She reached into her robe pocket and produced a shiny red fruit. The room tensed immediately.
“Nawusi …” Thaddace growled. “Don’t be rash—”
“Do you know what this is, Tarisai?” Nawusi cooed. “No, you don’t have these in Swana. But in Oluwan City, we eat delicacies from all over the empire. This is called an apple. They grow far to the north. Won’t you take a bite?”
“No!” Mbali exclaimed, rising to her feet. “Nawusi, how could you?”
“You’re the one who’s so sure of her power, Mbali,” Nawusi retorted. “If you’re right, then perhaps she has nothing to fear from me.”
“We must obey the law, Nawusi,” Thaddace objected. “And for Am’s sake, she’s a child.”
“Olugbade?” Nawusi turned to the emperor, raising an expectant eyebrow.
Olugbade leaned back in his chair, tenting his hands over the obsidian mask. At last, he said weakly, “Give it to her.”
Mbali’s face slackened with horror. “Olu.”
But the emperor ignored the priestess, wincing at me. “I fear we are frightening you, little one. Sometimes, adults argue over silly things. But you need not fear. Take the apple.”
A small voice in my head told me to run.
But where would I go? There were guards outside the door, and these people were powerful in ways I dared not guess. What if they chased me? Besides … Arit emperors were good. They were perfect.
I took the apple. Everyone in the room held their breath. I raised the smooth-skinned fruit, opened my mouth, and …
Mbali reached me in two strides, knocked the apple out of my hand, then kneeled and pressed me to her chest.
“Am will punish us for this,” she whispered. “Poisoning a child is an unclean game to play. No matter how powerful that child may be.”
I recoiled, staring at the apple on the floor with horror. What was this place, where adults tried to kill children? Why had The Lady sent me here?
I began to cry. Mbali made a soothing noise, pushing a wayward coil from my face. “Let us start again,” she said. “I am the High Priestess of Aritsar. Everyone in this room is a member of Olugbade’s Eleven. And really—it’s lovely to meet you, Tarisai.”
“I don’t understand,” I hiccupped.
“Aritsar is ruled by twelve people. When the emperor is a young boy, he anoints eleven children, one from each realm, to rule beside him until death. These children are gifted, special, and loyal only to the emperor.”
“And,” Thaddace murmured, “to each other.”
Mbali shot him what appeared to be a warning look … but she nodded. “A child on the council gains not only power, but a family.”
Curiosity crept into my fear. I remembered Kirah’s joke on the stairs: If we both pass the trials, we’re stuck together for life. My whole life, I had longed for friends who stayed. For the people I loved to never disappear. I glanced at the men and women clustered around Olugbade, faces animated in silent conversation. That was how I had always imagined being part of a family: draped across one another like a pride of lions, trading giggles and secrets.
“If I want to join the prince’s Eleven,” I said slowly, “what do I have to do?”
“Well … above all, you must love Crown Prince Ekundayo, and devote your life to his service.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Love the prince? That’s it?”
“In summary.” Mbali waved a hand. “There are other tests, to be sure. But what matters most is your connection with the Ray: the power of Kunleo emperors. It allows them to join eleven minds to their own. If you succeed, the prince will offer you both the Ray and his hand in councilhood. Your choice is permanent. Nothing is more important than your love—than your loyalty. Do you understand, Tarisai?” She stood and reached for me. “Good. I think you’ll like the prince. He’s—”
“Wait,” I said. “How do you all know Mother? Has she been here before?”
Another pause from Mbali. “The Lady lived at the Children’s Palace a long time ago, when Emperor Olugbade was a boy. It would be best, Tarisai, if you do not speak of your mother while at An-Ileyoba. Few people are old enough to remember when she lived here, but those who do may not look … kindly on your connection. If anyone asks, your parents are middling gentry, prosperous farmers from the Owatu region in Swana. Can you remember that?”
I nodded reluctantly. Then I scanned the room with new interest, trying to imagine The