held up the sunstone. “I will bear fruit for Aritsar,” I said sharply, “with my imperial scepter. As your High Lady Judge, equality and justice will be my children. Perhaps,” I added coolly, “my only children. Long live the sun and moons.” The crowd fell silent. Without rushing, I pocketed the sunstone, collected my crown of grass, and returned to my seat. As I passed, the villagers who had snickered lowered their eyes in fear. Good.
Then it was Sanjeet’s turn. He looked resplendent in black as he approached the vessels, decked in the long embroidered tunic and linen trousers of Dhyrma princes. When the elders saw his token, they were silent for even longer than they had been for me. From a distance away, Sanjeet seemed to hold an ivory stone. Then he turned the object toward the firelight.
It was a small carved skull.
“Your hands were made for death,” a masked elder said simply. “There is no other interpretation. You may not trade this token.”
An indignant murmur rose from my council’s dais. “That’s not fair,” I sputtered.
But Sanjeet only shrugged. “It’s nothing I don’t already know.” He rolled the skull around in his wide palm. “I hoped once that Am would use my hands to heal instead of kill. But I am overruled. A High Lord General protects the innocent. I will dirty my hands to keep my prince clean.” Then he knelt to accept his festival crown.
The village girl who held the wreaths didn’t move. When Sanjeet glanced up at her, the whites of her eyes flashed in terror.
“Rude girl,” one of the village mothers scolded, looking embarrassed. “You must crown His Anointed Honor.”
The child did not move, staring at Sanjeet like a cornered deer. “I don’t want to,” she mewled. “I don’t want to.”
Sanjeet paled. “Please.” He held out his hand to the child and smiled. “Don’t be afraid.”
She leapt as though Sanjeet had tried to strike her. “No, Prince’s Bear, don’t hurt me—” She burst into tears and bolted back into the crowd, abandoning Sanjeet’s grass crown in the dirt.
Sanjeet knelt for a long time, staring at the crown in silence. Then he stood, face hardening into its usual mask. A few brave villagers came to dust the crown off, flocking around Sanjeet and bobbing with apologies, as Dayo and the others made a fuss, demanding the elders supply another interpretation.
I said nothing, though my feet carried me from the dais. The scene around me faded to white noise, and my vision tunneled. I had to keep moving—I could not back down, not now. As my skin poured with cold sweat, a panicked cry cut through the air.
“Anointed Honor Tarisai is crossing the pit!”
My bare soles chafed on the hot wooden grain. I had left my sandals on the pit’s edge. The board was barely wide enough for both my feet; I had to place one in front of the other, forcing me to look down.
The inferno grinned at me.
I choked back a cry as the coals shifted, sending up a cloud of embers. The pit was gone, and I was running again toward the Children’s Palace bedroom doors. The air was blistering, and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and Dayo was going to die all over again and it would all be my fault …
My vision swirled in red and white, blind as my feet continued to cross that flimsy board. My eyes stung and wept from the smoke. A sea of forked tongues rose with the heat and light, roaring in my ears: ours, ours, ours. And in that moment, I realized the true reason I feared fire.
It knew.
Fire recognized me for what I was. It claimed me as a daughter; it crackled and commanded that I burn and destroy. Fire would not hurt me, because fire had made me.
And someday, Made-of-Me, murmured a voice as my nostrils filled with a musky floral smell, I will have you once again.
“No,” I whispered, and stumbled. Then my soles met cool, dark earth. Arms reached to steady me as my guards and council siblings babbled with relief. They checked me for burns and dusted the embers from my wrapper, stamping the sparks in the dirt. I shook all over but ignored the fuss, pushing through the crowd to where Sanjeet stood frozen.
Water pooled in his eyes. The mask had fallen from his face, replaced with shock, disbelief, and a simmering passion that made my knees weak.
I took the skull from him and held it above my head.