“Force you?” I echoed, horrified. “Why would I do that? The whole point of accepting the Ray is doing it willingly.”

“Shame,” he said, cocking his head. “I hate it when power goes to waste.”

His twinkling eyes grated on my nerves. “Why do you always speak in riddles?” I demanded. “Why not just say what you mean? I’m getting sick of it. If you plan to let me anoint you, we’ll be in each other’s heads soon enough. So you might as well be honest now.”

I regretted the words immediately. Suppose my anger repelled him? I still needed him on my council.

But to my surprise, at my outburst, his features shone with pleasure. He leaned over the short hedge, closing the distance between us. I tensed but did not move away.

Why in Am’s name did he have to smell so good?

“Giving orders suits you, Lady Empress,” he said. “You should do it more often.”

“Another riddle,” I droned.

“No. A compliment.” He paused, considering me again. “You’ve asked me to speak plainly, and so I will. You have wasted your time at An-Ileyoba.”

I recoiled. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been empress for two months. Three, if we’re counting since Olugbade’s death. And you’ve yet to truly accomplish anything. You have more potential than all the monarchs put together. So why do you squander it?”

“Squander?” I sputtered. “Between drowning in court sessions and trying not to get assassinated, I’ve spent every waking minute trying to form my council. You know, so the continent doesn’t get destroyed in a supernatural war? Is your head filled with mancala beans?”

He laughed appreciatively, then grew solemn. “Let’s say you succeed in forming your council. When you travel to the Underworld—less than two years from now—you will almost certainly die. When that happens, your sole legacy will be that you temporarily united a dozen rulers. Are you content with that?”

Ice chilled my veins. He had said nothing I didn’t know already. I knew how dangerous my Underworld mission was. But Zuri was the first to say it with such brutal plainness:

You will almost certainly die.

I had promised Dayo I would find a way to survive. Woo In had managed it, after all, and so had Ye Eun. But thousands upon thousands of Redemptors hadn’t. And as stubbornly as I clung to hope, by any measure of probability . . . Zuri was right.

Still, I lifted my chin. “You’ve forgotten the terms of my treaty with the abiku,” I told him. “My journey to the Underworld will end all Redemptor sacrifices, whether I survive or not. Millions of children growing to adulthood, instead of being slaughtered for peace—that will be my legacy. So yes, I’m content with that.”

His eyes shaded with an emotion I couldn’t name—something between frustration and admiration. Still he said nothing, only bending in an ironic bow of defeat.

His accusation still bothered me. “I’ve done more than form a council, you know,” I added in an aloof tone. “I’ve been planning changes for the empire. A redistribution of resources—the largest in Arit history.”