Ten minutes later, Karina sat in a dimly lit sitting room, a towel wrapped around her shoulders and an untouched pitcher of water and a plate of fruit beside her. After the eerie glow of the necropolis, Ksar Alahari seemed muted, like a piece of clothing washed one too many times. Adil was nowhere to be found, but he was fine; Karina refused to entertain the thought otherwise. They’d gotten separated, and he was now wet and tired somewhere else in the canal.

A door creaking open broke Karina from her thoughts, and she yelled as Farid threw his arms around her. She almost commented on the unusually grand display of affection, but Farid’s body shook so much against hers that Karina swallowed the quip and hugged him back.

“I appreciate the warm welcome, but I’ve only been gone for a few hours.”

Karina’s smile faded as Farid pulled away, his brows drawn tight together. “Karina, no one has seen you since the fire on Earth Day. The council canceled the Final Challenge, and they were going to announce your death publicly in the morning.”

“They canceled the—what day is it?”

“A few hours past midnight on Fire Day.”

Karina’s heart dropped down to her toes. Fire Day was the sixth day of the week. Her journey with Adil through the necropolis had taken more than a day?

“Are the raids still happening? Do we have any leads on the traitor? Have you heard from Afua?”

“Yes, they are; no, we don’t; and no, I haven’t.”

Karina gripped the table for balance as she tried to process Farid’s words. She’d lost an entire day, and now only two remained for her to complete the Rite of Resurrection. The council was poised to take even more power than before, and there was still no sign of Afua.

“Bring me Commander Hamidou at once,” Karina ordered. If the council was willing to announce her death, then there was no point trying reason with them anymore. It was time to use brute force to get them out of her way, even if it meant the confrontation might get violent.

However, instead of following her command, Farid ran a hand through his hair. “Commander Hamidou is gone. When you disappeared, the council blamed her poor leadership for all that has gone wrong this Solstasia and removed her from her position. I don’t know where they took her.”

No. Karina sank to the floor. Farid lowered himself beside her.

“Karina.”

“This is all my fault.” Karina’s voice broke. “I need to stop them, but I don’t know how. They’ve taken over the city, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Karina.”

She was a little girl again, everyone she loved torn away from her in the course of a single day. “They’re gone, Farid. Everyone’s gone!”

“I’m really sorry about this.” Before Karina could ask what he meant, he grabbed the pitcher of water and upended it over her head.

Karina yelped and sputtered, having just gotten dry. “What’s the matter with you?” she screamed.

“What’s the matter with you?” Farid yelled back. “Look at yourself!”

Karina looked down. She was a disheveled, waterlogged mess.

“Your mother is gone, and the council is in control. We can’t change that. But the Karina I know, the one who has never let other people push her around, wouldn’t sit and cry while people take something that is rightfully hers.”

Karina sniffed. Farid had a point; breaking down wasn’t going to get her anywhere. If the council had taken the city, then she had no choice but to take it back.

But how?

Karina’s gaze fell on the serpopard fang, which she’d only taken to show Farid because he had always been so interested in the ancient world. It was still wrapped tight in the layers of fabric, but a small hole had spread through the tip of the bundle and was growing wider by the second.

Karina’s eyes widened as well. Pushing aside her exhaustion, she rose to wobbly feet. “Summon the council at once.”

“I think you should rest first,” protested Farid.

“No, this ends tonight. Call in every debt we have if need be. Just get them here.”

“But—”

“Farid.” Karina looked up at the steward with what she hoped was a calm and purposeful gaze. “You have been a brother to me my entire life and a teacher for nearly as long. Have you spent that time shaping me into the kind of queen others would want to follow?”

“I have tried.”

Trusting her instincts had gotten her through the wakama match, and it had saved her and Adil from the serpopard.

It was time to use those same instincts to deal with the council.

“Then follow me.”

