I knew it was a mistake the moment I said it. All three of my council siblings froze.

“But you aren’t going to die,” Dayo said, and the sharpness in his tone surprised me. “You’re coming back from the Underworld. Like you promised.”

“Right.” I nodded quickly, pulse hammering. “I misspoke. I’m sorry.”

“Like you promised,” Dayo repeated, and my heart twinged. I wasn’t lying—I truly didn’t plan to die in the Underworld. But nothing was certain . . . and Dayo had never done well with uncertainty. I feared another loss would break him. In the space of a year, he had witnessed the massacre at Ebujo Temple, recovered from me stabbing him, and grieved his father’s murder.

“Yes.” I tried to smile. “I promise, Dayo.”

“Good.” He nodded once, looking petulant. “Because . . . because I won’t get coronated. Not until you return.”

I started in shock. “That’s impossible,” I said slowly. “I’m not going to the Underworld for two years. You can’t hold off a coronation for that long.”

“Says who?” he asked, signature cheer returning to his voice. “We’re already emperor and empress, as far as the Ray is concerned. The coronation’s just a symbol. Besides, if we wait until after you save the Redemptors, you’ll be crowned as a hero. Aritsar will have to accept you then!”

I doubted that very much, but knew not to challenge him any further. His desperate expression betrayed his true intention for delaying our coronation: If Dayo could convince the empire that I would return from the Underworld, he might just start believing it himself.

We nodded at the warrior, and the doors groaned open.

A solid wall of music and light accosted us, briefly blinding me.

Oh. Dayo’s flabbergasted voice echoed in our minds. Ai Ling, I knew you said the party would be grand, but this is . . . incredible.

Sconces, sprite-lamps, and free-standing torches blazed on every surface, reflecting off the marble tier seating lining the walls, which could hold thousands at full capacity. The vast chamber appeared suspended in time, high noon in the dead of night. Lighting a room this large would have cost an emperor’s ransom in palm oil. A daytime banquet would have cost much less, but considering the favor I was about to ask of our royal guests . . . well. Maybe the luxury would put them in a good mood.

It’s all about signaling, Ai Ling gushed through the Ray, her mind brimming with excitement. Show those vassal rulers that to negotiate peace, the Emperor and Empress Redemptor will spare no expense.

Secretly, I wasn’t sure peace was the message echoing from the hall’s glowing rafters. All of it—from the black-and-gold tapestries of wax-dyed cloth, to the multistory-high statues supporting the hall on giant obsidian shoulders—spoke the same words in a resounding voice:

Kneel, or be cut down.

An elaborately costumed choir sprung to attention when we entered, playing hand drums and chanting the ancient call-and-response:

Of what use—Tell us!
Of what use is an empty throne?
We have found someone worthy—Have you found someone?
Aheh, Kunleo is worthy to fill it—Yes, Kunleo is worthy to fill it.