groomed peacocks explore the hem of her priestess kaftan. Beyond Palace Hill, the roofs of Oluwan City spread in a jagged sea. Smoke rose from bonfire mountains, where the stories of griots burned. “When I was in the Blessid Valley, I longed for a bigger world. I wanted to travel the empire, learn all there was to know. But the more I learn about Songland, the more suffocating Aritsar feels. I don’t know what I want. I only know the world is big, and I’m sick of pretending it’s smaller.”
The day of my First Ruling crept closer. Crowds of dignitaries, nobility, and commoners would attend, and so the palace bustled in preparation. Many royals, I learned with chagrin, would attend as well. This was unusual: The continent’s rulers typically sent a proxy to everything but the grandest imperial events. But since my First Ruling would occur so close to the Treaty Renewal, many of the empire’s royals would be at the palace already.
Kirah and I searched fruitlessly for the lost masks of Aiyetoro, the only proof that empress and princess Raybearers truly existed. We combed the Imperial Library for leads every day, and searched the palace crypts at night. I continued to visit Heaven. I could not come often, in case word got back to Olugbade, and his suspicion of me grew. But after hefty bribes, the guards allowed me to bring small gifts: a lump of soap, a thin blanket, a pot of salve for The Lady’s wind-whipped skin. After sliding the items through the bars of her cell door, I would sit—sometimes in silence, other times asking questions. She mostly ignored the latter, especially ones about her childhood. She only paid attention when I babbled about the inner workings of Yorua Keep, or about being tutored by Thaddace and Mbali.
“You rarely speak of the High Judge without mentioning the priestess,” she observed one day, cocking her head.
I shrugged and blushed. “They’re always together.”
“That sounds like a story, daughter.” When I hesitated, she laughed and patted my hand through the bars. “Do not worry for their reputation. I am hardly in a position to spread gossip.”
I was eager to make her smile again. Shyly, I recounted the time I had stumbled on Thaddace and Mbali at the height of passion. The Lady listened intently and chuckled. I joined in, the first time I had ever shared a joke with my own mother.
I wondered if she had heard the rumors about me and Sanjeet. Mothers, according to Kirah, were protective of daughters when it came to young men. But if The Lady suspected that I had flirtations, she never asked about them. The existence of a love affair—or any aspect of my life unrelated to her master plans—never seemed to cross her mind.
Sanjeet collapsed, exhausted, into my arms every night. He would gather me to himself, limbs rigid as amber until at last he relaxed, discarding the mask he wore for the Guard. On the worst days, the mask remained even as he slept. Frowning with worry, I would rub circles into his clenched jaw until it released.
“The drilling’s over,” he said one night. “We’ve begun our campaigns in the city.” The smell of bonfires still lingered in his hair. His hands were newly bruised from when civilians had fought back, resisting when their drums and books were wrenched away. Against Sanjeet’s Hallow, they would not have resisted long.
“You won’t have to enforce the Unity Edict forever,” I said, though the comfort sounded hollow even to me. “People will get used