Alive? Tell us!
Aheh, alive and well!

I’m sick of Risings, I Ray-spoke to Dayo as we were primped and serenaded. Colorful geles bobbed around the room as courtiers bickered over the right to tie a sash or polish a slipper. I’m sick of everything. I’m still no closer to anointing my own council, and—I bit my lip. I never should have let those rulers into my head.

Tar . . . are you all right? Dayo’s large dark eyes locked on my face, narrowing with concern. How could you think that? You’ve already accomplished more than anyone could have dreamed. Chief Uriyah has grown to like you, and that’s saying something. Back in Blessid Valley, I hear he’s called Uri the Droner. Not even his own grandchildren make him smile as often as you.

“But it’s not enough!” I said aloud, ignoring the confused glances of courtiers. My head was pounding—the light streaming through my bedroom windows sent daggers of pain behind my eyes. “Those rulers have to love me, or this is all pointless. I’m running out of things to show them, Dayo. I’ve inhaled so much kuso-kuso that my urine is turning green, and I’m fed up, and it doesn’t help that I can’t get a moment of peace and quiet in this place—”

The entire bedchamber fell silent, and only then did I realize I was yelling. The flock of courtiers, attendants, and children froze in place, exchanging looks.

I winced. “Apologies.” I flashed a terse smile. “Too much pepper stew at breakfast.”

Nervous laughter rippled through the room. Slowly, the courtiers resumed their chants and bickering. But Dayo chewed his lip with concern.

You aren’t well, he Ray-spoke. Tar . . . what’s going on? Is it the ojiji again? We should take you to a priest. A shaman healer.

A sea of small, dirt-smeared faces swam in the air above him.

Don’t tell him. He doesn’t understand. And he’s busy; you’re enough of a burden already. Don’t tell him. Don’ttellDon’ttellDon’ttell . . .

I swallowed hard. If I told Dayo how often I now saw the ojiji, he would beg me to rest. To stop my sessions with the vassal rulers, my preparations for the Pinnacle. And if I slowed down, I wouldn’t anoint a council in time for the abiku. More children would die.

To rest was to fail.

“I’m fine.” I flashed a smile at Dayo, then turned to accept my slippers from a courtier, thus ending the tiresome Rising ceremony. But when I saw who attended me, I recoiled in surprise.

Lady Adebimpe of House Oyega knelt before my dais, holding out my slippers, eyes fixed mutely on the floor. Her once lustrous dark skin had paled, as though she hadn’t oiled it in days. The fat had vanished from her face and arms, leaving her sickly, and most alarmingly . . . her head was bare.

“Thank Am you are alive and well, Imperial Majesty,” she mumbled, without a trace of her trademark irony.