A pause stretches into awkward silence. Rosario is stiff in the space beside me, and I force my gaze to remain steady, not to look desperately around for help. The next person to vouch was supposed to be Captain Bolivar of the Royal Guard. That is the tradition: a member of the court, a member of the commons, a member of the military. But now that I think of it, I don’t remember seeing Captain Bolivar at all during our procession.

Elisa and Hector exchange a worried glance.

Suddenly, a voice booms in my ear. “By my word and honor, I vouch for the candidate!” It’s Rosario, coming to my rescue. I give him a quick look of gratitude.

Conde Astón hesitates a moment. “Prince Rosario is not yet an adult, and as a member of the royal family he should not—”

Elisa stands.

“All hear, all hear,” the seneschal booms. “Her Imperial Majesty addresses this royal chamber.”

The Conde presses his mouth closed, and for the first time I see a crack in his composure as he shifts his feet uncomfortably.

Elisa says, “If anyone would deny Crown Prince Rosario as a member of this court, or reject his right to speak in this chamber, let them do so now, before all assembled.”

Silence stretches over the audience hall like the string drawn on an assassin’s bow.

Elisa likes to boast that even her enemies love Rosario. He’s the son of their former king, after all. For many, he’s the exemplar of everything they want in a ruler—someone born to their nation, from the highest possible rank of their nobility, a hero in the old war against the Inviernos, a man.

No one speaks. The bowstring of silence relaxes without firing a single shot.

“Let the ceremony continue,” Elisa says, and she takes her seat.

“Let the ceremony continue!” the seneschal says.

Conde Astón can’t keep the disappointment from his voice. “Very well. The candidate has been vouched for thrice by members of this distinguished assemblage. We shall now move to ratify. All in favor of the adoption of Lady Red Sparkle Stone to the imperial line, with all the rights, privileges, and duties thereof, up to and including full inheritance according to legal succession, please raise your hand and say ‘Aye.’”

I don’t dare turn around to look, but a chorus of ayes hits my back. Maybe I imagine that the vote is not as full-bodied and enthusiastic as we’d hoped. Then I see Elisa’s narrowed eyes, and I’m forced to conclude that I am not imagining it.

Princess Mena presses against her father’s leg, her chubby fingers clutching as much fabric of his pants as she can manage. Her brow knits as she looks back and forth between me and the speaker of the chamber.

My upper lip has grown damp.

Finally the speaker allows himself the barest beginning of a smile. He says, “All against, raise your hand and say ‘Nay.’”

The nays hit me loud and fierce, like a thunderclap.