the section of commoners and nobility from Swana, switching from Arit to their native tongue. Then I faced another part of the hall, repeating the phrase in Nyamban. Then I swallowed hard and faced another, and another, until I had addressed the crowd in Moreyaoese, Sparti, Biraslovian, Nontish, Quetzalan, Mewish, Oluwani, Djbanti, Dhyrmish, and Blessid. “Uniformity is not unity. Silence is not peace.”
The crowd was quiet now. I could feel Olugbade’s rage simmering behind me, ready to burst. I did not have much time. Quickly I switched back to Arit, bellowing so my words could not be undone. “I, Tarisai Idajo, rule in favor of Keeya of Swana. Peace comes when stories are celebrated, not erased. Henceforth, the Unity Edict shall be revoked”—I persevered over a sea of gasps—“and replaced with the Imperial Griot Games. Every twentieth moon, all realms must send their best griot to perform the stories of their people at the capital. The most talented griot shall be rewarded from the treasury, and all performers shall receive imperial titles, for their stories bring great honor to the empire. Let the record be sealed. My First Ruling is passed.”
“No,” Thaddace and the emperor roared in unison, leaping to their feet. But they were drowned out by a sound that made the hair stand on my arms. A sound that set my heart swelling in my chest, and my legs trembling with joy and fear.
Cheers. From every side of the Imperial Hall, people were cheering, pumping fists and stamping feet, chanting in a deafening din: Idajo. Idajo. Tarisai Idajo. Beside Keeya, The Lady turned in a slow circle. Her eyes widened to moons as she watched my name on the lips of thousands, and when she looked at me again, an expression that I had never seen before transformed her features.
Wonder.
A hand clamped around mine, sending a thrill to the monster inside me: Dayo. Heart pounding, I looked up at his face expecting to see disappointment. I had purposely misled him the night before. He had thought I would kill The Lady.
But he only looked worried. “You need to get out of here,” he whispered. “Now.”
“Let go of her,” Olugbade snapped at his son. “Guards. Guards!”
Sanjeet leapt to his feet, shielding me with his arm, and in a fluid movement my council siblings joined him, surrounding me and Dayo as we hurried down from the dais. “After them,” rasped the emperor, but when I looked back, Thaddace was restraining him.
“They’ve done nothing illegal,” the High Lord Judge said, and then gestured at the crowd and hissed, “The world is watching, Olu. It is not the time for rash decisions. Let them go.” He shot a sharp look my way. “We will sort this out in private.”
Captain Bunmi and her cohort escorted me, Dayo, and Keeya through a side door, our council siblings in tow. Keeya pressed her infant to her chest, protecting his ears from the noise still blaring from the hall.
“You can return to your village in a few months,” I told her. By then, I hoped, no imperialist vigilantes would be searching for the commoner who had dared challenge Thaddace. “For now, I’ve arranged a safe house in the Swana capital. Captain Bunmi will escort you. Your family will meet you there; I’ve made sure they will want for nothing.” I began to tell her where the house was, and then stopped, aware that palace walls had ears. I squeezed her hand instead, sending my memories of the safe house into her mind. “Thank you, Keeya.”
Her face glowed. “Thank you,” she said with a grin. “I think Tegoso will not question what I name our babies again.” She winked as Bunmi’s cohort led her away, raising her son’s tiny hand. “Wave goodbye, Bopelo. Goodbye to the High Lady Judge.”
MY COUNCIL SIBLINGS, GIDDY WITH EXCITEMENT, insisted on my return to the Children’s Palace.
“You don’t need to be alone now,” Mayazatyl pointed out. “You’re done studying. Your ruling’s over.”
I shook my head. Nothing was over. The ground shivered as Idajo, Idajo continued to echo through An-Ileyoba. Then the sound surged, and all I heard was drumming, pounding in my ears: It was always inside.
My blood ran cold as pieces of a puzzle came together in my mind. “I have to go,” I said.
Escaping from my council siblings’ protective huddle, I dashed across the palace, ripping off my ivory crown, unhooking my train, and discarding my slippers as I ran. Sanjeet was hard on my bare heels. “You can’t be