Our banquet guests—all one hundred of them—joined in, and my bladder threatened to send warm rivulets down my thighs.

I am not allowed to be terrified, I reminded myself. I was a Kunleo, and this was our court. Our palace.

If this was a den of snakes, then Dayo and I were the cobras who ruled it.

I had heard the ancient call-and-response before—Kunleo is worthy to fill it. But it still made my face burn. Whenever Dayo and I left the palace, children sang to us in the streets, tossing petals and handmade effigies onto the roof of our palanquin. The adoration of strangers had always unnerved me. But as I scanned the faces of my banquet guests, wincing at their hostility . . . I supposed being feared by strangers wasn’t much better.

The new Kunleo seal blazed on the distant domed ceiling: two overlapping suns, representing the joint reign of two Raybearers, circled by a wreath of interlinked hands. Long, low feast tables lined the hall, golden in the festive lamplight. Ai Ling, Kirah, and Dayo took their places near the head of the tables, sinking onto tasseled velvet cushions. I remained standing.

Now, Ai Ling Ray-spoke.

Just as we had rehearsed, I lifted my hands toward the multistory windows, sweeping my arms in a flourish. The banquet guests gasped as hundreds of lavender tutsu sprites poured through the arches, congregating above us in the ombre of the domed ceiling.

Sprites never left the land they were born in, unless poached to be sold as lamps and baubles. So no one had been prepared when, three weeks ago, a cloud of Swanian tutsu had congregated outside my window at An-Ileyoba Palace.

I told everyone the truth, naively thinking it would help: My father was Melu the alagbato, a guardian spirit from Swana. After liberating myself from my father’s curse, my scent now seemed to attract sprites from leagues away. The announcement dazzled Arit commoners and terrified palace courtiers, with few opinions in between.

To all of Aritsar, I was either a god or a demon.

The sprites arranged themselves in twinkling constellations, recreating the Oluwan night sky. My stomach flipped with relief. Tutsu sprites strongly disliked being indoors, and it had taken days of practice before the creatures entered when I summoned them.

The crowd applauded, some with delight, others with wariness. Many recognized that a flex of power, however beautiful, could just as easily be a threat. Where some saw a blanket of stars, others saw a glittering army over their heads.

Ai Ling’s words echoed—Fear is a tool. So I only smiled, attempting to look aloof and serene. Let them be a little afraid.

Feasting began when I lifted a bowl of kola nuts above my head, intoned a greeting, and then passed the bowl around—an ancient gesture of welcome. Queen Hye Sun of Songland, her heir Crown Princess Min Ja, and the eleven vassal rulers of Aritsar sat in silence at my table. Nerves frazzled my concentration, and the multicomplexioned faces blended together as I tried to take them in. The oldest monarch could easily be my grandfather, and the youngest, to my surprise, looked barely thirteen. Each ruler touched the bowl and nodded, signaling their acceptance.