I frowned. “Meaning?”

“That we want the same thing. For poverty to be a thing of the past.”

A bit of his courtier smoothness returned to his voice. He was keeping something from me, and I didn’t like it.

“I know you don’t trust me,” he said, after a moment. “But we’ll be spending plenty of time together soon enough. I’m going to be your council brother, aren’t I?

“I don’t know,” I retorted. “Are you? You still haven’t joined me for kuso-kuso.”

“I’d prefer to get to know you the old-fashioned way.” He cocked his head in invitation. “Spar with me, Tarisai. How about a scrimmage on the palace training grounds?”

I bit my lip, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe, unnerved by the masculine scent that lingered there. I had an involuntary flash of Zuri dancing around me at my Peace Banquet, making me spin until I was dizzy, a lithe shadow swirling just out of reach.

“Lady Empress,” I muttered, feeling sullen. “You keep forgetting my title.”

He bowed and extended a hand. “I’ll meet you halfway. How about . . . Idajo?”

I shivered at the name. Tarisai Idajo—Tarisai the Just.

Still, my fingers closed around his. “You’d better make yourself useful, Crocodile.”

He smiled, this time with no sarcasm or seduction. As he looked at me, a deep, wistful memory seemed to pass over his face like a cloud. Curiosity got the best of me. His hand still in mine, I let my Hallow explore him . . .

Only to have my own power thrust back into my mind, like a wave breaking against a dam.

I blinked, dazed. “You’re Hallowed too,” I blurted, and he smiled tightly. Zuri had thrown up mental shields of jagged adamant, the strongest I had ever encountered.

“I am. An ability to resist the inherent gifts of others.” I gasped, remembering that Ai Ling had found Zuri impossible to coerce. His smile wavered. “It is the main reason, I suspect, that I am alive, and my family is not.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. I was still holding his hand. I squeezed it tighter, just for a moment, and he lifted my palm to his lips, kissing it briefly before turning to leave the room.

“My steward will escort you back to the palace,” he said in a strange, subdued voice. “I’ll see you later, my Empress Idajo.”

CHAPTER 23

Later turned out to be the next morning.

The monthly Rising had just finished, a gaggle of courtiers bustling out of the room after dressing me and Dayo. I did not hear Zuri enter the room until he began to applaud, leaning in the arched entryway.

“Well done, Emperor. Empress Idajo,” purred Zuri of Djbanti, his nasal court voice back in full force. The gold cuff was back on his arm. “The fear you two inspire in that crowd of sycophants never ceases to impress.”