that none were missing. Then the drumming stopped, and Mbali swept through the carved double doors, joining a yawning Dayo on his dais.
“Good morning, candidates,” she cried, and we bowed in response, touching our brows and hearts.
“Good morning, Anointed Honor,” we replied.
“Why do you rise? Why did you not die in your sleep?”
“Because the Storyteller has granted me to live another day.”
“Why did the Storyteller allow you to live?”
“So that I can serve the prince, the Chosen Raybearer of Aritsar, and aspire to be one of his anointed.”
“Why must you serve the prince?”
“Because I love him more than life itself.”
Mbali smiled over us, as she always did, with a mysterious blend of serenity and deep-seated sadness. “Very good, children.”
Then the drums sounded again, releasing us for breakfast. Dayo exited first, of course, followed by his Anointed Ones. It was the least favorite part of my day.
My pain at Dayo’s growing council festered like an ulcer. As individuals, I liked them; but I envied their intimacy. After Sanjeet, Kirah had been first to connect with Dayo’s Ray. Joyfully, she had accepted his hand in councilhood, and so every other candidate from the Blessid Valley had been expelled from the Children’s Palace. I danced with Kirah at her celebration feast, grinning to suppress my tears. I knew that I could not be anointed, and now, if I ever left the Children’s Palace, I could not take Kirah with me.
Other council members followed soon after: a stern girl from Biraslov, a blind boy from Nyamba, a girl from Quetzala with a wicked sense of humor—until candidates had been anointed from all of the realms except Djbanti, Swana, and Dhyrma.
Sanjeet, even after four more years as Dayo’s protective shadow, still refused to be anointed. The remaining Dhyrmish candidates vied for his spot, though they feared Sanjeet almost as much as the Swana candidates resented me.
I could hardly blame them for hating me. I refused to join the council, and yet Dayo rarely left my side. Even now, he grinned from the hall doors, gesturing for Sanjeet and me to join his Anointed Ones for breakfast.
Hot-faced, I slunk past the other candidates, feeling dozens of jealous eyes bore into me. They would be released for breakfast by the location of their sleeping mats. The last to reach the banquet chamber had the skimpiest pick of food, and shortest time in which to eat it before the day’s tests began.
As I neared the door, I squared my shoulders, preparing myself for the question Dayo asked, without fail, every dawn.
“Do you love me now, Tarisai of Swana?”
And as always, I closed my heart to the warmth of his smile.
“Of course not,” I snorted, gesturing back at the Hall. “Not when you’ve got every child prodigy from Swana plotting to murder me.”
He raised an eyebrow, half playful, half serious. “We could send them all home tomorrow, you know. All you have to do is say yes.” I had once towered over Dayo, but now he dwarfed me. He might have been imposing, if not for that gangly frame, and those relentlessly naive black eyes. Dayo’s dense, coily hair was flattened on one side from sleep. He probably wouldn’t even notice until halfway through breakfast.
“I’m not ready to try the Ray again,” I muttered. “You know that.”
“The only thing I know,” he said, “is that you belong.”
The words stuck like darts as I followed his council to breakfast, and they continued to burn as we marched to the northern palace courtyard for weapon drills and wrestling. I beat out my anger with poles and practice spears.
Every day, I had waited for a reason to fulfill The Lady’s command. I had tried to believe that Dayo was a monster in disguise, like me. A demon destined to hurt Aritsar, to be a nightmare of an emperor. Why else, I had reasoned, would The Lady want me to hurt him?
But in the four years I had passed by Dayo’s side, I had seen no monster. Only a boy with a big, fragile heart, and hope that could fill an ocean.
I had refused to try Dayo’s Ray test again, assuming that The Lady would come retrieve me, impatient with my inaction. But as months bled into years, I could come to only one conclusion: The Lady had forgotten me entirely.
Years ago, this reality would have hurt me. But I had different ambitions now, grander dreams than earning The Lady’s love. I wanted to help Aritsar, like Kirah and the other Anointed Ones.