agbada: a pale gold kaftan with heavily draped sleeves, winking with sunstones and raised white braid. Judging from the bags beneath his eyes, he had slept no better than I had.
I’m sorry, he Ray-spoke. I know sentencing your mother today will be hard—
Let’s not talk about it, I replied, avoiding his gaze, then said aloud, “Can we start?” I shivered in my thin robe. “I’m tired of being naked.”
Attendants signaled for a wizened griot to enter the chamber, and my dressing ritual began. The griot sang a parable about the triumph of justice, keeping time on a hand drum while, one by one, each of my council siblings handed me an item of clothing.
“As High Priestess, I will lean on you,” said Kirah, handing me part of my gown. “So as High Lady Judge, you may lean on me.”
“As High Lord General, I will lean on you,” said Sanjeet, handing me a bangle. “So as High Lady Judge, you may lean on me.”
“As High Lady of Castles,” said Mayazatyl, painting a dot on my brow, “I will lean on you …”
Soon all eleven of my siblings had murmured the vow of support, and I stood fully dressed before the semicircle of mirrors, not recognizing my maze of reflections.
My empire-cloth gown was so white, I was surprised it did not chill my skin. The fabric wrapped snugly around my frame and stopped beneath my arms, leaving my collarbone bare. An avalanche of cloth unfurled in a train from my shoulder blades. A necklace of polished cowrie shells draped in strands across my breast. Dots of paint, Swana-style, scattered the bridge of my nose, and arched over each eye. The tall points of a spiked halo headdress gleamed in my hair, ivory spears framing my face like moonbeams.
High Judge Thaddace would escort me into the ruling. When he arrived at the lounge, I curtsied, barely able to bend beneath the stiff fabric. I noticed then that we matched; instead of the plaid wool of Mewe, he wore an empire-cloth tunic, bleached white clashing uneasily with his pale complexion.
He offered his arm. When I laid mine on top, he leaned down and murmured, “There is no justice …”
“There is only order,” I finished tonelessly, and he nodded with approval. We left the lounge, Dayo and my council following in a silent procession.
I heard the Imperial Hall before I saw it.
The rumble of thousands: courtiers, commoners, royalty from all twelve realms, dialects colliding through the cavernous gilded chamber. Sandstone gleamed beneath the domed ceiling’s skylights. Twelve onyx pillars loomed overhead. Each was chiseled in the shape of a man or a woman, one for each realm of Aritsar. Their features were hauntingly detailed, and their bodies thick as cedar trees, several stories high. Together, the giants supported the Imperial Hall dome on their stone shoulders.
Usually, the hall held twelve thrones. Today there were twenty-four raised on a multilevel dais: a united front of emperor, prince, and both imperial councils. Olugbade and his council were already seated. All of them had dressed in the ghostly white empire cloth.
The rest of the hall was standing space, with people teeming on the floor and on tiers and balconies that stacked all the way up to the ceiling. Drummers and dancers lined the hall, leading the crowds in a chant as I walked toward the dais. The song was deafening, and to understand the words, I had to read the crowd’s lips. Kwesi Idajo. Seneca Idajo. Jiao Idajo. Mawusi Idajo. Helene Idajo. Obafemi Idajo. Thaddace Idajo. The names and title of every past Anointed High Judge, culminating at last with one phrase, over and over: Ta-ri-sai Idajo. Ta-ri-sai Idajo. Ta-ri-sai Idajo: Tarisai the Just.
My council took their seats. Then I climbed the great dais, my train rustling with each step. When I sank into the wood-carved throne by Dayo’s side, the crowd hushed to a hiss, like the icy Obasi Ocean. I looked straight ahead, holding my ivory-crowned head high, as a thousand gazes bored into my skin.
I cleared my throat, and winced as the sound ricocheted. Quetzalan architects had fashioned the dais from the same echo-stone used on the Theatre Garden stage. Dayo reached to give my arm a reassuring squeeze … and then thought better of it, folding his hands in his lap. Even now, the monster inside me hungered to hurt him, scanning the dais for easily accessible weapons. Again, I convinced her to wait. The world is watching. Too many contingencies. Then I swallowed