When I am queen, I will put a stop to it all. I will regain the loyalty and trust of our people. I will make this region strong again. And to do it, I will need the help of Paxón, the conde who rules this region.

Which is why, when we received an invitation to the wedding of Conde Paxón and a certain Lady Calla, I insisted to Papá that I be allowed to attend. Furthermore, I insisted on bringing wedding gifts fit for a royal ally—with well-armed soldiers to deliver them.

According to my informants, his bride-to-be is a lovely young woman with a wealthy father. But it would not matter to me if she were a crofter’s daughter. It’s past time for the conde to marry. He was a tremendous soldier in the last war. Afterward, he pursued hunting and drinking with the same ruthless tenacity—until he met his match in a giant boar who gored him. If it were up to me, I would knight the boar for putting an end to Paxón’s wild ways and making him look to his legacy. A conde with a family is a man with something to lose, and a man with something to lose is always more eager to stand behind the shield of a strong king. Or queen.

I intend to know his measure and show him mine before he becomes my vassal.

A ruckus from behind causes me to whirl in my seat, and my temper flares. My fifteen-year-old sister, Elisa, follows me in her own carriage, accompanied by her nurse, Lady Ximena. She always carries a bag full of pastries when she travels, and now she throws bits of bread to the scrawny children lining our rocky road.

Mothers urge them toward the carriage, knowing the guards will be reluctant to draw blades against them. Emboldened, the children slip through their formation and bang on the sides of the carriage, thrusting up dirty hands for more. A baguette drops onto the dusty earth. Three small boys scramble for it, pulling it to shreds.

My sister is delighted. She grins enormously and breaks her bread into pieces as fast as she can. I signal to Zito, but he already moves toward her carriage, barking orders. That’s the exact moment Elisa realizes her predicament, that her naive generosity has created a mob. The smile dies on her face as she recoils against her nurse.

My hand flies to my bodice where my dagger lies hidden. The guards shout at everyone to disperse, but one boy tries to climb inside the carriage. Lady Ximena shoves him back into the waiting arms of a guard. A woman shrieks—the boy’s mother?—as, finally, the guards draw their swords.

And just like that, the children slink away. Most melt into the leafless trees, until only a few remain to observe our procession from a cautious distance.