“We need to get inside his quarters,” Iván says. “Have a look around.”

“I agree,” I say. “We’ll have to be sneaky about it. Recruits aren’t allowed anywhere near the officers’ quarters.”

“We’ll figure out a way,” Iván assures me.

“I sent a message to Elisa,” Rosario says. “Via pigeon. But it will be a few days before her entourage reaches the oasis way station to receive it.”

“Good,” I say. “She might be in danger too. Or Princess Ximena.”

“Hector won’t let anything happen to either of them.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Rosario says, “Well, you two have a place to start.” He gains his feet with obvious reluctance. “Unfortunately, I must return to my quarters. I have a long day ahead of pretending nothing is wrong.”

“Do you have an escort back?” I ask. “Is it safe for you to leave the Wallows?”

“I’m very well protected,” he assures me. “And I’ll be keeping all my public appearances to a minimum until we figure this out or I receive specific orders from the empress. Besides, I’m brave, remember? Everyone says so.” Rosario’s tone is self-mocking, and I think of his Queen’s Star medal. Perhaps the prince is wondering if he can measure up to the gallantry of his early childhood. It’s easy to be brave when you’re a little boy, he told me once. You still think the world is ultimately good. That nothing truly bad will happen to you.

I get to my feet and grasp Rosario’s shoulder. I’m staring at Bolivar, his prone form barely breathing, when I say, “Please be safe, little brother.”

“You too, little sister. Here.” He pulls an iron key from his pocket and places it in my palm. “This will get you into Bolivar’s quarters.”

I close the key into my fist.

“What if we need to contact you?” Iván asks.

“Use the stable hand, the one who slipped the message to you. He’s one of the spymaster’s people. Now go. If you hurry back, you might be able to get a few hours’ sleep. The second day of training is always awful, and I need both of you to perform well.”

“We’ll do our best,” I assure him.

“Do better than your best,” Rosario says. “Do you understand what I’m saying? It’s the single most important thing right now. Don’t get cut.”

11

Now

IVÁN and I sneak back to the barracks. Our bunk room is silent when we enter, except for some soft snoring. Before letting Iván collapse into his bed, I grab his arm and whisper as quietly as possible, “We should eat dinner together again tomorrow, go over what we might have learned, plan how we’re going to get into Bolivar’s quarters.”

He nods once, then stretches out and closes his eyes.

I’m about to stretch out on my own, but my hands encounter something wet and sticky on the blanket. It smells of rich loam and wet ash, and I almost loose an actual sob.