Calmly, Ai Ling joined me on the echo-stone and said, “It would be better, perhaps, if questions were posed one at a time.”

The Hallowed suggestion fell on the room like a thick mudcloth blanket. A few stubborn-minded people still muttered at their seats, but most hushed at Ai Ling’s request, looking vaguely ashamed of themselves.

First to speak was King Helius of Sparti, a graying man with sea-whipped skin. Curling chest hair bristled around a gold-edged chiton. “With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesties,” he sputtered, “whether or not we are willing to try to love the empress is immaterial. Suppose you succeed. What then? We live in Oluwan forever, stuck to her side, neglecting our own countries? Sacred Oceans—my absence in this past month alone has stalled the launch of several ships! Sparti’s trade will grind to a halt, and our fisheries won’t be far behind.”

The other rulers grunted in agreement, and the rumble threatened to return.

“We have a plan for that,” Ai Ling piped up, digging in her pocket and placing a sachet of dried leaves on the table. The smell hit me instantly, sharp and heady.

“The kuso-kuso herb?” asked Queen Danai of Swana. Silvery white locs shone in intricate patterns on her head, and she appraised Ai Ling with keen eyes. “But that is a dreaming aid. How will that help us?”

Ai Ling smiled mysteriously. “It’s true—in some regions of Aritsar, entire villages inhale kuso-kuso smoke together, allowing for communal dreaming. But our council has been experimenting with ways to send messages across long distances, improving communication between realms.” She paused for effect. “Turns out, you don’t have to inhale kuso-kuso in the same room to dream together. If two or more strongly bonded individuals dream at the same time . . . their minds unite. Wherever they are. The dreams are as potent as speaking in person, alleviating council sickness through the Ray.”

Dayo beamed at Ai Ling, and she colored. “It’s brilliant,” he said. “Once each monarch is anointed, they won’t even have to stay in Oluwan. So Tarisai’s new council can commune anytime, anywhere.”

Impressed voices rippled down the table. Then Crown Princess Min Ja of Songland’s alto cut through the others, smooth and piercing. “What I don’t understand,” she said, “is what any of this has to do with Songland.”

I tried not to quail beneath her stare. Min Ja seemed to glow in her traditional Songlander attire—a full skirt and matching jacket of crisp pastel silks, blues and whites icy against her golden skin. She had the satiny black hair and fine bone structure of her younger brother, Woo In, and shared the same glint in her jaded dark eyes. The last time I had seen that expression—bristling grief masked by anger—Woo In had been holding a knife to my mother’s cheek, unaware of the poison seeping into her bloodstream.

Tread lightly, Kirah Ray-spoke to me.

I tensed at the warning. You’ve been getting to know the queen and the princess, right? What should I know?