“Even better,” I tell him. “No one will be able to say I made the cut only because it was an uncompetitive year.”
“Captain Bolivar will not go easy on you just because you’re a girl,” the lord-commander says.
“I would not expect him to.”
“If Captain Bolivar is still . . . here,” Rosario points out.
Everyone in the room pauses to consider. I wish I could hear what they’re thinking. Rosario fiddles with the fringe of his cushion. Mena squirms in Hector’s lap.
Lord Dante is the first to break the silence. “I still advise that we don’t jump into this plan too hastily. There may not be a law against it, per se, but—”
“Lord-Commander Dante,” the empress says in a voice I recognize. She’s about to pull rank. “Is it my Guard, or is it my Guard?”
The commander ducks his head. “Now and always, Your Majesty.”
“You are one of my most trusted friends,” the empress continues. “More like family. When Hector resigned his post, it gave us great confidence and pleasure to appoint you in his place. I know you will do the right thing and protect the crown’s interests in every possible capacity.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. May I speak freely, Majesty?”
“Always.”
“Lady Red is an exceptional candidate for the Royal Guard; I have no doubt about that. And being a woman does not disqualify her in any way. I only meant to say that some will not see things so clearly. If she takes to the sand, her first year will be challenging in ways I can only imagine.”
“I want to do it,” I say.
“I won’t be there to protect you,” he says, finally addressing me directly. “I’ll be in Orovalle with the empress for months. Maybe a year. Hector won’t be here. The empress won’t be here. We have no idea where Bolivar is. You’ll be on your own.”
“I’ll be here,” Rosario says.
“Every recruit leaves home,” I say. “Gives up everything.”
“Almost everything,” Hector clarifies.
“Right. Except three items. Anyway, everyone is alone when they come to the palace on recruitment day. That’s the point, right? We belong to the crown now. Our lives for Elisa’s. So I don’t need special treatment. I’ll succeed or fail on the same terms as everyone else.”
The river rock walls and the thick oak door are meant to deter eavesdropping, but they make a silence feel heavy, as though it’s pressing in.
Princess Mena whispers something in Hector’s ear.
“I think,” Hector whispers back, “that if Red can’t be your sister, she still wants an excuse to see you every day. Like Guardsman Fernando does.”
“Good idea,” Ximena says gravely.
Tristán says, “All right, I like this plan. I think it would discourage any assassination attempts. Red is simply not a target anymore, as a mere Guard recruit. Not to mention the fact that the Guard barracks are nearly impossible to penetrate.”
“Red will still be a target,” Mara says. “Just for different reasons. For being a woman with the audacity to try for the Guard, for instance. Trust me on that.” She and Elisa exchange a knowing glance.
“I’m happy to begin spreading the rumor that this is a punishment, as Red suggested,” Conde Juan-Carlos says. “I promise to be appropriately smug. It should be very convincing, coming from the bitter son of the disgraced traitor, yes?”
“I expect so, Juan-Carlos,” Elisa says. “Thank you. It’s safer for her if everyone believes her dishonored.” The empress shakes her head ruefully. “The first woman in the Royal Guard! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Of course women should be in my Guard. And if you’re sure you can do this, Red, I’ll sponsor your petition for recruitment myself. That guarantees a spot in the sand.”
“This is what you want?” Mara asks me.
“I’m sure I want to try.” And I am. I’ve never been more convinced of the rightness of anything, not since that day eight years ago when Elisa bought me and took me away.
The empress smiles. “Then we have a plan.”
“We have a plan,” Hector echoes.
“Red, be careful,” Mara warns. “We did have the votes for your adoption, less than a week ago. This was a major coup, to spread those rumors so quickly and convince everyone to change their votes. Whoever did it is still out there, Bolivar is still missing, and the empress’s entourage won’t be around to investigate.”
“I understand.”
We all mill about for a short while as I endure half-hearted congratulations, a kiss on the cheek from Mara, hugs from Tristán and Elisa. No one does a good job masking their disappointment at my failed adoption, or their desire to leave the hot Quorum chamber, but at the last second, Hector yanks me aside.
“Red,” he says. “You might be the most qualified candidate in the sand this year.”
He’s so solemn that I’m not sure it’s a compliment. “Er . . . thank you?”
“Some recruits, those from especially privileged families, delay revealing the full extent of their skills and training.”
I chew on this a moment. “To keep from showing off, you mean. To keep from making early enemies.”
He nods. “Others go in hard and fast to establish a pecking order as quickly as possible. I’ve seen both strategies succeed and fail.”
“So your advice is . . . ?”
“No advice. Just information. I trust you to make the right decision for yourself.”
Something about that chokes me up a little, and I find myself swallowing hard.
“And one more thing. The Royal Guard may be the most elite fighting force in the empire, filled with the best men I’ve ever known. But it’s still a large group of men, with all the bad tendencies that large groups of men seem to develop. Especially the new, untried recruits. I made several reforms when I was in charge, work that Lord Dante has continued. But neither of us will be there to reinforce those changes.”
“You’re saying it will be a dangerous place for me because I’m a woman.”
“Yes. But I hope not too dangerous for you to handle, so long as you remain alert.”
“I’m always alert.”
His weathered face is handsome and hard, but once in a while a softness overtakes it. When he looks at his wife and daughter, for instance. And sometimes, when he looks at me.
The prince consort’s hand comes up to cup my cheek. “You can do this, Red. You are brave like Rosario. Smart like Elisa. Loyal like me. You’re the best of all of us, my sky, and you can do this.”
“I can do this,” I whisper back.
It’s the deepest, coolest time of night. I’m lying on my vast canopied bed, the door to my balcony left open to invite the breeze. A slight glow filters through the sheer, fluttering curtains, for the night bloomers in the garden below have opened their petals wide, showing off their luminescing stamens to the night sky. The air smells of cinnamon, thanks to the mug of duerma leaf tea on my bedside table, which was supposed to help me sleep.
But I’m terrible at sleeping, and not even duerma leaf tea can help me tonight.