When you meet Egungun, will you have your eyes-o?
Tell me, will you hear him, if you have no ears-o?
Dead man, dead man, fell like a coconut
Round head rolling
on the red hard ground.

Brats, Kirah Ray-spoke soothingly, sensing my anger through our blood bond.

I hunched my shoulders. Arits believed that upon death, all souls followed after Egungun: the first human being, born of Queen Earth and Am the Storyteller. Egungun roamed the Underworld beating a drum, leading souls in a parade to the paradise of Core. Those children were mocking Thaddace, who faced beheading in a matter of hours.

The former High Judge of Aritsar had done the unspeakable, an act that until two weeks ago, many had believed to be impossible: For the first time in five hundred years, an Anointed One had murdered his own Raybearer.

But Thaddace had only acted as my mother’s puppet, killing Olugbade in order to save Mbali’s life. I had revealed Thaddace and Mbali’s relationship to The Lady, giving her leverage to force his hand, and so ultimately . . . this was all my fault. Besides, Thaddace was mine. Like my council siblings, and High Priestess Mbali, and Melu the alagbato. Even Woo In and Kathleen, my mother’s Anointed Ones, held cherished places in my story.

I had pined my whole life for a family. Now that I had cobbled one together, dysfunctional and cursed as it may be . . . nothing would snatch it from me. Not even an imperial execution.

I forced my brow to relax. If my plan with Mbali and Kirah succeeded . . . Thaddace would not dance for Egungun anytime soon. Laugh at those children, I told myself. Float, confident that you will win in the end.

But an intrusive thought shook my resolve: Isn’t that what your mother would do?

My jaw hardened. For too long, Aritsar believed girls could only be two things: virtuous servants of the empire, or devious villains, like The Lady. But it was time I silenced those voices.

My lioness mask lay hidden against my chest, a bump protruding from beneath my wrapper. My fingertips warmed as my Hallow summoned hazy memories of Aiyetoro, the only other obabirin, or empress. She had lived too long ago for my Hallow to retrieve her thoughts. But the remains of her haughty confidence put a spring in my walk. Of course I could rescue Thaddace. Who could stop a divinely blessed Raybearer? Who could keep the sun from rising?

You are Tarisai Kunleo. And no one you love will ever die again.

Thaddace waited in the open-air prison of Heaven, a platform atop the tallest tower of An-Ileyoba. Kirah, Mbali, and I had made good time crossing the palace. The corridors were still sparse but for a few sleepy courtiers. Funeral shrouds bundled on our backs concealed supplies to aid Thaddace’s escape. Birinsinku tools completed our disguises—tiny vials of burial herbs and holy water, jingling on our birinsinku belts as we ran.