“Did you choose three items to take with you to the Guard?” she asks with forced cheer.

“Yes. It was an easier choice than I thought.”

Recruits who aren’t princes give up everything else, Rosario reminded me this morning before leaving my chamber. Title, property, loyalty to anyone other than Elisa—for the privilege of joining. Which sounded funny at the time. I’m already loyal to Elisa. I hold no title or property aside from her indulgence anyway. I’m giving up nothing.

You’re giving up a luxurious life as the empress’s ward, Rosario said candidly, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about that yet.

“Good,” Elisa says. “That’s good.”

We stare at each other. I shift awkwardly on my feet. Neither of us has ever been disposed to offer up what we’re feeling.

“Do you . . . need anything? From me?” she asks.

“No. I’m fine. I just came to say goodbye.” We are of equal height, and I can’t escape her dark gaze. I should be taller, being half Invierno, but Doctor Enzo says a rough start in life made it hard for me to grow.

The empress gives me a look I can’t read and says softly, “You never ask for anything, do you, Red?”

“I . . . don’t want to be a bother.”

I’m almost certain her answering glare is mocking. “Ask me for something,” she orders. “Right now. Anything. It’s an imperial command.”

I glare right back. “I ask that you have a safe journey and take good care of yourself and that baby.”

Her lips twitch. “A nimble deflection,” she says. “But don’t think I’ll let this go. I’ll ask you again when I return, so consider hard.”

I’m not sure what to say to that.

“Your Majesty, we are loaded and ready,” calls one of her Guards.

“I have to go,” Elisa says. Her hand comes up to stroke my hair. “Be well, Red. I’m so proud you’re taking to the sand today.”

Moments later, she is bundled into her carriage, and Lord-Commander Dante gives the order. Wheels creak, camels grumble, and footsteps march forward in a steady one-two. I linger, watching as the procession files out of the carriage house and into the gloomy dawn.

I exit the dark arched corridor and enter the arena. The morning sun is still low, the arena cloaked in shadow, the air crisp with residual night. I’m the first to arrive, and I stand in the sand all alone, dwarfed by the stone walls around me.

This will be my last moment alone for a very long time.

I’m dressed like a desert nomad, in a loose linen shirt, a leather utility belt, and comfortable pants that tuck into my camel-hair boots. I’ve cut my black hair short, and without the extra length, it curls slightly at my temples and nape.

I carry my three chosen items. All recruits are allowed exactly three possessions from their previous lives, and mine are sure to provoke mockery and scorn. But they are precious to me, and I will have them, no matter what.