“The Lady wishes to know,” Woo In said, “why the prince has not yet been eliminated.”

“The Ray doesn’t work on me. I can’t hurt him without it—and I’m glad,” I added sharply.

Kathleen’s emerald eyes narrowed. “It’s no good resisting, you know. You are half-ehru. You will grant The Lady’s wish no matter how much you love the Kunleo brat, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

“Why do you hate Dayo so much?” I demanded. “Why can’t you just leave him alone? What’s he ever done to you?”

“It is not what he has done,” said Woo In, “but what he will do.” His usual sardonic tone had fallen away, leaving a raw hostility I had never heard before. “The Kunleo emperors have the power to change the Redemptor Treaty. They can make it fair, so Redemptors are born everywhere, instead of only in Songland.”

“That can’t be true,” I said. “Dayo’s never said anything like that.”

“Perhaps your prince is not as open as you think.”

I snorted. “Dayo couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. Besides, emperors aren’t gods. How could they decide where Redemptors are born?”

Woo In’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But The Lady does. And she has promised to save the children of Songland. But first, she must rid the world of Kunleos.” I took an involuntary step back when Woo In’s voice dropped to a snarl. “Her patience is wearing thin, and so is mine. Dayo’s death is the reason you were born.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I won’t hurt him. Not ever.”

Beside Woo In, a growl brewed in Hyung’s throat. “I thought you might say that,” Woo In murmured. “And so you left us with no choice. I have fulfilled your destiny for you, Lady’s Daughter.” He gave a tight smile. “Your prince and his mask should know better than to whisper at windows. You never know who might be listening.”

From behind me, the smell of burning timber assaulted my nostrils.

“No,” I breathed. “No!” I tore away from Kathleen and sprinted back down the corridor. Servants were running, shrieking, and barking unintelligible orders as they herded children down the hall. Above the din of screams and footfalls, I heard someone rasp, “Fire.”

Gluttony, contagion, burning.

“Where’s Dayo?” I demanded of passersby. “Where’s the prince?” My questions were met with wild stares and wagging heads. I shoved against the exodus, heading for the bedroom where I had last left Dayo. Billowing clouds of smoke obscured the hallway, and I choked but pressed on.

Then a burly arm wrapped around my waist, and a palace manservant hoisted me over his shoulder. “You’re going the wrong way, candidate.” I clawed against his solid grip, but until we burst through the double doors of the Children’s Palace antechamber, he did not put me down.

A wave of clean air washed over us. The outer hallway teemed with guards and mewling children. We stood by the grand spiral staircase I had climbed my first day at An-Ileyoba. The landing had a marble railing overlooking the vast hall below, where frazzled servants formed a chain to pass up buckets of water.

Immediately, healers took me aside to examine me beside other candidates, giving us carafes of water and checking our skin for heat blisters.

“I’m fine,” I said, batting them away and catching the sleeve of a testmaker. “Is Prince Ekundayo with the emperor?” I had spotted Sanjeet, as well as Dayo’s council: Kirah, Mayazatyl, and the rest. But Dayo was nowhere in sight.

“I don’t know, candidate,” the testmaker replied.

“The palace is burning, and you don’t know where the crown prince of Aritsar is?”

The testmaker fidgeted, fraying the embroidered red braid on his kaftan. “Lady Adesanya said he was accounted for. I went to double-check the Hall of Dreams, and his sleeping platform was empty, so—”

I froze, my stomach turning to lead.

Dayo had not been sleeping on his platform. And the woman with Lady Adesanya’s face had been Kathleen.

Suddenly, Dayo’s council siblings began to yell and shriek, shaking with tears. “He’s still in there,” Kirah gasped. “We can hear him through the Ray. He’s still inside.”

I shoved through the press of bodies. Something tugged on my candidate sash; Sanjeet had made a swipe for me. But I wrenched away, letting the rich cloth tear in two as I plunged back through the double doors of the Children’s Palace.

