“But shouldn’t I try to find the princess tonight because it’s a non-challenge day?”

“A day after the incident on the Widow’s Fingers?” She shook her head. “I bet there are twenty Sentinels around her right now.” Malik lowered his head guiltily, and Leila narrowed her eyes. “What does that look mean?”

Malik quickly filled her in on his part in the attack, and she groaned. “Why do you never listen to me? If anything, that is more reason why you shouldn’t try to find the princess tonight. We shouldn’t risk dealing with that force that attacked you when we don’t know who or what was behind it. And I don’t think you should use your magic again either.”

“What, why?”

“We still don’t know enough about how it works or where it comes from. The best use of our time tonight is gathering as much information as we can. I’ll peruse my books. You glean what you can from the Champions about the workings of the court. That way we can cover as much ground as possible.”

Malik fiddled with the elastic Tunde had tied around his wrist. How nice it would be if once—just once—Leila could be wrong.

“I know that face. That’s the face you make when you’re frightened.” Leila shook her head in disbelief. “Are you that scared of going with Tunde and the others?”

“No,” Malik lied. The truth was, he didn’t want to spend any more time with the other Champions than he had to. They all deserved to be here; if they got to know him, they’d realize immediately that he did not.

Leila scoffed. “Does your fear matter more than our sister’s life?”

The pressure in Malik’s chest swelled, and he snapped the band on his wrist until it subsided. He wasn’t even sure why he was so upset. Everything Leila had said was right, and he should have been grateful that she had found this information on Idir, even if it didn’t lead anywhere.

Yet at that moment, all Malik could think about was how much he wished Leila had been there for him on the roof instead of Tunde.

But that wasn’t fair. His sister had left to help Nadia in whatever way she could. He should be doing the same.

“I’ll go with Tunde,” said Malik, fiddling with the band once more.

He had already wasted the majority of the second day. Hopefully, whatever information he could discover tonight would be worth the torture he was about to subject himself to.

14

Karina

Midnight finally arrived, the customary bells from the temples and uncustomary cheers from Jehiza Square along with it. The second day of Solstasia had officially ended, and not a moment too soon as far as Karina was concerned.

Despite her restlessness, she fixed her face into a convincing imitation of sleep when her guard came to check on her. She could feel the man’s eyes scrutinizing her for any sign of something amiss, but he eventually left, her room’s lock sliding into place behind him as soft as a sigh. Karina counted to five hundred as his footsteps faded away, then darted from the bed with featherlight steps.

After her conversation with Commander Hamidou, Karina had taken the rest of the day to read through every book she owned for information about nkra, to no avail. The council was probably beside itself with fury that she had missed hosting the Champions once again. However, a not-small part of her was glad she avoided the encounter, because if what The Tome of the Dearly Departed had claimed was true, one of the Champions would have to die to bring the Kestrel back to life.

If. That was the word her entire scheme hinged on.

Her plan was a simple one. Afua, the Arkwasian ambassador’s daughter, was the only person Karina had ever heard use the word nkra, so the young girl was her best lead for figuring out if the Rite of Resurrection was possible. Worst-case scenario, Afua knew nothing or the ritual wasn’t real. If this happened, all Karina would have lost was a night she could have spent enjoying Solstasia—and potentially her freedom, having agreed to marry a stranger for no benefit.

But if Afua could help her perform the ritual, Karina would have her mother back for good. The Kestrel would handle the traitor on the council, and Ziran would be free from the inevitable disaster of Karina’s reign. The mere thought of that weight lifting from her shoulders won out over the doubts in her mind.

Taking a deep breath, Karina checked herself in the mirror one last time. Dressed in one of Aminata’s spare servant robes with her silver hair covered and excess jewelry removed, she was indistinguishable from the thousands of other girls who milled about the streets of Ziran. This was a different outfit from the one she’d worn to the Dancing Seal, as Farid had confiscated that one two days ago, but all she’d had to do was borrow another from Aminata’s room—surely the maid wouldn’t mind—and she was ready to go.

Only one element was missing from the ensemble: Aminata.

Karina had never snuck out of Ksar Alahari without her maid by her side. It felt like walking into battle devoid of armor, and Karina had not been prepared for the way her stomach twisted with nerves at the prospect.

She retrieved her oud and hugged it close to her chest, inhaling the instrument’s familiar wood scent. Normally, she’d be into her third hour of practice by now, her fingers bearing the calluses to prove it. She strapped the oud to her back, paused, then pulled the Kestrel’s ring off her finger and placed it with great care on the dresser near her bed. She’d only been wearing the ring for two days, yet her hand already felt empty without it.

She shouldn’t get more attached to it than she already was. The Kestrel would certainly want it back, and Karina didn’t deserve to wear it. Not yet.

With everything in place, Karina positioned herself above the entrance hidden beneath her bed. All she had to do was lower herself through and—

“Karina? Where are you going?”

Startled, Karina hit her head on her bed frame. Blinking back tears, she looked up at Aminata poised in the doorway between their shared rooms. A line furrowed the maid’s brow, and several lies gathered on Karina’s tongue until her eyes fell on Aminata’s outfit.

“Why aren’t you wearing your nightclothes?” she countered.

Aminata looked down at her clothes, which were nearly identical to the dress Karina had borrowed. “We need jasmine oil for your bath tomorrow morning, so I wanted to fetch some before I forgot.”

“And you needed to be fully dressed to pick up jasmine oil from the pantry?” Karina gave a sarcastic nod. “Are you going to tell me where you’re really going, because holding this grate open is cramping my hand. Meeting a lover, perhaps? Going gambling?”

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“Everything involving you is my concern.”

A muscle in Aminata’s jaw twitched. “This may be hard to believe, but I have a life beyond being your servant.”

Up until thirty seconds ago, Karina would have said she knew everything there was to know about her maid. However, this rat-piss awful week seemed determined to prove just how little she truly knew about anything.

Someone we know has betrayed us.

Karina drew a sharp breath. No. There was simply no way that Aminata had played any part in the Kestrel’s death.

But why after all these years had her friend chosen now to keep secrets from her?

Aminata sighed. “Karina, that’s not what I—”

“That’s ‘Your Highness’ to you.”

“What?”

The pressure building within Karina boiled over, rushing in a harsh stream at the only target present. “Clearly I have been too lax about maintaining the boundaries between us. From now on, you will address me only as ‘Your Highness,’ or I will find someone to fill your position who does. Have I made myself clear?”

“But—”

“Have I made myself clear?”

A pained look on her face, Aminata stepped back and folded her hands demurely before her. “You have . . . Your Highness.”

Karina nodded, blinking back the ill feeling that she had shattered something that could not be put back together.

“Excellent. Now return to your bedroom and remain there until it is time for your morning duties. Do not speak a word of this to anyone.”

Aminata’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t go into the Lower City alone! At least take a Sentinel with you or—”

“That was an order.”

Aminata looked ready to protest further, and on any other night, Karina might have welcomed her friend’s well-meant worrying. But at the cold glare in Karina’s eyes, Aminata lowered her gaze.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Karina didn’t even wait until the dim light between their rooms had gone out before she descended into the waiting darkness.