He ground the sole of his sandal. “You don’t know that.”

“She practically told me. And even if she hadn’t . . .” I raised an eyebrow. “Dayo, Ai Ling hides her emotions better than anyone. She has to; that’s a High Ambassador’s job. But at the Peace Banquet, she refused to hide anything. She wanted to be there, in your arms. Wanted the whole world to know how vulnerable you make her. It was beautiful, Dayo.”

He brightened, then his dark brow creased, plunging into lines and shadow. I shivered at how much it aged him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

I scoffed. “Why in Am’s name not?”

“You know why.”

“I know you haven’t asked her.”

“I can’t,” Dayo blurted, with a sharpness that surprised me. “She already swore her life away. All of you did. You gave up your home realms. Gave me your minds, forever. How could I ask Ai Ling to give up even more? Especially—you know. The one thing everyone in the world wants?”

“Not everyone,” I countered. “Not you, and others like you. The world is big, Dayo.”

“Mine isn’t,” he said quietly. “The moment I was born a Raybearer, my world shrank to twelve people. And that was fine. I never thought I’d want more with any of you. Until . . .”

He trailed off, and I paused, considering. “If you don’t ask,” I said slowly, “you’re making the choice for her.”

“But what if she says no?” Dayo fidgeted. “Or worse—what if she says yes, and then hates me for it?”

“It’s like you said,” I murmured, reaching to tidy his messy tufts of hair. “We can’t control why people love us, Dayo—or how much.” I leaned over to kiss his cheek. “We only get to choose what we give in return.”

His features remained stony, but before he could reply, a courier appeared at the door, panting, with a message.

“Apologies, your Imperial Majesties,” he wheezed. “But the queen of Songland and her consort—well.” He came to hand me a note. Min Ja’s measured handwriting, ink barely dry, gleamed from the page. “They’re leaving.”

Wearing nothing but a purple cape over my night shift, I tumbled from a palanquin into the sleepy streets of Ileyoba: the residential district of the nobles and home to the temporary Songlander royal villa. Already the building seemed almost vacated. Servants poured out of the villa with the queen’s possessions, loading carts with jeweled chests and silk-swathed baskets.

“In the name of the empress—let me see the queen,” I hollered, barreling through lines of servants and flashing my imperial seal. “Please. Just for a minute.”

When I burst into their private salon, Min Ja and Da Seo shot surprised, then guilt-stricken looks my way. Sheets covered the furniture. Both the queen and her consort were bundled in dark cloaks, dressed for a lengthy journey.

“We hoped to leave while you slept,” Min Ja said, with her usual bluntness. She gave an apologetic smile. “I do not excel at goodbyes.”