“Right,” I said dazedly. “Dayo and I . . . own things now.”

“They’re a lot more than things,” Umansa, the newly crowned High Lord Treasurer, said with a laugh. “The Kunleo family claimed nearly every massive natural resource on the continent after establishing the empire. Quarries, river mills, lumber farms. Why do you think the Imperial Treasury never runs dry? The Kunleos generate so much wealth from raw resources, they barely even touch their revenue from taxes.”

“Oh.” My head spun. “But don’t all those places have workers? Villages that depend on them? How are Dayo and I supposed to keep track of them all?”

“You don’t,” Mayazatyl said cheerily. “Nobles manage the mills and quarries for you. Taking a cut for their trouble, of course. The crown only interferes when nobles need reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements?”

“Muscle.” She grinned. “Like war buffalo.”

“Right.” I nodded uneasily. “Well, you don’t have to read all those scrolls—I’ve read half of them already. I’ll give you my memories of what they say.”

“Or,” said Mayazatyl, “you could leave imperial defense to me, since it’s my job, and address the twelve realm monarchs waiting for you downstairs?”

I bristled, glancing busily around the chamber. “Umansa, did you ever find your lost weaving shuttle? You can’t chart your prophecies without it . . .”

“My shuttle is where it’s supposed to be,” Umansa said dryly. “You, my sister, are not.”

“Why,” I muttered, “is everyone so obsessed with this stupid banquet?” I set my jaw and wheeled to leave the room in disgust.

I barreled straight into a wall-like chest. Someone had filled the doorway. When the intoxicating wave of leather and polish hit me, I grimaced, knowing the jig was up.

“Tar?” Sanjeet held my shoulders to steady me. The gold and steel of his High General regalia glinted in the sconce light. Grim, tea-colored eyes ran perplexed patterns over my clothes. “Sunshine girl . . . why aren’t you dressed?”

Behind him stood my council sister Ai Ling, resplendent in formal state wear. She watched me worriedly, and the room seemed to freeze. The hair on my neck prickled as my siblings began to use the Ray, pulsing words and feelings through the air. I knew they were discussing me, though when I tried to listen, they blocked me out with mental shields. Irritation surged through me. I pressed into the Ray again, and fractured phrases slipped through their barrier.

. . . have to stop her. She hasn’t been the same since—

. . . handle being empress. She’s stronger than Dayo. But maybe I was wrong. We shouldn’t have encouraged her—

. . . protect her, even from herself. Even if it means—

I hardened my own mental shields to adamant, plunging the voices into silence.

“Need air,” I breathed, and pushed past Sanjeet and Ai Ling.

“Best leave her,” I heard Kirah say behind me. “I’ve been trying all evening.” But Sanjeet and Ai Ling followed anyway, hard on my heels. I regressed to an old instinct, one I had used as a child whenever the gilded walls of An-Ileyoba threatened to suffocate: