“Hear! Hear!” says Pedrón, raising a wooden sword in his left hand.

“Hear! Hear!” we echo.

And with that, our official sword training finally begins.

Two months later, Empress Elisa returns. We know it because the monastery bells sing a welcoming hymn, and we are relieved of training for an entire afternoon in celebration.

I’m desperate to see everyone—Elisa, Hector, Mena, Mara, the new baby—but no one sends for me or comes to see me. Maybe they don’t want to. Iván believes they must stay away to avoid the appearance of bias or favoritism while they sort out everything that happened. I hope he’s right.

Lord-Commander Dante returns, though, and he thanks us for our service, informs us that investigations are under way so that he and Elisa can come to a full understanding of what transpired and why.

We break into cheers when he promotes Guardsman Bruno to the rank of sergeant. And we break into even louder cheers when he announces that we have proven ourselves, and no more cuts will be forthcoming.

I look around at my fellow recruits, my heart full. Iván, Pedrón, the Arturos . . . I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to any of them. And now we’ll all be together for our second year.

The desert blooms with spring, scenting the air with creosote and lavender, sending orange bougainvillea and purple wisteria creeping up the castle walls.

A month after the empress’s return, we are ordered to report the following morning to the audience hall. All of us are named in the summons: me and the other first years, Tanix and the second years who helped us, Sergeant Bruno, Itzal and the stewards, stable hands, cooks and blacksmiths, Carilla, Valentino.

Bruno gives us extra time that evening to launder our clothes, telling us we must look our very best.

I finally dye the white streak in my hair, using dye that Rosario himself ordered specially for me. Iván helps, scrubbing it into my hair while I hold my head over the drain in the laundry room.

“It’s taking really well,” he assures me, which I appreciate, because I haven’t seen a mirror in months.

I don’t sleep a wink that night. Strangely, I miss Aldo. I miss whispering with him at night, even the way his occasional turning caused the bunk to creak, reminding me he was there. I miss seeing his face looking down at me in the morning.

Being a Royal Guard is dangerous work. I knew when I took to the sand that if I made it through recruitment, I would eventually lose friends to death. I didn’t anticipate that I’d lose one to betrayal, or that the loss would ache just as fiercely.

He’s not who I thought he was, I remind myself. He was never a true friend.

But even if I make peace with Aldo’s loss, I know it won’t help me sleep. Nothing will help me sleep. The soldier sickness will be with me always, no matter how much time passes, no matter how many victories are won.