“I’m fine. For now. Have a seat,” Rosario orders, and we comply, sitting cross-legged on the dirt floor beside the captain’s sleeping pallet. Once we’re situated, the prince says, “This is not a natural illness. The captain was poisoned.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Ramifications hit me from all sides, coming so hard and fast it’s hard to sort through them. But one thought crystallizes, clearer than all the others and as sharp as glass.

“This was done so he couldn’t speak for me at the ceremony,” I say in a choked voice.

“Yes, probably,” Rosario says.

“Even though whoever orchestrated this had the votes to stop it.”

“They wanted to be doubly certain the adoption would not go through. No one expected me to speak up for you. And the awkwardness of it all . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if it swayed a few voters in the end.”

Iván leans forward. “Where was the poison administered?” he asks the captain. “Were you in the barracks? The monastery? In your own quarters?”

Good question. We all look to the captain.

“Quarters,” the captain says. “I think . . . my tea.” He’s not up for this conversation. Every response is a major effort.

“His quarters are in the Royal Guard barracks,” Rosario says meaningfully. “He does not keep chambers in the palace, like the lord-commander does. And the only way to access his quarters is through the barracks. No one but Royal Guards, the empress, and her family are allowed inside.”

Iván and I exchange a startled look.

“You’re saying the Guard was infiltrated,” I say.

“Yes,” Rosario confirms. “We have an assassin among us. That’s why I called you here. I need the two of you to find out who it is.”

Hearing there’s an assassin in the Royal Guard is like hearing that the sun is purple or that camels fly. It takes a moment for my thoughts to catch up to the idea, accept it, and finally, to face it head-on.

I say, “Tell me everything you can about the poison that was used.”

“That’s as good a place to start as any,” says Iván.

“I . . .” Bolivar begins. “Duerma . . . in my tea.”

Rosario places a hand on the captain’s shoulder. “I’ll tell them. You just rest.”

Bolivar gives him a grateful look. He pulls his wool blanket up to his shoulders and closes his eyes.

“We think it was sweet dream,” Rosario says.

Iván says, “That stuff made from the duerma plant.”

“So you’ve heard of it,” Rosario says.

“I haven’t,” I say.

Rosario explains, “It first appeared in Brisadulce a few years ago. Sailors are using it a lot. They say it dulls pain, eases seasickness, aids sleep. And it causes a general sense of euphoria in certain doses.”

“We’ve started seeing it in our countship too,” Iván says. “Just this year. A little bit makes you forget your troubles. But too much, and you’ll never have any troubles again.”