I smiled coldly. “You are not children,” I agreed. “Some of you are greedy, ready to grasp at land and resources no matter who it hurts—and that is exactly what I’m counting on.”

Confused chatter from the crowd. I glanced back at Zuri, who watched me with deepened curiosity.

“As your Empress Redemptor and High Lady Judge of Aritsar,” I declared, “I hereby pass the Watchman Edict. As of the next moon, the crown will strip lands from any noble clan who refuses to cede the Kunleo-owned resources in their jurisdiction. The crown will then award the confiscated land to another clan . . . whichever one reports the crime.”

I watched wheels turn behind the warlords’ pompous faces, from which the smugness gradually faded.

“You will police each other,” I said simply. “Many of your clans have been rivals for decades, and each would leap at the chance to gain your neighbor’s property at the first whiff of illegal operations. The burden of proof will be on the reporter. But with lands to win,” I added, “I’m sure you’ll be resourceful. So . . .” I crossed my arms. “What have you to say, nobles of Aritsar? Any objections?”

I braced myself for an onslaught, but to my fascination, the courtyard had gone quiet. Greed hung in the air like a sensual veil of smoke. Already I could sense them plotting, panicking, wondering how soon they could unveil the illegal operations of their neighbors.

Behind me, Zuri gave a low whistle of admiration. “Diabolical, Idajo,” he slurred. “Wish I’d thought of it myself.”

Again, the kola nut bowls were passed around the courtyard. I held my breath as, one by one, the clan leaders of Oluwan, Swana, Quetzala, Mewe, Moreyao, and every other Arit realm bit and spat, accepting my edict and hurrying from the courtyard . . . all except the warlords of Djbanti.

“Unlike our fellow Arit lords,” Gakuru hissed, “we Djbanti are not easily led by imperial tricks. The clans of other realms may squabble in rivalry, but we warlords learned to stand together ages ago. We know from experience that when nobility unites—in trade or in war—no one may stand against them. Not even a king.” He sneered at Zuri, then turned to me. “Not even an empress.”

“You will accept my edict,” I snapped. “No matter how powerful your forces are, they cannot stand against the entire Imperial Guard.”

“But of course we accept, Imperial Majesty.” Still grinning, Gakuru bowed, bit a kola nut, and spat loudly on the ground. “Just don’t expect to receive any reports from Djbanti anytime soon.”

My face flushed. Slowly, my heart sank to my sandals. This had been my plan’s weakness—at the end of the day, I still depended on nobles to be my eyes and ears. If Zuri’s warlords were unwilling to report disobedience, then how could I eradicate dissent?

I turned to Zuri for help, but he only raised an eyebrow, nodding at my chest, where my mask lay hidden beneath my wrapper. “You know what to do.”