Hector reaches down for his wife’s shoulder, squeezes.

Elisa says, “You’re saying you would like to become our daughter, even if it means relinquishing all claim to the rights and powers of the throne. Even if it means you will be struck from the line of succession, your title of princess an honorific only?”

I can hardly get the words out. “Yes, Your Majesty. More than anything.”

The audience murmurs again, but this time there is a more favorable tone to it. Murmurs definitely have tones. Or do I imagine the sense of approval emanating at my back?

In a stronger voice, I add, “And truth be told, being an inheriting princess wouldn’t work for me. You see, I want to remain in your Guard.”

Elisa launches to her feet. Her chin quivers. She gestures for Hector, Rosario, and Ximena to accompany her, and together they rush down the steps.

“My Red,” she says, opening her arms wide, and I go to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her arms wrap me tight. Then Hector’s and Rosario’s. Tinier arms clutch my waist.

“My sky,” Hector says. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Welcome to the family, little sister,” says Rosario.

“I knew you would be my sistew,” says Mena. “I knew it!”

“Look,” Elisa says, brushing aside the swaddling from the sleeping face of the infant in Hector’s arms. “It’s time to meet your baby brother.”

I sit on the arena wall, my legs dangling over the side. Iván sits beside me. Pedrón is a few paces away, collecting bets from the Arturos. Tall Arturo is our squad leader now. Iván and I split most of the vote, allowing Arturo to overtake us both. Which is perfectly fine with all of us; he’ll be a great leader.

Below us is an assembly of children, ranging from ages twelve to eighteen. This year, there are nearly forty, in various styles and quality of dress. They’ve taken to the sand in hopes of making it through recruitment training and becoming Royal Guards.

Two of them are girls.

I’m unsurprised when Prince Hector strides toward us; he often attends recruitment day. Everyone begins snapping to attention, accosting him with a chorus of “Good morning, Your Highness,” but he waves us at ease. “Placing bets, I take it?” he says to me.

“We would never,” I say, even though I’m the worst liar who ever lived.

He grins. Then he leans down and kisses the top of my head.

“Papá!” I whisper in protest. “Not in front of everyone.”

“They’re used to it,” he says. “You’ve already been my girl for eight years.” To everyone else he says, “Enjoy the show,” and he strides away to join another group of onlookers.

“That tall fellow looks promising,” Iván says, pointing to a boy whose incredible height makes him a head taller than the next tallest recruit. “Who’d you bet on?”

“Her.” I point. “Carilla. She’s going to surprise everyone.”

He snorts. “She’s already a favorite. Everyone knows she’s Rosario’s guardian.”