Ji Huan, the boy king of Moreyao, blurted out, “But we don’t have powers.” He looked no older than thirteen, and drowned in a red silk robe embroidered with blossoms. “Anointed Ones are Hallowed, aren’t they?”

“I won’t require Hallows of my Anointed Ones,” I told him with a wink. “This council . . . I want it to be different. It won’t exist to protect me, but to save the empire. To build bonds of trust that can withstand attacks from the abiku.” I still wore the sunstone from the Nu’ina Eve festival at the base of my throat, and it warmed as the words poured out of me. “This is bigger than me—than any of us. If we create a new council, we won’t only save thousands of children. We’ll have created a future for Aritsar beyond the Redemptor Treaty. No one remembers how weak our isolated kingdoms were before the empire, but if the history scrolls are true, then we’re safer—and stronger—together. Please . . . help me keep it that way.”

The faces around the table grew still, stunned and thoughtful. My heart surged with hope—and then a cold, breathy voice asked:

“What if we can’t love you?”

Blue eyes framed in crow’s-feet peered at me from beneath a fringe of straw-colored curls. Queen Beatrix of Nontes fluttered two lace fans, an affectation of distress. “I mean no offense,” she mewled. “But in order to accept the Ray, we have to love you, yes? The trouble is—I find it much easier to have respect for men. I do not get along with girls. Women together, we are . . . ” Queen Beatrix gestured airily around the table, though her fan stopped on me. “Irrational. Emotional. I can’t imagine ruling an empire with a woman. Let alone having one in my thoughts.”

I took several deep breaths, blinking at her. “I . . . don’t understand, Your Majesty. You are a queen. And I’ve had girls in my head for years. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine ruling without them.”

Beatrix looked doubtful. Ai Ling and Kirah made faces when the queen wasn’t looking, wiggling their eyebrows at me from across the table. I forgot to tell you, Ai Ling Ray-spoke gayly. Beatrix is one of those ladies. You know—the ones who think it’s sexy to have an inferiority complex. I stifled a snort, and my sisters’ laughter rang in my mind.

I wished suddenly that Mayazatyl, Emeronya, and Thérèse could be here too. No—I wished that we were back at Yorua Keep, giggling on a sun-soaked beach, with no worries but our scrolls and riddle games, as we fed one another figs and cornrowed each other’s hair. I had the best sisters I could ever ask for.

So how could I ever anoint someone like Beatrix?

I sighed, praying to the Storyteller for patience, and forced a smile. “Love is complicated,” I told the Nontish queen. “All I ask, Your Majesty, is that you’re willing to try.”