“Maybe he’s away on a special mission for the empress,” Pedrón says.

“It’s been almost two months,” Tall Arturo points out.

The truth is like a silent scream in my head. He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead. It goes against everything in me to allow the deception to continue. Maybe these boys, who’ve sworn to protect the empress even if it costs them their lives, deserve to know the truth. It’s not like Prince Rosario specifically ordered us to keep his death a secret. . . .

“There’s more,” says Short Arturo. “By this time last year, the second years were practicing real swordwork, not just forms. They were learning blocks and parries and even a few attacks.”

“Maybe we’re just terrible compared to them,” Itzal says.

“No, you’re just terrible compared to them,” Pedrón says.

Itzal sighs. “I don’t deny it. I’m going to get cut for sure.”

“We’re not terrible compared to them,” Short Arturo says. “Everyone says we’re the most promising class in a decade. Iván and Red have had extensive training. Pedrón and the former army recruits are here specifically because they were too good for the army.”

“Damn right we were,” Pedrón says, and his friends echo him with, “Damn right!”

“Aldo is surprising everyone,” Short Arturo continues. “We Basajuan boys grew up on the Invierne border, so we’ve been adept with slingshots and bows and traps since we could walk.” He pauses to let it all sink in. “There is absolutely no reason for Master Santiago to delay our training.”

“I’m the one holding everyone back,” Itzal says, hanging his head.

“No!” I say. “If that were true, they’d just cut you. You’ve survived this long for a reason. We all have. Pedrón, what does your brother say?”

“I haven’t talked to him. The third and fourth years don’t stay in the barracks. They’re out on maneuvers.” Pedrón is dragging his fingers through the sand, unable to sit still. “I know I’m not as smart as the rest of you,” he says. “But it sure sounds like the swordmaster is delaying our training on purpose.”

The Arturos are nodding. Tall Arturo says, “The second years think it’s very strange that Sergeant DeLuca brought in an outsider for training. And then to see him teach us nothing but forms, forms, forms, for weeks on end . . . I mean, I’m glad we’re strengthening our arms and wrists and shoulders or whatever, but this is getting ridiculous.”

I can’t resist piping in with, “Our forms are excellent now. Even Itzal’s. I don’t see how they can get any better.”

Aldo speaks up for the first time. “So what does all this mean?” he asks, and his voice carries a note of challenge.

“We’re not sure,” Tall Arturo says. “And we don’t want to alarm you . . .”

“. . . or overreact,” says Short Arturo. “But . . .”

“There’s no reason to keep Guard recruits ignorant and incompetent, unless . . .”

“. . . you want them to remain ignorant and incompetent.”