My hips twitched absently, infected by the beat. For just a moment, I considered recovering miraculously from my illness and joining the dancers below, melting into the din of color and sound.

But how can you celebrate?

I jumped, pulse racing as my eyes searched the dais. The glyphs on my arms stung like acid. The lisping treble voice spoke at my ear . . . but no one was there. Then I saw it—barely visible in the bright light of the hall, a child stood. A Redemptor, like the one who had killed Thaddace—though this one hovered, an apparition whose features were so decayed, I could not guess its gender.

“Are you all right, Your Imperial Majesty?” asked a fidgeting cupbearer, pausing on the steps to my dais. The servant had clearly approached out of concern, offering me a chalice of wine, though she knew decorum forbade me from drinking it. I rose from my seat and snatched it anyway, tense as a cornered hare.

“Don’t you see it?” I hissed.

The cupbearer opened her mouth, then closed it. “I . . .” She followed my gaze to the apparition, then said, her tone warily neutral, “What would you like me to see, Lady Empress?”

The revelries continued around us. And with slow, cold dread, I realized that no one could see the child except me.

I sat back down.

You are not real, I thought at the child, trying not to hyperventilate. The boy who killed Thaddace was real, but you aren’t. I’m sick. After the banquet, I’ll have Kirah sing to me, and I’ll be healed, and you will go away.

The apparition cocked its head as if I’d spoken aloud.

It is true that I am not here, it said in a patient monotone. I am with the others. But I am real. You did not answer my question. How can you celebrate?

Stop it, I thought, shaking my head over and over. Stop it. You’re not real.

How can you celebrate? the creature repeated, hovering closer. How can you smile and throw parties, when so many of us have died? The child Redemptors that your empire murdered will never dance or sing again. Don’t you care?

All of a sudden, the joyous banquet display, the whirlwind of light and color dimmed in my eyes. A wave of guilt crashed into me, overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I—I know Aritsar has done wrong. I’m trying to fix it. That’s why I’m anointing Min Ja. That’s what this banquet is for.”

The creature stilled, and for a moment, its icy aura crossed the dais, goose bumps traveled up my arms and neck. Then its voice roared in my ears.

DO MORE, it said. Do more.

And once again I was alone, as though the child had never been. I lifted the chalice to my lips, hands trembling as I gulped down its contents.

“Er—more wine, Lady Empress?” the cupbearer squeaked, and I jumped.

I had forgotten she was there. The color had drained from her face, and I realized with chagrin that she’d seen me talking to myself. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Well, half the court already thought me a witch. I supposed it was no different if they thought me a loon as well.