To Rosario he says, “I light a candle every night and pray for your safety. Be well, dear boy.”

The barracks are silent with sleep when Iván and I finally make it back. Or so it seems. I store my book in the bedside table and shuck my boots. When next I look up, I’m surrounded by recruits. Aldo’s head hangs over the top bunk. Itzal plunks down beside me. Pedrón and the Arturos stare at me with expectation.

“So,” Itzal says. “What was it like? Did you see the prince?”

“I bet there were beautiful girls in beautiful gowns,” Pedrón says dreamily.

Iván says, “You know we can’t tell you anything.”

“Not even a hint?” Aldo says. “Where did you go? Was it a grand ballroom?”

“I can tell you one thing,” I say.

Everyone leans forward into my space.

“It was boring,” I say, and they wilt with disappointment. “You just stand there, not able to say anything or eat anything. But you can’t let your mind wander to pass the time, because you’re watching everyone and everything for any possible threat.”

“Red’s right,” Iván says. “It was boring.”

“You’re lying,” Itzal says, peering into my face, though I’m not sure what he thinks he’ll see in this gloom.

Pedrón says, “Moneybags here just wants to hear about all the fine things. He says the ambassador has a flower vase that’s worth three times my father’s annual wage.”

I lie down and push Itzal off the bed with my foot. “You’ll find out yourself. It will be your turn soon enough. Now let me sleep.”

The next morning at breakfast, someone I don’t recognize mans the cauldron, and we line up so he can ladle porridge into our bowls. He is short and slight with sharp features, barely older than the recruits. When I reach the head of the line, he says, so softly that only I can hear, “My name is Luz-Daniel. Please come to me if you need anything.”

I refuse to make eye contact as I whisper my thanks. This is Rosario’s spy, who can get a message to the prince should the need arise.

The morning training session brings more practice with sword forms. And the morning after that. Our nightly class continues, and everyone’s technique improves greatly. Even boys like Itzal, who came to the Guard with no training and hardly knowing left from right, can now be counted on to keep a strong grip while flowing through the poses like water.

Autumn begins to cool the air, bringing the occasional light rain, and we all become restless and frustrated with our routine: sword forms all morning, followed by fitness training in the afternoon, and more sword forms before bed. The boys are eager to learn how to fight, and I don’t blame them one bit. We’re ready. I know we are.

I’m equally frustrated by the fact that we’ve been given no opportunity to earn free time. I’m desperate to talk to Valentino. I’m harried by thoughts of Captain Bolivar’s death, of Fernando fighting for his life. Every day that passes puts my prince in greater danger. One night, Iván suggests we sneak out, but once again, I refuse. We risked too much the first time we snuck down to the Wallows. We don’t dare do it again. Don’t get cut, Rosario said.