Judging by the fearful stares Karina received as the council members filed into the Marble Room, more than a few of them had genuinely thought her dead. Fresh from the bath and wearing an elegant crimson kaftan much too elaborate for the dark hours of the morning, Karina swept around the table, filling glasses with fragrant mint tea. Farid stood dutifully behind her chair, arms clasped behind his back.

When everyone was seated, Karina gestured to the spread of bread and pastries she’d had the servants prepare last-minute.

“Please get comfortable and help yourselves. We have much to discuss.”

No one reached for the food. Shrugging, Karina dipped a piece of bread into a bowl of olive oil, taking note of who had drunk the tea already and who hadn’t.

Mwani Zohra finally broke the silence. “I know I speak for myself and everyone present when I say I am overjoyed to see you alive and well.”

“We are curious as to where you’ve been,” huffed Mwale Omar, halfway through his glass. “It looks bad on us all to have canceled the Final Challenge.”

“I promise I will explain where I was soon. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you from your beds. To be frank, I am appalled by the council’s recent behavior. Since Solstasia began, I have witnessed numerous injustices committed against our people and our guests, all in the name of my family.”

“While I agree the raids have caused more disruption than planned, they are a necessary part of our investigation,” said Grand Vizier Jeneba. “Every day that we put off solving the murder only adds further insult to Haissa Sarahel’s memory—may the Great Mother grant her peace.”

“The biggest insult to my mother’s memory is letting her city descend into chaos.”

Karina turned to the vizier beside her and asked, “Mwale Ahar, how many years have you been a vizier?”

“More than fifty, Your Highness.”

“And in that time, how many sultanas have you served?”

“Two—your mother and her aunt before her. Hopefully three,” he added quickly.

“Answer me this,” said Karina. “With fifty years of loyal service to your name, why have you chosen now to go against my family?”

Mwale Ahar had the decency to look embarrassed as he coughed out, “It is as the grand vizier said. Everything we’ve done has been within our rights given the unusual circumstances surrounding this Solstasia.”

“Of course. And you, Mwani Rabia?”

Mwani Rabia Assaraf was perhaps the second-oldest person on the council, and she squirmed in her seat as Karina continued, “The Assarafs have stood by the sultana’s side since the start of Ziran. Has the love between our families soured?”

“My love for your family remains as strong as ever.” The vizier’s voice wavered with the effects of age. “But to be honest, I worry about Ziran’s future with you leading it.”

Karina had expected this answer, yet the words still hit her like a douse of ice water. “Please explain.”

It was Grand Vizier Jeneba who responded, “Everyone here has known you since birth, and in that time, we have seen firsthand where your strengths lie—and your faults as well.”

Other advisers around the table nodded. Grand Vizier Jeneba continued, “I’ve been impressed by the way you have conducted yourself since Haissa Sarahel’s passing—may the Great Mother grant her peace. However, that alone does not negate the years of questionable behavior you’ve displayed. We worry about your ability to govern Ziran effectively and do not feel it would be in the best interest of the city for you to assume the role of sultana yet.”

“I admit that you have many reasons to feel the way you do.” The words burned, but Karina knew she had to concede some things if they were going to get anywhere. “I have not been as responsible as I could have been these last few years, especially when you consider my sister’s involvement in court when she was my age.”

Perhaps there would come a time when she could speak of Hanane without her heart breaking. Today was not that day.

“I promise that starting now, I will do everything in my power to protect this city and its people. But I need your word that you will not continue the raids or any other injustices in my name.”

“I cannot promise that,” said Grand Vizier Jeneba. “I will do what I feel must be done to protect our home, as I have always done.” Murmurs of agreement went up through the council, and Karina sighed. She rested her chin on her hands.

“Let’s say the Arkwasi-hene hears of our arrests of his people and rightfully retaliates. How does war with Arkwasi help us?”

“The Arkwasians must pay for what they did to our sultana.”

“More like you start a war to fill your own pouches, knowing you will never have to lift a sword in it. Am I wrong?” The last empty teacup clattered against the table, and any pretense of civility dropped from Karina’s face. “I will be honest with you: I know someone in this room hired the assassin.”