We reach the dais. The vihuelas cease, and a hush descends. I hear the tiny pop of a candle bubbling in the chandelier above my head.

Father Nicandro, head priest of the Monastery-at-Brisadulce, hobbles forward. He holds a copy of the Scriptura Sancta in one arthritic hand, a sparkling tiara in the other. He closes his eyes and intones a blessing in the Lengua Classica, and I should focus on his words, soak up this moment, but all I can think is that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Nicandro closes his blessing, and the room mutters “Selah” in unison. He steps aside and is quickly replaced by Conde Astón of Ciénega del Sur, a man of middle height, broad shoulders, and almost inconceivable wealth. More important, he is the elected speaker of the Chamber of Condes, one of the three governing bodies of our empire. Which makes him the most powerful person in this great hall aside from Elisa herself.

In a loud, clear voice, he says, “Her Imperial Majesty Empress Elisa and His Imperial Highness Prince Consort Hector have petitioned the chamber to adopt the candidate before you, and assume all rights and duties with respect to the child.”

I’m hardly a “child.” It must be formal wording, set forth in the Articles of the Empire, when Elisa agreed to relinquish some of the powers held by the crown in exchange for unanimous ratification of her new peace treaty. I remember Ratification Day well. I ate my first coconut scone.

“The candidate,” Conde Astón continues, “named Lady Red Sparkle Stone, was purchased by our empress as a slave from an innkeeper in the free villages and immediately emancipated. According to testimony, the child then played an integral role in securing our victory in the Battle of Basajuan. She has remained a member of court in the years since, bringing no shame or dishonor to herself nor to her warden, the empress. Her natural parentage is unknown, though she is presumed through physical examination by the Imperial Physician Enzo to be half Invierno, and therefore infertile. Her age is estimated at seventeen years.”

He pauses, letting everything sink in. None of this is new information to the court, and I’m not sure why it was necessary to state it aloud. Maybe he’s trying to humiliate me. It won’t work. I’m not ashamed of my past or of what I am. It’s nothing I can help; why be ashamed?

“Is there anyone,” the conde says, “who will vouch for the moral character of the imperial adoption candidate?”

Three people will vouch, all carefully arranged in advance. Still, I hold my breath and wait.

Conde Tristán steps forward on the dais until he stands parallel to Elisa’s throne. He’s a member of the Quorum of Five, and the most delicately beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He’s also one of Elisa’s dearest friends.

“By my word and honor, I vouch for the candidate!” Tristán says.

“By my word and honor, I vouch for the candidate!” comes a voice from the crowd. The mayor of Brisadulce, no doubt. I don’t know him well, but he owes Elisa a favor.