“Oh.” Aldo’s gaze drops back to the cards arrayed on his bed, as though he’s trying not to appear hurt.

Iván says, “I have an errand to run, but I’ll be back soon. The Ciénega del Sur boys are gone now, but I’d rather take precautions. So, with your permission, Red, I’d like to keep watch while you sleep.”

I blink up at him. It’s on my lips to tell him I don’t need watching over, but what comes out of my mouth is: “Actually, that’s a good idea. Thank you.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And with that, he leaves the bunk room to deliver our note.

“You and Iván seem to be getting friendly,” Aldo says cautiously.

I shrug. “Just like you and me, I guess. You know how it is. We denizens of Traitors’ Corner have to stick together.”

“Sure.”

Careful of my wounded rib, I lie on my cot and stretch out. A wave of cramping hits my gut, so sudden and fierce that I gasp.

“Red?” Aldo’s head peers down at me over the edge of his bunk. “You all right?”

I’m curled up in a fetal position now, my hand to my pelvis. My lower back feels as though it’s being squeezed in a carpenter’s vise.

“Oh,” Aldo says. “Your monthly courses.”

“Yes,” I breathe through the pain. “How did you know?”

“Mamá has a difficult time of it. Sometimes her pains are so bad she can’t leave the bed for two days. I used to help her a lot.”

“My pains aren’t that bad. I should be fine after a nap.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Let me sleep.”

His face falls. “Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, wait. Aldo?”

“Yes, Red?” he says eagerly.

“I need rags. I thought about taking some from the laundry, but—” Another wave of cramps takes my breath away.

Aldo jumps from the bed. “I’ll handle it. Just sleep.”

“Really? I mean . . . thank you.”

I reach into the drawer for my Godstone, then I tuck my back against the wall and pull my ink-stained blanket over my shoulders, making my own tiny cave. Distantly, metal clashes on metal—the second years must be practicing in the arena—and I find the sound oddly soothing.

I never nap; I can barely sleep at night, much less during the day. My cramps are ferocious. I was attacked last night in this very bed. But the soldier sickness knows no reason, and somehow, I feel my muscles relaxing. My bones are heavy; my heart beats with perfect, normal steadiness.

I cradle the Godstone to my chest, close my eyes, and sink into my mattress.

The brass bell clangs, and I spring from the bed before I’m even half awake. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up to my surroundings: The scent of slightly burned porridge indicates that dinner is ready in the mess. Several recruits returned while I slept, and they hurry to re-don their boots. Aldo is back on the top bunk. Iván is here too, as he promised.