Condes Tristán and Juan-Carlos lead the effort to root out any remaining mercenaries. The General opens an investigation into his army’s recruitment practices to make sure no one like Beto or Sancho remains, who might have been compromised by Conde Astón and Condesa Ariña.

Conde Astón makes good on his word. After he releases the mercenaries from service, and returns to the palace, Rosario holds him in the tower, in a cell far, far away from either Aldo or Aldo’s mother. Rosario tells me that Astón answers questions openly and without reserve, even confesses to poisoning Captain Bolivar and searching his quarters. His execution will wait until the empress returns, so that she and Lord-Commander Dante can question him themselves.

Sergeant DeLuca is also held for questioning. He maintains his innocence, insists that he was acting in good faith, and that if he betrayed his empress at all, he did so because he was deceived by Conde Astón into believing a traitor had infiltrated the first-year recruits. The conde himself verifies the sergeant’s story, confirming that he manipulated DeLuca, playing on his deep desire to win the notice of the empress, along with his intolerance for all things Invierno. The sergeant had no idea who Aldo was, or about their greater plan. He assumed I was the traitor.

Soon after, Sergeant DeLuca is found hanging in his tower cell, his face swollen and blue, his Guard-issue belt cutting into the skin of his neck.

His loss makes me ill. I disliked him, almost as much as he disliked me, but he was still a Royal Guard, and he didn’t need to kill himself. He was a fool, not a traitor, and Elisa would have been merciful. I’m sure of it.

A few days later, I’m in the barracks, running errands for Guardsman Bruno, who is in charge of everyone who remains, when Rosario sends for me. I meet him in his receiving room. He sits behind his desk, regal in satin, a small golden diadem circling his head. As always, Lady Carilla stands at his shoulder. It’s the first I’ve seen her since the chaos ended.

“You’re a warrior,” I say to her, and it sounds more accusatory than I intend. “Trained for it, just like me. Except I think you’re better.”

Carilla smiles. It’s a smile that says, “Much better,” but without rubbing my nose in it. I appreciate her restraint. “You know I fostered in Amalur, yes?”

“Of course. With Queen Alodia.”

“That’s where I trained.”

I blink, understanding dawning. “You were trained to be a guardian, by the warrior priests at the Monastery-at-Amalur.”

“Yes.”

“Elisa had a guardian for many years,” Rosario says. “She thought I ought to have one too. Anyway, that’s not why I called you here. You’re a hero, Red. You saved me. You saved the empire.”

“It would have been really embarrassing if Elisa and Hector returned and we had misplaced it for them.”

Rosario’s look becomes pointed. Like that of a prince instead of a brother. “I do not consider this a humorous matter.”