I did break away then, whirling around, enraged. “Why in Am’s name would you hope that?”

“Because a ruthless empress is a powerful one,” he said. “And power can be harnessed.” Then in a fluid movement, he slipped a hand behind my neck. I recoiled, but too late. He leapt away with his prize: my obabirin mask. It had hung from a cord, concealed beneath my blouse, before he slipped the cord over my head.

“Give that back,” I growled. “Right now.”

He twirled the cord on one finger. “Make me.”

“Are you a child?” I gasped, incredulous with anger. “That’s an imperial artifact. I could have you thrown in prison—”

“I wonder which ways our empress can die,” he said in a singsong, counting the stripes on the mask, still sashaying out of reach. “One more ruler to anoint. One missing stripe left. That means, besides old age, my little Idajo can still die of”—he squinted, examining the mask—“organ-death. Ah. But I’d still have to be creative to kill you. You’re immune to bleeding and battery, so a mere stab wouldn’t work. I suppose I’d have to carve out your heart altogether . . .”

My veins ran cold as he watched me, circling like a cat. But when humor crinkled his eyes, I realized he wasn’t threatening me at all. He was trying to make me angrier . . . and it was working.

“I said,” I rasped, vision tinting red, “give that back.”

“No.”

“Do not”—I roared, and as if with a will of their own, my arms rose, pointing the spear at him. Heat seared up the shaft, and the engraving, WURAOLA, smoldered against the wood—“contradict me!”

Zuri’s smirk vanished. Then he trembled, and every limb in his body appeared to seize. Blue light emanated from his skin. His spear and club thudded to the dirt, and then, with rigid slowness, he came toward me, arm outreached. The mask dangled from his finger. When I snatched it, he fell to his knees, gasping, and the blue light faded.

“Zuri?” My vision cleared, anger draining away. “What’s wrong with you?”

He clutched his chest, still breathing hard. But when he looked up, he smiled. “Well done.”

Suspicion crept into my voice. “What are you playing at?” I demanded. “What did you just do?”

“My dear Empress Idajo,” he laughed, gesturing at the spear I still brandished over him. “I didn’t do anything.”

Slowly, I lowered the weapon. “I . . . something happened,” I stammered. “I wasn’t myself. There was heat. I was so angry, and then . . .”

“And then I did what you said,” Zuri finished, glowing with excitement. “I had no choice, because of the noble okanoba in my blood. Your anger awoke the full potential of the Ray inside you.”

“I don’t understand,” I breathed.

“Have you truly never used it before?” His eyes narrowed. “Never once have you commanded a blueblood, and had them bend to your influence, without question?”

I began to say no . . . and then Adebimpe’s eager, pliant face appeared in my mind.