I stop myself just in time. Because he’s not taking liberties. He’s slipping something into my pocket. Something light. A note, I’d wager, though I don’t dare pat my pocket to check just now.

“I’ll let Guardsman Bruno know you’re all doing a good job,” he says, and the stable hand walks off, whistling a merry tune.

“That was weird,” Valentino says between pained breaths. He’s tossing out one forkful of straw for every three of ours.

“Hector told me they’d be evaluating us,” I say. “All the time, no matter what we were doing. So I’m sure that stable hand will report back to Bruno for true.” I’m dying to reach into my pocket. The imperial spy network uses pickpockets and sleight of hand to pass messages. Or maybe it’s an enemy, and the note contains a threat.

“You know the prince consort well, do you?” Aldo says.

I freeze, pitchfork raised, unsure how much I should say. Once again, I fall back on the truth. “He was going to be my adopted father, remember?”

“Oh. Right. Well, I thought maybe that was all for show.”

Pain needles my gut, as though Aldo had sifted through my mind for my worst fears, plucked them out, and stabbed me with them. It was all for show.

Valentino says, “My father thought it was a political ploy. To force people to start accepting the Invierno presence in Joya.”

“I’m not an Invern—”

“I’ll never accept Inviernos,” Pedrón says. “Inviernos killed my uncle.”

He’s not the only person in the capital who feels that way, even if he’s the only one who has said it to my face. We are silent a long moment, tossing straw into the wagon, and my own tossing is perhaps a little more violent than necessary. It’s a nice, distracting rhythm. Scoop, carry, toss. Scoop, carry, toss.

Valentino is the one to break the silence. He leans against the wall, hand to his side, and breathes heavily. “So, Pedrón. If you disagree with the empress’s foreign policy, why did you join the Royal Guard?”

Good question. We all look to Pedrón for his answer.

The army recruit responds without pausing his work. “I do hate her foreign policy, but I like her quite a lot. She saved us all. And she’s . . . nice.” He tosses a huge pile of straw into the wagon, wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and plunges the pitchfork into another pile. “I think she’s not taking the Invierno threat seriously enough. That’s all right. I’ll take it seriously for her. Maybe next time an Invierno comes for her, I’ll be there.”

I say, “So you want to protect Elisa from herself.”

“Sort of. I guess.” Pedrón grins. “Also, joining the Royal Guard is great way to meet girls. Girls love Royal Guard recruits. Even more than army.”

“Gross,” I say as Aldo rolls his eyes.

“Little did I know,” Pedrón continues unabashed, “that I’d meet some girls on my very first day.” He winks at me.