I retorted, “But what if I don’t want to answer your—”

The warriors drowned out my question. They had begun to sing in brassy voices, grinning at me facetiously.

Can you see him, girl?
(Is she clever?)
Can you hear him, girl?
(Is she pretty?)
The bird that will lead you to honey?

If you find him-o
(Are her lips full?)
If you catch him-o
(Are her hips wide?)
Pretty maiden, you had better come hungry!

Giggling whispers peppered the Imperial Hall. My face heated.

A courting game. Zuri—this cheeky, empty-headed fop of a king—had dragged me into a courting game.

I narrowed my eyes at him, determined now to win the game, if only to demand what made him so presumptuous. I could just make out the top of his locs as he danced, a lithe shadow behind the circle of warriors. The warriors stepped in the opposite direction, as though to confuse me further. Zuri danced back and forth, shifting directions sharply, causing me to do the same. I realized then he had timed the shifts, forcing me to move in time to the song. My scant top of cowrie shells chafed against my skin. I swabbed my damp brow, cracking a smile.

“Well played,” I panted. He had tricked me into dancing after all.

The song increased in tempo until I grew dizzy, and lost sight of Zuri’s hair. I whirled in desperation, but the beats sped by—five, six, seven—and the game was over. Zuri broke the circle, sinewy chest glistening with sweat, and grinning as the warriors chanted and closed around us.

I scowled, crossing my arms . . . but before I could register what was happening, Zuri had lifted me by the waist, just as Dayo had lifted Ai Ling in the ijo agbaye. I gasped, hands flying to his shoulders. He whirled me in an elegant spin, set me on my feet, and leaned down to my ear.

My breath grew shallow.

He smelled sharp and sweet, like spear polish masked with agave. His lips brushed my cheek. And in a moment of temporary insanity, I almost—almost—wished he had found my mouth instead.

Then he asked, in a voice as cold as silk, “Who killed Thaddace of Mewe?”

I recoiled like he had slapped me.

He looked immediately regretful. “Forgive me, Tarisai. I meant no—”

I wrenched out of his arms. The hall was tilting around me. The towering obsidian statues blurred and fell together in great pillars of black, and then I was back in that abandoned hallway, Thaddace’s blood streaming across the tiles. The boy was wailing at me, convulsing with words I didn’t understand. Then he was crumbling to dust, and Thaddace was dead, and it was all my fault, and . . . and—

The Imperial Hall rose to meet me. Zuri lurched forward, breaking my fall.

“I’m an idiot,” he breathed as he braced me up. The satin had vanished from his voice. “That was a tasteless joke; curiosity got the best of me. I’m sorry, Tarisai.”