“Oh, no, not Bolivar,” Mara says. “He was such a good man.”

“We’ll find him,” Elisa says. “Maybe he yet lives, and has a good explanation.”

The room is crowded with bodies, and growing even hotter. The Quorum is here: the empress, Lord-Commander Dante, the General, and two of the empire’s highest-ranking condes, Tristán and Juan-Carlos. The five of them usually meet here alone, but with the addition of me, Rosario, Hector, Mara, and the princess, there’s barely room for everyone to sit.

And they’re all looking at me.

“I . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did wrong—”

“Nothing!” Rosario practically yells. “You did nothing wrong!”

“Red, don’t apologize,” Elisa says.

Conde Tristán puts a hand on my shoulder. “You did everything you were supposed to do. Like Hector said, we were betrayed.”

Suddenly all eyes move to Conde Juan-Carlos. It’s a reflexive thing. His predecessor was a traitor who nearly plunged our nation into a civil war.

Juan-Carlos’s eyes narrow. “I am not my father,” he says in a tight voice. He’s young for his station, only a few years older than I am, and his face seems perpetually on the verge of a frown.

No one responds. Hector and the General exchange a meaningful glance.

“I have voted with the Quorum every time since taking office,” Juan-Carlos continues, “in gratitude for my family retaining its rights and holdings. You can’t possibly still doubt my loyalty.”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably. I get the feeling they’ve had this conversation many times behind closed doors.

At last Elisa says, “I do not doubt your loyalty,” and I can’t be the only person who notices that she refrains from saying “We.”

“We’ll figure out what happened,” Lady Mara jumps in, before anyone can point out the obvious. “The spymaster is seeing to it personally. I expect we’ll hear a knock on the door any moment.”

“In the meantime, we need a plan,” says Conde Tristán. “I hate to say this aloud, but I worry for Red’s safety.”

The General has been quiet until now. He leans forward, elbows on the table, and says, “Our enemies would be well advised to carry out an assassination now, while we appear weak.”

The safe, cave-like feeling dribbles away.

“They have to consider that we will regroup and try again, maybe next year. They’ll want to put a stop to any future adoption while sentiment is low.” The General is an older man with gray hair and a deep squint pinching a narrow nose. He refused the spectacles Doctor Enzo offered, calling them “modernistic and untrustworthy,” though it would be a mistake to think him unprogressive. I clearly remember his acceptance speech eight years before, when he publicly declared that the young Empress Elisa had one of the finest military minds he’d ever encountered.

Elisa sighs. “Overturning a rejected petition would require a two-thirds majority vote. I don’t see us getting two-thirds, even in the best of circumstances.”

“For now, Red could accompany us on our state visit to Orovalle,” Hector says.