I exit the storeroom, all the first-year recruits on my heels. We jog down the corridor on light feet, in the opposite direction from the mercenaries.

At the entrance to the catacombs, we stop short. A Guard lies on the floor, arm extended at an odd angle, blood pooling beneath his head on the stone floor. The mercenaries took the time to scout the whole corridor before taking up position at the intersection.

“Holy God,” whispers Rito. “This is serious.”

If the killing has already begun, Rosario is in grave danger. “Hurry!” I urge. “We’ll come back for him later.” I step over the body and start toward the stairs.

“Wait,” Iván says in a sharp whisper. “Somebody grab his sword. And any other weapon he has.”

Iván would have been a great squad leader. No wonder DeLuca didn’t let him win.

Pedrón is nearest to the body. He drops to the floor and searches it. “The sword’s gone. And all his pockets are turned inside out.”

“Then the looting’s already started,” I say. “Let’s go!” I take the stairs into the catacombs at an unwise pace.

The boys gasp when we reach the Hall of Skulls. They gape in wonder when I finger the latch that pivots the stone casket aside, revealing the dark well that will lead us to the underground village.

Iván goes first, and I usher everyone down into the spiral staircase, intending to take up the rear. Rito is the last one. He stares down into the darkness, eyes wide, limbs frozen.

“Arturito?”

“We’re going to get killed tonight, aren’t we?”

“I’m hoping we’ll at least reach the prince first.”

His eyes dart around as if looking for escape, and I realize this is one of those times when a less candid person would tell him something comforting and false.

“Will it hurt?” he whispers.

I find something true to say. “If we survive this, and we keep our prince safe, no one will dare cut us from the Guard. We’ll be heroes.”

He perks up a little. “You think so?”

“Heroes know how to weather a storm, right? What do we have when the winds are harsh and the seas are rough?”

He nods. “Still hearts.”

“Now go.”

We catch up to the rest. The tide is in, and we soak our boots wading through ankle-high salt water. Our footsteps squish as we climb the narrow stairs. Pedrón and Iván must duck their heads to avoid the low ceiling.

The boys want nothing more than to stand and gawk when they see the underground village. Light streams down from fissures above, and the whole place sparkles. The rushing river hugging the cavern’s far edge creates a light breeze.

A fire pit still smolders, and a few villagers are smoking fish on a rack beside it. But the village is mostly empty. The entire remaining Guard was called up for the gala. I wonder if any of them are still alive.

“How have I never heard of this place?” Pedrón whispers.