Escape to the roof.

CHAPTER 4

When I stumbled up a narrow staircase to the suite’s elevated garden, night air enveloped me in a citrus-scented balm. Herb beds, dwarf palms, and potted fruit trees lined the flat sandstone roof, nestled prettily between the golden palace domes. My council sister Thérèse of Nontes stood swaying among the fragrant vines of kuso-kuso. Moonlight bleached her frizzy yellow hair as her Hallow forced waxy kuso-kuso leaves to sprout, flower, wilt, and sprout again, over and over until they achieved her prim standard of perfection. When I burst onto the roof, Sanjeet and Ai Ling close behind, Thérèse barely flinched.

“The others are right, you know,” she said without turning around, her Nontish accent pinched and breathy. “Tarisai, ma cherie . . . you cannot hide forever. You have been very helpful lately, though. Did you ever find my coneflower seeds?”

“You heard my argument with the others?” I asked with dread. “From two floors away?”

“Only the parts they Ray-spoke.” Thérèse gestured at the vines. “My kuso-kuso is especially strong tonight. I could probably hear you Ray-speak from the peaks of Nontes.”

“Talk to us, Tar,” Sanjeet coaxed. Through the Ray, he sent a gentle beam of warmth up my spine, making me shiver. “You’re not well. What can we do?”

I bit my lip, staring at the dark indigo sky, dotted with stars and pulsing lavender sprites. “I can’t do it,” I said at last. “I can’t face those people.”

“Those stuffy vassal rulers?” Ai Ling laughed, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “That courtier chicken coop? Trust me—they’re no match for our Empress of Aritsar.”

She sounded sincere, but then again . . . Ai Ling always did, when she needed to.

That was unfair of me. Ai Ling never used her persuasion Hallow on her council siblings. She rarely used her coercion powers at all, though that was hard for the public to believe. After two weeks as Imperial Ambassador, Ai Ling had already calmed two rowdy crowds who had arrived at the palace to protest my rule, swaying them with her speeches. She’d brokered a trade deal between Songland and Aritsar, despite Songland’s reasonable distrust of Aritsar. But Ai Ling’s melodious voice—her quick wit, and sharp negotiation savvy . . . those were no Hallow. They were just her: my sister, the unflappable Ai Ling of Moreyao.

“Sorry I’m being so much trouble,” I mumbled, and grimaced at her stunning formal wear. Her outfit had sprouted wrinkles after she chased me up to the garden. Torchlight glimmered on her peach silk hanfu—the flowing robes of her home realm—and pearl ornaments dangling in her hair.

Ai Ling had arranged tonight’s Peace Banquet single-handedly. She had convinced all the continent rulers to remain at An-Ileyoba, instead of leaving after I had sabotaged the Treaty Renewal. Floors below in the Imperial Hall, twelve rulers waited for me to seduce them into loyalty. Into bonding their minds with me for life. But—