At last Iván says, “I just said I would, same as everyone.” His tone is wary, calculated.

Not exactly a yes, but I say, “Good” and turn away from him.

I’m filled with misgiving as we all hurry to catch up to Bruno, who continues on as though nothing has happened.

We turn left and find ourselves in a squat, windowless chamber, filled with bunked cots. The walls are made of hardened earth, buttressed by massive ceiling beams. Three oil lamps hang from the center beam, providing meager orange light. The room is cool and slightly damp, and it smells faintly of rat feces.

Guardsman Bruno says, “Go claim a bed.”

Everyone rushes forward. I dart to the farthest end of the room and grab the bottom bunk. It would be wiser to sleep near the doorway, allowing myself a quick escape, not to mention fresher air. But I like the way this bunk is tucked into the corner. It feels like a cave.

Beside each bunk is a small chest with two drawers, one drawer for each of us. I place my three precious items in the bottom drawer. I’ll have to come up with a better hiding place soon. Hector told me that thieving is rare in the Guard and harshly punished, but I’d rather take precautions.

“Do you mind having me for a bunkmate?” says a voice at my shoulder. It’s Aldo.

“Do you snore?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think—”

“I’m glad to have you as a bunkmate.”

His grin is sheepish as he drapes his beautiful blanket over the top bunk and stashes his other two items—a gold ring with the crest removed, and a small perfumer’s vial—into the drawer above mine. Maybe they’re remembrances of home and family. But he’s not asking about my items, so I won’t ask about his.

Aldo says, “I thought they might put you in a different room, being a girl and all.”

I shrug. “It wouldn’t be right to give me my own room. I guess I’ll get the same treatment as everyone else.”

“But how will you get dressed? And . . . er . . . relieve yourself . . .”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Everyone sorts themselves quickly. I’m glad to see the army recruits, including Pedrón, the boy who tried to look down my shirt, taking bunks near the doorway. I’ll sleep easier with them far away. Valentino is a few bunks down from Aldo and me. Iván tries several times to claim a bunk, only to be rebuffed. No one wants to sleep near the son of a traitor.

Eventually he ends up right across from us, with a bunk all to himself. He claims the bottom, leaving the one above him free. The empty top bunk will be a constant reminder of the boy who washed out this morning. Perhaps, after a few weeks, this chamber will have a lot of empty spaces.

“We should name this section of quarters,” Aldo says to me and Iván. “Outcast Territory?”