I dash into the tunnel before he can change his mind.

The sun is not yet touching the rooftops of the Sky Wing, which means the first-year recruits will probably be in the training arena for their afternoon fitness regimen. The barracks are eerily silent as I traverse the long corridor. I’ve been absent only one day, but my heart squeezes to see the familiar rock walls, to peek inside the bunk room and spy Traitors’ Corner at the far end, to pass the mess hall and smell a batch of fresh bread rising in preparation for dinner. When did I become so attached to this place?

I encounter no one—no Guards, no servants. Which is odd. I slow my pace, listening.

Laughter, in the distance. Outside, maybe. It pulls me forward, and finally I break into the sunshine of the sandy training arena.

All the first-year recruits are there, jogging in place with high knees to a count given by Guardsman Bruno. “High, two, three, four!” he urges. “I want to see those knees almost hit your chins!”

I step forward, and Bruno fumbles his count. He goes silent. One by one, the boys stop jogging in place. They turn to see what he’s staring at.

Iván’s face lights up.

“It’s Red!” someone says, and all of a sudden I’m surrounded by sweating bodies and grinning faces. “What are you doing here?” “Are you reinstated?” “We’re going to have a gala celebration of our own tonight.” “You should join us, Red.”

Then Guardsman Bruno is there too, and he reaches through the mob, grabs my shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to be here, girl,” he says.

I hold up Rosario’s letter. “I have authorization, sir. His Imperial Highness is officially drafting all first-year recruits into service for the evening. He has sent me to fetch them.”

The air goes taut with silence. Bruno takes the letter, breaks the seal, reads.

I hold my breath. If he’s not loyal to the prince, he might try to stop us.

“Well,” he says at last. “Everything looks in order.” He rolls the letter back up, hands it back to me. “Lady Red, the first-year recruit class is yours.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Guardsman Bruno wears a slight smile as he turns his back on us and exits the arena, leaving us all alone.

“Whoa,” says Pedrón. “What just happened?”

“I think we’re Royal Guards now,” says Rito. “Real Royal Guards.”

“At least temporarily,” I say. Two palace watch soldiers pass by along the arena wall. “Let’s get back to the bunk room. I’ll explain everything there, in private.”

“Wait!” says Aldo. “There’s something we need to do first.”

Everyone snaps to attention at his voice.

A brass half-moon is now pinned to the shoulder of his uniform. At my questioning look, he says, “Yesterday after you left, the recruits voted me squad leader.”

“Aldo, that’s wonderful!” I say. “Congratulations.”

He beams. “Thank you.”

“If the two of you hadn’t agreed to start the practice group, we wouldn’t have any useful training by now,” Pedrón says.