It doesn’t matter. All they are is an obstacle.

“Just wait,” Beto says, twisting my arm up behind my back and turning me toward the stage. “You’re going to love this.”

Sancho grins wolfishly and presses his knife harder into my side.

I scan the crowd, looking for my fellow recruits—Iván or Pedrón, anyone who can help—but the crush of people is too thick.

The air turns taut and prickly, as though a massive thunderstorm is gathering. My limbs start to tingle; a knot forms in my gut. It’s the Invierno sorcerer. He’s here, and he’s reaching for his well of magic.

Rosario raises his hand to signal the musicians to begin playing. His hand freezes midair.

The crowd collectively gasps, then goes eerily still.

The tip of Sancho’s knife is cutting my skin. Blood seeps down my side, thick and warm against my skin. But I can’t flinch away from it. I can’t move at all.

We stand in silence—no rustling of fabric, no murmured conversation, no creak of armor. I try to twitch my finger, but I can’t. Like everyone else, I’m frozen in place, an invisible barrier clenching tight around my body.

A white-haired Invierno steps forward from his hiding place behind the Hand. An animagus. He’s a head taller than almost everyone else in the room, with limbs so thin and cheeks so gaunt he is like a skeleton with skin. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot, shadowed by dark circles. He is not well.

The sorcerer mounts the dais. The Godstone at the tip of his staff glows with blue fire. When he speaks, his voice sounds magnified, either by the shape of the room or by some sorcery I am unfamiliar with. “Lucero-Elisa, Queen of Joya d’Arena, Empress of the United Joyan Empire, Bearer of the Godstone, the Sorcerer-Queen . . . the Queen of Joya . . .”

He stumbles over his words, pauses, and then smiles.

“Empress Elisa sends her blessings.”

I want to shout, to call him a liar, but I can do nothing except move my eyes. On scattered faces all around me, I see the stricken look of people who have had their worst fears realized.

“On behalf of the empress Elisa and the ambassador of Invierne, I welcome you. Today we celebrate a new Deliverance. Beginning today, your young empire and the ancient empire of Invierne will be forever joined as one.”

Rosario’s eyes widen in protest, but he can do nothing. He can’t even speak.

“Let all those who would oppose this union consider the wisdom of their choices.”

A stream of fire bursts from the sorcerer’s staff, exploding against a serving table. Dishes clatter to the floor. Flames lick the banners hanging from the wall.

Either the sorcerer is not powerful enough, or he is well and truly ill, for he is unable to hold everyone frozen while performing fire magic. A murmur of fear and despair passes through the crowd. My limbs release; the dagger at my side shifts slightly in surprise, and I don’t even think, I just react. My heel crashes down on Beto’s instep. Bones crunch. He screams.