Dayo joined me on the bed, slinging an arm around me. “Maybe it’s like Ai Ling said: Some people only love who they fear.” He frowned at the floor. “I didn’t agree with most of what my father told me when he was alive. But one thing he said made sense: You don’t get to choose why people love you. But what you do with the love you receive . . . that’s a choice you make every day.”

My head against his, we lay together as the moon sank in the arched windows. In the citrus-scented night breeze, my oil lamps sputtered, sending dancing shadows up the walls.

“I wish Adebimpe could be like me,” I said suddenly. “I wish I could share my Ray. Or at least a piece of it.”

Dayo’s brows shot into his hairline. “It’s a nice thought,” he said slowly. “But would that be wise? Adebimpe and her family tried to kill you.”

“My mother tried to kill you,” I pointed out, propping myself up on one arm. “So did your father. But the Ray chose them anyway. And the more I learn, the more I think the only decent way to use power is to share it with others. Maybe there shouldn’t be rulers—at least, not in the way we think. Maybe emperors—and kings, and queens, and Raybearers—should just be people who make sure power flows to everyone.”

“Sounds nice,” Dayo said, yawning. “But Ai Ling always says that for an empire to run, someone has to be in charge.”

I shot him a measured look. “You quote Ai Ling a lot these days.”

He blinked sleepily. “Do I?”

“No matter what we talk about,” I said, poking his ribs. “It’s always, ‘Ai Ling said this,’ and ‘Ai Ling thinks that . . . ’ ” I cocked my head. “Something you want to tell me, Dayo?”

He chewed on his lip. “Ai Ling gives good advice.”

“She’s pretty too,” I coaxed. “And smart. And more selfless than people give her credit for.”

“So what? You’re smart and pretty too.”

“I saw you at the Peace Banquet,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’ve never danced with me the way you did with Ai Ling.”

He grinned. “That’s because you don’t dance with anyone.”

“Don’t change the subject. For Am’s sake—” I shoved him, and he snickered. “Just admit you like her! It’s obvious, Dayo.”

He sighed then and sat up, gazing out the chamber window. “Of course I like Ai Ling,” he said. “I love her . . . just like I love you. And Kirah. And Umansa, and all our council. But . . .”

“But what you feel for her is special?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “It’ll pass,” he said at last, twisting the rings on his fingers. “Like all crushes do. I was in love with Sanjeet when I was little. And with you. But all those feelings changed when I got older. Wiser. And now—”

“Now you’re in love with someone else,” I said. “And she’s just as crazy about you.”