Raybearer: Chapters 5–9

I tried to drop my hands from Dayo’s face, but he held them there, eyes pouring wistfully into mine.

But I’m not supposed to show favoritism to any of Father’s council members. I call them all ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’—even my mother. It’s best for diplomacy.

All you have to do is solve puzzles, and learn weapons, and science, and god-studies, and statecraft, and when you finally love me…

“If that’s what you want,” said Dayo, sounding crestfallen. “I can’t force you to join.”

Sconces flickered patterns on the muraled walls.

You’ve been out for hours. The prince insisted on giving you his pallet.

“If I could,” he said dourly, “then I wouldn’t be here, sunshine girl. I'm not that strong.”

My pain at Dayo’s growing council festered like an ulcer.

The remaining Dhyrmish candidates vied for his spot, though they feared Sanjeet almost as much as the Swana candidates resented me.

He might have been imposing, if not for that gangly frame, and those relentlessly naive black eyes.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, brandishing my practice spear to try the defense again.

Gruesome images barraged us both.

I showed him my overbearing tutors, hovering as I solved puzzles.

His face remained on my mind as I solved the day’s allotted riddles and logic puzzles.

“The Eleven must wield their titles of power fairly and without bias. The Eleven must serve the emperor first, then the empire, and then their realms of origin. Outside the council, they must form no attachments. Inside the council, no attachment may outweigh their loyalty to the future emperor. Carnal relations are prohibited, except with the future emperor.”

“His Highness is not permitted to marry. Instead, His Highness must anoint and protect a trusted council, through which he shall serve the empire. His Highness must select his council sisters with special care”—the priest leered over the female candidates—“for they will birth all future Raybearers.”

“Silence?” Dayo said. “Order?” He sounded like a nervous farm boy, tossing seed to quell chickens. Surprisingly, the crowd quieted, though venomous looks still volleyed across the room.

The testmaker nodded, producing a thick tome from beneath her arm and opening it to the middle.

The room erupted again. Djbanti candidates crowed with triumph as Dhyrmish candidates seethed, some barking that the records were rigged, while others left the room in anger and shame.

The throne room roiled with discontent, but I smiled up at the platform, making sure Dayo saw my support for his ruling.

“I asked the priests about her. They say she was a fluke: Am only gave Aiyetoro the Ray because her father died without male heirs. An exception does not negate the rule.”

“Once Dayo completes his council and they send us to Yorua Keep, we’ll be locked in that castle a long time, you know. When you finally let Dayo anoint you, you’ll have to be less of a prude.”

Adoring crowds were for Ai Ling from Moreyao, and handsome swains for Theo from Sparti.

Finally, to hard-faced Emeronya from Biraslov, I gave flurries of sweet-tasting snow and a wizened woman who wrapped her in wool, humming a dissonant lullaby.

Finally, to hard-faced Emeronya from Biraslov, I gave flurries of sweet-tasting snow and a wizened woman who wrapped her in wool, humming a dissonant lullaby.

But his gaze was dilated, volatile with fear.

“Then I realized, that’s the kind of stunt that would make him proud of me. I hope you never win the pride of a monster, Tarisai. It’s worse than their contempt.”

A lilting Mewish accent laced every word.

Shimmering amethyst birthmarks covered the man’s golden, sinewy frame.

Her Hallow is discerning the truth, and so ignorance was your only shield.

Billowing clouds of smoke obscured the hallway, and I choked but pressed on.

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

Soot covered the looming murals of past council members, sullying their benevolent smiles.

Soot covered the looming murals of past council members, sullying their benevolent smiles.

Bhekina House had been enchanted for my protection, and the shield had probably dissipated the moment I had left.

He coughed, his eyes glassy and listless.

A low, throbbing voice chanted through the hubbub, and the voices gasped as the disfiguring burns across Dayo’s skin began to smooth and heal.

Slowly, my gaze found Sanjeet, who watched me anxiously among the whispering throng of candidates.

My feelings were certain, like the sun rising over the palace turrets, or the grasslands rolling beneath the Swanian sky.

My body ached for their warmth, with the same fervor that it longed for food and water.