One thing is certain, Efren and Iago and I cannot protect the prince all by ourselves. He needs a small army if he’s going to get through the gala alive.

Sunrise brings warmth and light into Rosario’s suite. I stand and stretch, glad the long night is over, and look down at my sleeping prince. He always sleeps spread-eagle, taking up his entire giant bed with his gangly limbs. His mouth is open, and a puddle of drool soaks his pillow.

I try to be silent as I fold up my quilt, but he stirs anyway and sits up in bed. “That’s the best I’ve slept in a long time,” he says, following it with a huge yawn.

“Rosario.”

He’s suddenly trying very hard not to laugh. “Now that your hair is shorter,” he says, “your sleephead is spectacular.”

I’d love nothing more than to pretend nothing is wrong and joke around the way we always do. Instead I place the folded quilt across the foot of his bed and say, “We need more protection for you.”

“Every fighting man in the Royal Guard will be at the gala. I’ll be fine.”

“The Royal Guard that Sergeant DeLuca is currently in charge of? That Royal Guard?”

He frowns.

“You know we can’t trust him.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Send me to retrieve the recruits. They’re not fully fledged Guards, but we’ve been training so hard. Surely they’re better than nothing.”

He considers this. “First-year recruits aren’t even issued swords.”

“No, but they have bodies. Bodies that can be barriers between you and an enemy.”

“I hate that idea.” He runs a hand through his mussed hair. “Using the recruits as human shields.”

“They took an oath to die for you.”

“For Elisa, you mean.”

“Elisa won’t be empress forever. When she steps down, they’ll be your Guard. Everyone who takes to the sand understands this.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long. In the meantime, be careful what you eat or drink.”

His smile is sad and resigned. “I already took the liberty of securing some trail food—jerky, a canteen of water, some dried coconut. It’s all I plan to eat today.”

“Gross,” I say.

He nods. “It’s going to be the worst Deliverance Day ever.”

Rosario spends the morning suffering a final fitting for his formal gala outfit, which I’m happy to see includes a layer of light armor beneath a silk jacket. Early in the afternoon, he settles into the receiving room of his suite, where he endures visits from the seneschal, the mayordomo, and an unending stream of lords and ladies who have come a very long way just to say hello. He is polite and gracious to everyone.

Efren and Iago search every single person who enters the receiving room for weapons, no matter their station. Even so, I glare at anyone who dares come too close to the prince, all the while keeping my hand ready on my scabbard.

Finally Rosario’s receiving schedule is complete for the day. He breathes deep, scrapes his chair back, and puts his feet up on the desk. “It’s getting harder and harder to smile at everyone.”