It’s delicious. I swirl my glass around a moment before softly asking, “What was it like? To be poisoned, I mean?”

Valentino sips his milk then says, “It was the most awful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“We were really worried about you,” Iván says.

“At first it was just like being drunk—all happy and dizzy and painless. Then it got harder to breathe, and my heart started beating faster than bees’ wings. And that’s all I remember until I woke up with the worst headache of my life and a belly that wouldn’t keep down food or drink no matter what it was offered. The physician inserted a small tube directly into a vein and gave me water that way.”

Iván’s eyes widen. “I’ve never heard of that!”

“Doctor Enzo, the royal physician, published about it in the Journal of Medical Anomalies. Our own physician said the technique saved my life.”

“Enzo is brilliant,” I say distantly, because I’m thinking about Captain Bolivar, and how even Doctor Enzo couldn’t save him. Maybe he won’t be able to save Fernando either.

“Valentino,” Iván says, sitting forward on the divan. “We have to ask . . . how did you come to be poisoned? What poison was it? Who gave it to you?”

Valentino sets his glass on a side table and folds his hands together in his lap. “I thought you might ask.”

When he doesn’t offer more, I add, “We fear others in the Guard may be in danger. Anything you can tell us—”

He says, “It was an accident.”

“Oh?” says Iván.

“It was sweet dream, that syrupy stuff coming from down south. Like duerma leaf except stronger.”

Iván and I exchange a quick glance. This is exactly what we suspected.

“I thought it would help with the pain in my kidney.”

I wince.

“Anyway, I won’t tell you who I got it from.”

“Why not?” I say, even as Iván says, “Please, Valentino.”

Valentino shakes his head. “The person who gave it to me has apologized profusely for giving me the wrong dose and is making amends. I have accepted their apology. Therefore, I consider the matter closed.”

We can’t tell him about Captain Bolivar or Fernando—we can’t tell anyone without possibly warning Rosario’s enemies. But we have to make him see the danger. I say, “What if—”

Valentino shakes his head. “It was an accident. It won’t happen again. The Guard is safe.”

“Assuming the person who gave you the sweet dream is telling the truth,” Iván says.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Iván. And that’s all it was. A mistake. This person promised to do better, and I believe them.”

“I don’t know that I could be so gracious in your shoes,” Iván says.

I couldn’t either. Valentino is better than I am. Too good to be the son of Conde Astón, at least. I mutter, “I can’t believe you share blood with the high conde.”

“What?” Valentino says, eyes widening. Iván shoots me a warning glare.

I blurt, “It’s just that your father seems to hate the empress and all she stands for. He levels insults at every opportunity, and he never forgives a slight. He’s not like you at all. You’re so . . . honorable.”