My ancestors. My Kunleo sisters, reviled and erased.

Exiled, for daring to shine like the sun.

“I bear the Ray,” I said quietly. “Whether I live in a palace or a tent in the Bush. That’s what makes me dangerous, Jeet. And until this world changes . . . I will always be a target. Whether you like it or not.”

Then I walked to a kneeling desk in the corner, rummaged for paper and ink, and knelt to write.

“Tar,” Dayo ventured, after a few cautious moments. “What are you doing?”

I finished writing, plunged my seal ring into wax, and stamped the paper. “Being empress,” I snapped, then rose and headed for the exit. As I retreated, I heard them scramble to the desk, sensing their alarm through the Ray as they read my handwritten script:

BY EDICT OF TARISAI KUNLEO,
HIGH LADY JUDGE,
AND OBABIRIN REDEMPTOR OF ARITSAR:

All natural resources—quarries, hunting grounds, fisheries, and lumber mills
that have been heretofore claimed by House Kunleo, throughout the twelve
realms of Aritsar
shall be relinquished to the commoners of their native province
and released from the care of gentry.
Effective immediately.

“This is suicide,” bellowed Sanjeet, coming to stand in my path. “Tar, you can’t do this.”

“I just did,” I retorted, staring up at him coolly.

Ai Ling cleared her throat, awkwardly raising her finger. “Actually, Tari dear . . . you can’t. Not right away, at least. It’s imperial protocol. Any edict that primarily affects the gentry must be announced at a gathering where nobles can air their concerns. A Pinnacle—the highest of high courts.”

The wind deflated from my sails. How could I have forgotten? Pinnacles were one of the oldest law rites in Arit history. I could try to pass the edict anyway, of course . . . but without respecting imperial protocol, I had precious little chance of the nobles obeying, even with the Imperial Guard at my back.

“Fine,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. Arranging a Pinnacle would take months—every noble clan in Aritsar would have to be invited, then given time to travel. “But it’s still going to happen. Bunmi?”

The captain stood at wary attention. I snatched the edict from the desk and handed it to her.

“See that the criers deliver copies to every noble family in court and throughout the empire. Tell them a Pinnacle is imminent.”

“Those resources are Dayo’s property too,” Sanjeet snapped, after Bunmi bowed and left the chamber. “Did you think of that?”

I paused guiltily, biting my lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask,” I told Dayo. “But this is what Malaki wanted. You were there. You saw my memories; you saw the broken stories of that mine. Well . . . this is how we fix it. I’m sure, Dayo.”

Dayo fidgeted, glancing between me and Sanjeet. “I’m sorry, Jeet,” he mumbled at last, rubbing the back of his neck. “But Tar’s right. I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’ve got to appease the alagbatos somehow. And the faster Tar passes this, the sooner our council siblings can come home.”