“Oh? Then why do you hide that white streak in your hair? White like the hair of an animagus, I’m told. A magic mark.”

I rise to my feet. My fists are thunder, my breath is fire as I advance on him.

“Stop it!” Rosario yells. “Both of you, just stop. Red, sit down.”

I turn my fury on Rosario.

A wave of sadness passes across his face. Softly, commandingly, Rosario says, “Recruit Red, as your prince, I order you to sit down at once.”

It’s like a slap to the face. In eight years of growing up together, Rosario has never pulled rank on me. Not once.

I make my face blank as I obey. But as I sit, I clasp my hands together in my lap to hide the fact that they’re trembling just a little.

The ruckus has roused Captain Bolivar, who peers at us blearily.

“I can’t believe you made me do that,” Rosario says. “You two are my most trusted friends.”

I say, “Him?” even as Iván says, “Her?”

“I said stop it.” I’ve never seen Rosario like this, so frustrated, so angry, so frightened. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but get over it, grow up, and get along.”

I open my mouth to insist that Iván started it, but I realize how petulant it will sound and wisely keep quiet. Instead, I stare at the hands clasped in my lap and concentrate on my breathing. I imagine Hector’s voice in my head. In four counts, out four counts.

When I’m certain I have control of my temper, I address Bolivar as though nothing has happened: “Captain, do you remember who brought your tea?”

“Made it myself,” he mumbles.

“So you have your own stash of tea,” I clarify.

“Yes.”

“Did someone bring you water for it?”

“No. Boiled that myself too.”

Iván says, “The captain has quarters to himself, I assume.”

“He does,” Rosario says.

“With a locking door?” I ask.

“Yes,” the captain says.

“So it would not be easy to waltz into your quarters and poison your stash or kettle.”

“He told me he took his tea the night before the adoption ceremony,” Rosario says. “As is his habit. He started to feel odd as he was readying for bed, suspected poison, and forced himself to vomit. Then he passed out on the floor of the latrine. When he woke, he found himself inside the secret passage; he vaguely remembers dragging himself inside when he was barely conscious.”

“That explains why Lord-Commander Dante couldn’t find him,” I say.

“We suspect he was out cold for more than a day. When he regained consciousness, he stumbled to the catacombs. Fernando helped him reach the village, then sent for me. I brought Doctor Enzo down here to treat him. The doctor says he needs rest and lots of water to flush out the rest of the poison.”

“Did the tea taste unusual?” I ask.

“Tasted funny,” the captain says. “Spicier, with sediment. Only had a few sips.”