But if the things this book claimed were true, and there was a way she could bring someone back from the dead . . .

“Karina, I’m back,” called Aminata, and Karina hastily shoved the tome into her pack. This was pure foolishness. She knew it, deep down in her heart of hearts.

But as Aminata’s team dressed her for the moment everyone in Ziran had been waiting for, Karina’s thoughts never left the book.

Necromancy wasn’t real. Bringing the Kestrel back to life wasn’t possible.

But then again, just yesterday she had thought the only thing stopping her from leaving Ziran was her guilt over letting her mother down. If magic strong enough to protect their city for a thousand years existed, who was to say magic that could resurrect the dead did not?

These were the thoughts that raced through Karina’s mind as her carriage wound its way through Ziran, from the gilded streets of Imane’s Keep to the austere sidewalks of the University District, and even through a small portion of River Market. Karina kept to the plan Farid had provided her, sticking a henna-covered hand out of her plush carriage so that the people would be reassured that an Alahari was actually present. The royal family traditionally rode on horseback in the procession, but no one, least of all Karina herself, was ready for her to take such a risk the day after the assassination.

People of all ages screamed in delight as she passed, and Karina did her best to share in the excitement, even calling out, “Solstasia afeshiya!” every now and then. But her thoughts kept returning to the disappointment she’d seen in Farid’s eyes after she had broken down in the tent.

What would her mother and sister say if they could see how badly she failed in all the ways they had excelled?

Even worse, what would they say if they knew how good she had felt during her meltdown, how natural it had been to break the world apart with her bare hands?

A sharp rap on the carriage door interrupted her thoughts. “We’re here, Your Highness.”

Karina drew a deep breath. Now it was time for the unveiling of the Champions. For the first time since she’d joined the parade, she pulled herself from her dark thoughts and watched the celebration.

Though a square in name, Jehiza Square was really an intersection where the three largest boulevards in Ziran met, creating an open area roughly the shape of a three-pointed star. Every inch of it was filled with people—old people, young people, families and travelers, performers and scholars and more. Everyone wore the color of their Alignment, resulting in a rainbow wave of humanity that shifted around the massive pile of objects waiting to be lit aflame.

Karina craned her neck to take in the beacon that would activate the magic needed to renew the Barrier. It looked like a pile of discarded junk to her, but she had to trust that the ancestors had known what they were doing.

Due to her vantage point above the main platform, Karina couldn’t see what was happening on the lower one near the audience, though she could hear it. She peeked out of the carriage again to see the backs of the seven High Priestesses as they led the people in a prayer. Instead of joining in, Karina opened The Tome of the Dearly Departed once more.

To complete the Rite of Resurrection, four things you will need: First, the petals of the blood moon flower, freshly crushed. Second, the heart of a king, freshly warm. Third, the body of the lost. And fourth, complete control of your nkra.

Karina had never wanted to be sultana. Wasn’t it in everyone’s best interest, then, to bring back the person who did?

However, the Ancient Laws were quite clear—the dead are the dead are the dead. To bring someone back to life violated every law of nature, and probably a few laws of magic too, if magic had laws at all. Plus, Karina had no idea what nkra was, where to find a blood moon flower, or how she could obtain the heart of a king. Ziran hadn’t had a king since Baba had died, and she was unlikely to find one wandering the street.

Another knock. “Ten more minutes.”

This was absurd. She wasn’t going to murder someone just because a book she’d won from a stranger claimed to hold the secret to resurrection.

Karina put down the tome, pulled her oud case close to her chest, and rested her cheek against the worn leather. If only Baba were here. There was nothing she wouldn’t have given for one more minute with him, for him to tell her everything was going to be all right even when she knew it wouldn’t be.

“And now, with the Great Mother’s blessing, it is time to unveil our Champions!” boomed the priestesses. “Fighting in the name of Gyata, She Born of the Sun, we have Driss Rhozali!”

The crowd’s response to Driss was eardrum-shattering. Sun Temple had actually brought an entire team of lions with them, and they roared around Driss and Sun Priestess as she described the competent warrior Driss was known to be. Karina couldn’t see Driss’s face from where she sat, but she knew he was scowling through it all.

“Fighting in the name of Patuo, He Born of the Moon, we have Bintou Conteh!”

A willowy girl with long black locs took the stage next, an owl perched on her shoulder. Apparently, Bintou was one of the brightest students to ever come out of the Zirani university. She probably wouldn’t last if it came to a physical confrontation with Driss, but in a battle of minds, the girl had a solid chance of winning.

“Fighting in the name of Santrofie, He Born of the Wind, we have Khalil al-Tayeb!”

Karina should have felt some kinship toward the Wind Champion given their shared Alignment, but all she could muster was burning indifference. Given that Khalil was currently blowing kisses to the crowd as the nightjars that symbolized Santrofie fluttered around him, she doubted he cared much about her lack of enthusiasm.

“Fighting in the name of Kotoko, She Born of Earth, we have Jamal Traore!”

Jamal was the only Champion larger than Driss, and twice as old as well. He gave a polite nod to the crowd and quickly stepped back into the line. The porcupine standing beside him yawned.

“Fighting in the name of Susono, She Born of Water, we have Adetunde Diakité!”

Tunde’s family was one of the biggest donors to Water Temple, so it had been an open secret for months that Water Priestess would name him as Champion. Karina had known this and intentionally steeled herself for this reunion, and yet that didn’t stop the jolt that ran through her traitorous heart as her former not-quite-lover loped across the stage.

Tunde bowed before the crowd, and just the distant sight of him brought forth a flurry of memories Karina didn’t wish to recall—lazy afternoons curled together in the gardens, Tunde’s gap-toothed smile beaming down at her. But that time was long past, and she couldn’t let a few rose-tinted memories convince her she hadn’t made the right choice by ending her relationship with him.

“Fighting in the name of ?seb?, He Born of Fire, we have Dedele Botye!”

The next person to stalk the stage was a broad-shouldered girl with her cornrowed hair in a bun and pure muscle cording her arms. All Karina knew of the Botye family was that they were prominent in the trading industry, with multiple sand barges traversing the desert each year.

Only one more Champion remained until it was time for Karina to play her part.

“And last, fighting in the name of Adanko, She Born of Life, we have Adil Asfour!”

The boy Adanko had personally chosen wasn’t much to look at—not particularly tall, nor commanding in any way. He barely stepped forward from the line before stepping back; though she couldn’t make out his face, Karina could see him shake. She shook her head. The other Champions were going to eat him alive.

Another cheer filled the air, and her guard flashed the signal.

It was time.

Her head held high, Karina exited the carriage. She could practically feel the collective breath taken by every person in Jehiza Square as they waited for the Kestrel to appear as well. However, no second silver-haired figure exited the litter, and murmurs went up through the crowd as they wondered aloud where the sultana was and why Karina was wearing her color.

Unperturbed, Karina made her way to the center of the stage, the council lining up to her right and the High Priestesses to her left. The Champions were lined up on the platform beneath her, and she still couldn’t get a good look at their faces.

Karina faced the crowd, and all thought died in her mind as she stared at tens of thousands of faces whose safety depended entirely on her. What was she supposed to say here? What came next?

A memory of Baba’s voice cut through the panic: These people have come to see a show. Give them something worth watching.

He had said that to her the day of her first recital, and it was as true now as it had been back then. Karina put up a single hand, and the murmurs quieted. She touched three fingers to her lips, then her heart, opening up her left palm to reveal her emblem. The crowd followed suit.

“Solstasia afeshiya!” she cried.