council, you can’t claim any more children as Redemptors. Give me ten years.”
The abiku scoffed, chuckling. “One.”
I balled my hands into fists. “Five.”
They considered, cocking their heads. “Two. Our final offer.”
Slowly, I picked up the dagger that Dayo had dropped on the dais. Then, slitting my palm, I let my blood spill into Enoba’s shield on the floor. “Done,” I said, and my arms began to prickle.
I watched in horror as blue symbols grew like lace across my forearms, twisting in intricate patterns.
“A mark of your promise,” the abiku tittered. Then they vanished.
The hall dissolved into frenzied whispers. Dayo took up my slashed palm, staring at it with grief and wonder.
“You’re breaking your promise again,” he said. His imperial sun crown, an upright gold disc, glinted in my eyes. “You’re leaving.”
“Not for two years. And who knows? Maybe I’ll survive the Underworld.” I tried to smile, but my lips faltered. “I’m sorry, Dayo.”
“Don’t be.”
He swallowed hard, then clasped my hand and raised it in the air. Blood ran down our interlaced fingers. He addressed the Imperial Hall, tears glistening on his half-scarred face. “Long live the heir of Aiyetoro,” he said. “Hail your Empress Redemptor.”
AFTER THE TREATY RENEWAL, MY COUNCIL retreated to the Hall of Dreams, and I poured out all my secrets.
I stood as they sat around me on stuffed pallets, listening blankly as I confessed about my mother’s wish. I told them how I had stabbed Dayo, discovered that I had the Ray, and freed myself from the curse by choosing justice, even to death, over my freedom. I longed to soften the story, drape it in downy caveats and excuses. But I resisted, letting the facts stand naked—that much, at least, they deserved from me.
They were silent for a full minute. I searched each of their faces with terror, expecting to find my damnation etched there. Then Emeronya came forward and touched my brow, mimicking the gesture I had used every night in the Children’s Palace, giving her sweet dreams of snow and lullabies.
“As I lean on you, Empress,” she said in her characteristic monotone, “you may lean on me.”
Umansa touched my face next, wetting his fingers with my tears. “As I lean on you, Empress,” he said, smiling at the space over my head, “you may lean on me.”
Then it was Ai Ling and Mayazatyl, Kameron and Thérèse, Zathulu and Theo … and last, Kirah, who grinned impishly as she repeated the vow. “When you first came here, I had to teach you what ice was,” she said afterward. “Don’t forget that when you’re big and mighty, Empress.”
“I won’t,” I said, and my heart sank as I considered her. “Kirah, I think I’ll need your help.”
“You think?”
“I know.” I laughed, though a lump was forming in my throat. “Between recruiting the continent rulers for my council and preparing for the Underworld, I won’t have time to fix relations between Aritsar and Songland. But we can’t just ignore them. Not after what we did to them for centuries. We need to send an Imperial Peace Delegate, someone familiar with Songland customs. Or at least—someone who’s read a lot about them.”
Kirah’s lips parted, slack with surprise.
“It might take months. Years even,” I continued. “But if you can convince them to trade with us, then we can install a Songland ambassador at An-Ileyoba. I suspect that once he’s recovered, a certain sullen prince might be up for the job.”
Say no, I begged silently. Don’t leave me, not now. Stay, be Kirah, the anchor in my storm of curses and secrets.
Her hazel eyes misted. “I’ll think about it,” she said, but the excited tremor in her voice betrayed her; she had already decided. When she folded me in a cinnamon-scented hug, I smiled into her shoulder. No more cages, I thought. Not for Kirah, anyway.
Last was Sanjeet. We hadn’t been alone since I returned from Sagimsan, and ever since I had offered myself to the abiku, he had barely looked at me. Did he think I’d been reckless? When he came forward at last, anger and pain deepened the hard lines of his face. And instead of touching my brow, his hands clenched my blue-marked forearms.
“I will lean on you, Empress,” he said in a guttural voice, “if you promise you’ll come back.”
I gulped. “Jeet—”
“Promise,” he said, “that you’ll fight to leave the Underworld. That this isn’t some stupid, idealistic suicide mission to pay penance for a crime you did not do.”