A knock sounds. Hector leaps to his feet. He and Tristán close ranks before the table to protect everyone else, their hands shifting to their scabbards. Lord-Commander Dante moves to answer. With a nod to Hector and Tristán, he rotates the bolt and swings it aside.
A man strides in, small in stature and nondescript. I don’t recognize him, but no one shows alarm as he makes his way over to Mara and bends to whisper something in her ear. She asks him a question—so quietly I can’t hear. He nods, whispers back at length, and then he leaves as silently as he came, without so much as a word or gesture to anyone else.
After the bolt is fastened once again, Conde Juan-Carlos says, “The spymaster’s messenger?”
Mara nods. “Our spy web was only able to make quick surface inquiries,” she explains. “But from what we know so far, a rumor has been spreading the past week about our girl.” Mara gives me a smile that is equal measures fondness and sadness.
“Well?” Elisa prompts.
“Apparently Red was overheard saying that religion is a comforting myth. Something about a soothing balm to the hurting masses.”
Oh, god.
“And that God belongs in children’s stories, not policy.”
All eyes are on me again. The skin of my face suddenly burns hot. Were I fully Invierno, my cheeks would be flaming red.
“That does sound like you,” Hector says to me.
“I . . .” No use denying it. “I did say that. To one of my tutors.” The words almost catch in my throat. I messed everything up. All that hard work, and it was tossed away with a few careless words. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing!” Elisa snaps. Then, to Mara, “That can’t be all of it. Many people in this country are not that devout. Nothing about her being half Invierno?”
“Nothing so far. That anyone will admit to, anyway,” Mara says. “But yes, there is another factor. As you suspected, your pregnancy is no longer a secret. So the pressure to produce an heir through adoption was greatly diminished, your past difficulties notwithstanding.”
“So, news of the pregnancy, coupled with rumors of Red’s atheism, made her a disqualified candidate,” says Conde Juan-Carlos. Do I imagine that his voice holds a hint of satisfaction?
“We can try again next year,” Tristán says. “Shore up support. We’ll think of a way to get that two-thirds majority.”
“The girl will have to prove herself,” the General says. “Prove her patriotism.”
“She has proven herself enough,” Elisa says. “She has been proving herself, over and over since the day we found her in that village.”
“Not to the people in that audience chamber, apparently,” the General says.
Hector is shaking his head. “A two-thirds majority is impossible. Too many want to return to the past, even if it’s a past in ruins.”
“We’ll figure it out later,” Tristán says.
“Yes,” Hector says. “For now, we need to keep her safe.”
“She’ll be safest with you, on the road to Orovalle,” Lord-Commander Dante says. “A few Guards will stay behind to protect Prince Rosario and oversee the annual recruitment, but most of my best men will be traveling in state.”
“It’s settled, then,” Conde Tristán says. “Red will pack up and leave with—”
I clear my throat. “Maybe . . . that is . . . do I get a say in any of this?”
Elisa appears horrified. “Oh, my sky, we were talking right over your head, weren’t we? I used to hate it when everyone did that to me.”
“Your thoughts on this are most welcome,” Hector assures me.
I’m not sure what my thoughts are, except that I hate failing. I hate that everyone is disappointed. And running away doesn’t feel right. As a little girl, I ran a lot. Too much. In my nightmares, I’m still running, still scared.
Elisa is searching my face. Mara gives me an encouraging nod. It’s so hot is this room I can hardly breathe. I don’t know how Elisa can stand it.
“Red?” Rosario prompts.
Finally I say, “I’m done running. It’s time to stand my ground.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re right. If I keep running, I’ll keep being scared. I have to face the next thing, whatever it is.
“Standing one’s ground is often the last gasp of a dying defense,” the General says.
“Or the first move of a budding offense,” I retort.
Elisa smiles.
“What did you have in mind?” Hector says.
“I’m not sure . . . maybe . . .” I glance around the room. Everyone meets my gaze except Lord-Commander Dante, whose sole focus is the door and protecting everyone inside.
That’s it. That’s what I want.
I say, “Send me to the Guard.”
“What?” says Lord Dante, forgetting about the door for a moment.
But Elisa seems thoughtful.
“All royal princes spend a year with the Guard recruits, right?” I say, warming to the idea. “Rosario did. So why should it be any different for me or Princess Ximena? Hector, you’ve taught me how to defend myself. I know it was just to . . . help me with . . . to stay calm and . . . channel certain tendencies. But I learned. And I’ve trained with Spymaster Belén, sparred with Rosario. I could probably hold my own.”
Hector also appears thoughtful. “Oh, you could hold your own,” he says.
“Hector,” Elisa says, though she’s looking at me. “Has there ever been a woman in the Royal Guard?”
“No!” Lord Dante says.
“Yes,” Hector says. “Once. A few years before I joined. She dressed as a boy. Posed as her brother, who had obtained an actual sponsorship. When she was discovered a few weeks later, she was immediately sent home.”
“For being a girl,” Elisa says.
“For lying,” Hector clarifies. “For showing up on recruitment day under false pretenses, with a false identity. It was considered treason. King Nicolao chose not to execute her, I’m glad to say. He just sent her home in disgrace.”
“So there’s no law forbidding a woman to try for the Guard?”
“None at all.”
“Your Imperial Majesty,” the lord-commander says, “tradition is a powerful thing, and I don’t—”
“The safest place for me,” I interrupt, “aside from being with the main contingent in Orovalle, would be here, with the remaining Guard.”
“Red could do it,” Rosario says. “You’ve all seen how seriously she’s taken her training these last few years. All of her training.”
“We could spread the rumor that it’s a punishment,” I say. “For failing so utterly. That as a consequence for betraying the crown with my monstrous beliefs, I must redeem myself and devote my life to defending it.” The words sound bitter, even to me. My beliefs should not be considered monstrous. It’s not like they hurt anybody.
“This year’s class is going to be particularly talented,” Conde Juan-Carlos says. “My younger brother will stand for recruitment. Some promising young men are transferring from the army recruits. And I hear that Queen Cosmé of Basajuan is sending a few lads with potential, as a show of fealty to the empire.”