Dayo’s, as well as the mantle-passing ceremony for the new Emperor’s Eleven.
We would move from the Children’s Palace into the Imperial Suites: a maze of interconnecting chambers, with a special apartment for the emperor. Already, Dayo had ordered more apartments built for me, though I had tried to stop him. I couldn’t imagine being apart from my siblings. Though if I was to please the abiku, I would have new siblings soon.
The faces of the twelve Arit rulers flashed in my mind: old and young, dark and pale, all frowning at me with suspicion. I sucked in a breath. Some of the rulers were old enough to be my grandparents. They hadn’t asked for this. How was I supposed to convince them to respect me? To …
Love me?
And what about the rest of the empire? Commoners, warriors, nobility … If I survived the Underworld, I would rule them alongside Dayo. Sanjeet had said that I was popular among commoners, and respected by the Imperial Guard. But surely there would be pushback, and the nobility had no reason to trust me at all. What if no one wanted the daughter of an ehru and a traitor, an empress-turned-Redemptor?
My stomach grumbled. I hadn’t eaten since leaving Woo In on Sagimsan Mountain, and whatever Melu had done to rejuvenate me had worn off. Perhaps there was food left in the banquet chamber. I slipped out of Sanjeet’s arms and padded barefoot from the Hall of Dreams.
I jumped—Imperial Guard warriors lined the corridor. What were they doing here? It was only the Children’s Palace … Oh. Right.
They were guarding Dayo, the emperor of Aritsar. And me. The Empress Redemptor.
“Can I help you, Your Imperial Majesty?” one of the female guards intoned, stepping forward. Her head was shaved and her features were vaguely familiar.
“I haven’t eaten,” I said groggily. “It’s all right, don’t wake the cooks. I’ll just—” The guard’s gaze locked on mine, and I froze.
She was Oluwani, with ordinary dark brown features. But her face had changed just for a moment, a mask dropped, revealing a tawny face with green eyes. Then it returned to normal.
“Are you sure,” the guard said, “that there’s nothing I can do for you?”
“Banquet chamber,” I whispered. She bowed smoothly and led the way.
The Children’s Palace banquet chamber was as I remembered it: a mosaic-tiled floor and long kneeling tables with tasseled seat cushions. The servants had cleared most of the night’s feast away, but baskets of kola nuts and oranges already lined the tables for breakfast.
“What do you want, Kathleen?” I asked the guard, taking a piece of fruit and peeling it with trembling hands.
“It’s not about what I want,” she snapped, dropping the illusion to reveal her true face. As in the disguise, her scalp was bare; she had shaved her head in mourning. Her voice broke with repressed tears. “It’s about what you owe her.”
Then she held out a burning oil lamp and a scrap of paper. I recognized my mother’s script on the calfskin: a page from one of her journals. The hair on my neck rose as I realized what Kathleen wanted.
“No,” I said, dropping my peeled orange and backing away.
“She was your mother,” Kathleen spat. “And she’s dead! Murdered! Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care,” I shot back. “But there’s nothing I can do. And don’t you dare say I owe her. I’m not like you. I didn’t swear my life to her service; I didn’t choose any of this.”
For a moment, Kathleen looked as though she might strike me. Then she inhaled, her voice measured with desperation. “Shades can only come back once. The rest of us—her Anointed Ones—we’ve all tried to summon her. To say goodbye, to make sure she’s all right. But she won’t come. She’s waiting for you.”
I swallowed, staring hard at the mirrored ceiling, my reflection murky in the shadows. Then before I could change my mind, I accepted the oil lamp. I held The Lady’s journal page to the flames, completing the summoning ritual.
The air went cold.
I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, The Lady stood in the center of the banquet hall. Shadows draped her translucent form like a floor-length mantle. I fought a giddy, unnatural urge to laugh—even in death, my mother managed to look like an empress.
Kathleen burst into tears and ran to her, thrusting her arms around The Lady’s shrouded figure.
The Lady embraced her, stroking her shaved head and kissing her cheek. Then she whispered in her ear. Kathleen glanced