Some people gasp. Others hold their tongues.

“A gift from his father, upon news of his birth,” Ariña says. “We kept my darling boy hidden, until such time as we married and I became Alejandro’s queen. But the usurper changed everything. She stole the throne for herself. Threw me out of the capital. Forced us all to accept treaties with our greatest enemies.”

Rosario finds his voice. “You were exiled because you conspired to betray my father. You were stripped of title, your sister Cosmé made heir to your lands and titles. You got exactly what you deserved.”

Condesa Ariña smiles. “I’m sure that’s what you’ve been told. But as you say, my sister retained my lands and titles. She is now queen of Basajuan. That means my son, Alejandro, is not only your half-brother, he is nephew to Queen Cosmé. His claim to the imperial throne is even greater than yours.”

Even though such a claim is ridiculous, everyone in the ballroom is rapt. This was the plan all along. Discredit Elisa and Rosario. Infiltrate the Royal Guard. Lock down the palace with mercenaries. Present Aldo as a heroic, patriotic alternative.

I have no idea what to do. I’ve been training to guard someone’s life, not shore up their political support.

“Empress Elisa invited that animagus here,” Conde Astón says. “You heard him. They were longtime friends. And now innocent people lie charred on the floor of this very ballroom.”

“You lie!” Rosario protests.

“Even I have never seen him before,” Ambassador Songbird says.

“We are so lucky Prince Alejandro was here to save us,” Conde Astón continues, unabashed. “The Inviernos bring nothing but duplicity and death. How many of you lost fathers, brothers, sons to the Inviernos in the war? There can be no treaty with duplicity. There can be no peace with treason.”

“Enough of this!” Rosario shouts. “Red, seize the pretender.”

I react instantly, leaping toward Aldo, my sword raised high.

Aldo is already spinning on me, drawing his own sword. Steel clangs against steel as he parries neatly.

He thrusts for my belly, but I twist my abdomen, and his blade sails past. With a flick of my wrist, I knock the blade aside and move inside his guard, priming my fist to bludgeon his face.

“Stop, or Rosario dies!” someone yells.

I freeze. Someone has Rosario pinned, a knife to his throat. Efren and Iago, the prince’s borrowed guards, are dead at his feet.

Aldo’s grin of triumph falters as he lifts his blade, presses the tip to my heart. “Surrender, Red,” he says. “You are my friend. Truly. And I want you as part of my own Royal Guard. As I told all of you, when I locked you up for your own safety, you can still be in the Guard.”

I gape at him. Does he really believe there can be friendship between us, after what he’s done?

From the corner of my eye, I see Valentino edging closer. Aldo notices, but does nothing. After all, Valentino is weak. The son of his greatest ally.