Black clouds filled the dome of the playroom, obscuring the air and stinging my eyes. I kept moving, staggering around corners as I coughed, lurching through crumbling doorframes. Dayo was immune to suffocating. That bought me time. But it also meant he would be able to breathe as the flames consumed him, denied even the mercy of unconsciousness.

My lungs screamed. I turned in a circle, hunting in vain for a pocket of fresh air. Charred toys and fallen beams smoldered around my feet, and my head swam with a falling sensation. The sound of crackling flames surged in my ears … and then I doubled over, stumbling to my knees. A note too high for hearing penetrated my mind, like a hot poker, or …

Or a ray of sunlight.

I had felt this before. The power was painful, but the feeling of vulnerability was even worse, my every thought laid bare. Yet something inside me reached for this invader, like a vine creeping toward the sky. I swallowed, and then stopped resisting.

The pain vanished as quickly as it came. Clear as a copper bell, a voice sounded in my mind: Help me.

“Dayo,” I croaked.

Tar. The answering voice sounded frantic. Did the Ray work? Can you hear me?

I’m coming, I thought fiercely. Where are you?

In the window, came the weak reply. I was sleeping … Then everything was hot … Smoke … Tried to get out … Man stood in front of the door; couldn’t see his face …

You have to jump, I told him. Remember your mask. Remember what the priests said. You won’t die, Dayo.

It … it’s so far. I can’t do it, Tar. I don’t believe the priests. I don’t believe my mask, I don’t believe in my Ray. I can’t do it.

“I’m coming,” I repeated aloud, using the voice in my head as a compass. Soot covered the looming murals of past council members, sullying their benevolent smiles. As Dayo’s voice grew stronger, so too did the roar of flames. I turned a corner and squinted. Before me rose a viciously bright wall of fire.

The bedroom doors.

They crackled and spat, heat searing me from several paces away. My heart beat wildly. Suddenly my heroism seemed ludicrous. I was only a girl. What in Am’s name was I doing?

A beam tumbled from the doorway, landing in a spray of sparks, and I yelped as embers assaulted my face. I turned, spun on my heel, and ran back down the corridor. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t save Dayo, and I didn’t need to; he had the Ray. He would jump.

Wouldn’t he?

My sandals slapped in retreat across the stone and charred carpet … and then a voice sounded in my head again. It wasn’t the invading spirit, not this time. It was a memory from the day Dayo and I had first met.

You’re going to be another one, aren’t you? A person I like.

My steps faltered, knees weakening as sweat and grit poured down my back. I stopped, exhaled sharply … and then my feet were racing back toward the flaming doors. My arms whistled as they pumped.

“I won’t burn, I won’t burn, I won’t burn,” I chanted. “I—won’t—burn.”

But I didn’t believe it. I had emerged from the firepit at Bhekina House unscathed, yes, but that didn’t mean I was special. Bhekina House had been enchanted for my protection, and the shield had probably dissipated the moment I had left. Yet still I was running, hurtling toward those flames.

Scorching, unbearable pain—and then I was through. My clothes were alight with fire. I cried out and dropped to the bedroom floor, rolling on the tiles. Once extinguished, I didn’t stop to check for burns, but crept along the ground where the smoke was thinnest.

“Tarisai?” The voice was hoarse. Dayo stood backlit by the moon in the window alcove. The curtain had been torn down, snickering beneath him in flames.

“I’m here.” I scrambled over and reached for him. He coughed, his eyes glassy and listless. “Come on,” I rasped. “You have to jump.”

“I can’t,” he mumbled. His face and neck were blistered from the heat. “I’m scared. And … you’ll be alone. I won’t leave you, Tar.”

For a long moment, I considered pushing him. But I couldn’t bring my arms to do it, even knowing he wouldn’t die. Even knowing it was for his own good … the action too closely resembled murder. What if pushing Dayo awoke that something inside me? The part of me I hated and feared?

So I helped him down instead. He swooned, legs buckling. “Sorry,” he breathed. “It’s just … the smoke—”

“I’ll carry you.”

“You can’t. The door’s burning.”