The prince consort’s hand comes up to cup my cheek. “You can do this, Red. You are brave like Rosario. Smart like Elisa. Loyal like me. You’re the best of all of us, my sky, and you can do this.”

“I can do this,” I whisper back.

It’s the deepest, coolest time of night. I’m lying on my vast canopied bed, the door to my balcony left open to invite the breeze. A slight glow filters through the sheer, fluttering curtains, for the night bloomers in the garden below have opened their petals wide, showing off their luminescing stamens to the night sky. The air smells of cinnamon, thanks to the mug of duerma leaf tea on my bedside table, which was supposed to help me sleep.

But I’m terrible at sleeping, and not even duerma leaf tea can help me tonight.

Beside the mug, the candle on my bedside table has become a puddle of wax, and only the tiniest flame remains. In a few hours, I’ll leave this luxurious bedroom suite for cold, austere barracks. Elisa and Hector and everyone I love will leave me behind.

It’s my choice, I tell myself. I want them to. I’m a different girl than I used to be. I can handle being alone, and I’ve slept in worse places than barracks.

The candle flame sputters out, drowning in its own mess. I grab a pillow, yank the bedspread off, and toss it all into the corner on the floor. I make a nest of everything, snug against the wall, and hunker down. Sleepily, bedspread pulled up to my shoulders, I trace the ceramic border that rims the floor of my chamber. In daylight, the tiles are soft yellow with painted blue flowers, but tonight, in the near dark, they are merely something slick and cool for me to focus on.

I’m finally, finally drifting to sleep when a knock sounds at my door.

Lord-Commander Dante stationed several Guards outside, so whoever has knocked is someone they’ve chosen to let pass. I’m unalarmed as I rise, pad barefoot across the room, and open the door.

It’s Rosario, his hair mussed, a sheepish grin on his face.

A flash of movement draws me partly into the corridor, and I glimpse a fast-walking figure in a dressing gown, just before she turns the corner and disappears.

“Was that Lady Carilla?” I ask, making no effort to hide my amusement. “Were the two of you . . . together?”

Rosario pushes inside. “No.”

“Well, maybe you should be. At the adoption ceremony, she couldn’t take her eyes off you. She’s nice. I like Carilla.”

Rosario closes the door and latches it. “It’s not like that between us.”

“Then what’s it like, little brother?”

The prince opens his mouth to retort, but changes his mind when he sees all my bedding tossed in the corner. “Sleeping on the floor again?”

I shrug. “Rosario, why are you here? The monastery rang the third hour.”

He plunks down on my bed. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured you might be up too.”