Ours, they sang in wordless harmony. Tar is ours, and Tar is enough. And right when my shoulders began to relax . . .

It happened again.

A translucent Redemptor child shimmered into being, gliding across the salon floor and passing through the bodies of my siblings. The glyphs on my arms smoldered. The creature smiled emptily, holding a grimy finger to its lips.

The ojiji’s mouth did not move. Still, it said: Don’t tell them.

“It’s happening now, isn’t it?” demanded Kirah. She felt my forehead, her hazel eyes sharp and grave. “Tell me, and I’ll sing for you.”

Your friends do not see what you see, the apparition sighed. They are spoiled by privilege. Numb to the true cost of change.

I recoiled at the words, which rang true. I had just been thinking the same thing earlier, when Mayazatyl had whined about my desire to improve the empire. But Emeronya had said these creatures meant me harm. That they told both truth and lies.

They are blind, great Empress Redemptor. They are blind, and you are alone.

What was truth, and what was a lie?

My eyes slid to Kirah. I knew then, with grim intuition, that I did not have an illness my friends could cure. Kirah could sing down the moon and stars, and my siblings could cover me in hugs and spells and promises . . . and that undead child would still be there, lisping its cold, pure truth.

You are alone.

Woodenly, I pressed Kirah’s hand. From a distance, I heard my voice say, “Go on, all of you. I was overreacting. Do the jobs you’ve been training for. You’re right—I’ve been different. But now, I’ll be fine.” A smile stretched on my face as my stomach sank, sour with the certainty that this lie would be the first of many. “I’ll be just fine.”

CHAPTER 10

Eight of my eleven council siblings vanished toward the corners of the continent, and within hours, I stood with Dayo before the craggy Olojari Mountains, clutching my stomach from the lodestone journey.

“I wonder why that never gets easier,” Dayo mused as we left the guarded port.

I laughed shortly and stuck a finger in my ear, which still rang with enchanted vibrations. Thankfully, the ojiji appeared not to have followed me through the lodestone. Still, I wondered if they lay in wait, always just beyond human sight. Sweat beaded on my brow, and not just from fear. In contrast to Oluwan City with its cool coastal breezes, the Oluwani province of Olojari was several miles inland, with hot, dry air that tasted of soot.

“Getting dissolved, transported seventy miles, and slapped back together isn’t a skill you can practice,” I pointed out.

“Well, you’d be the expert,” Dayo said cheerily. “After twenty-six lodestones in a row. Maybe you’ll get immune.”

“I nearly died,” I reminded him. “I think I did die, for a minute. That part’s still a bit hazy. What I do remember involved a lot of puke.”