by Rae Carson
“For now, Red could accompany us on our state visit to Orovalle,” Hector says.
“That might be best,” Elisa says. “Most of the Royal Guard will be escorting us. And I’m sure once we tell Queen Alodia about our situation, she’ll be glad to assign extra protection from her own guard, which is formidable.”
Conde Tristán is tapping the table with his forefinger. “I wonder,” he says. “Perhaps your schedule was a factor here, with your state trip coming so soon after the adoption ceremony. Whoever engineered this vote knew you would not be around to deal with the repercussions.”
Elisa’s brow furrows. Mena squirms out of her lap—the empress’s absent stroking had become a little too fierce—and plops down beside Hector instead. “That could mean,” Elisa says, her hand drifting to her belly of its own accord, “that news of my pregnancy has leaked. They know the real reason for this trip.”
Tristán nods. “And that you would never cancel it, no matter what happened. You absolutely must be in Orovalle to give birth.”
In a more forgiving climate, he means. Surrounded by midwives familiar with the difficult births experienced by the women of Elisa’s family.
Hector reaches across his daughter for Elisa’s hand and holds tight. The gesture happens mostly under the table, but we all see it. A muscle in Hector’s jaw twitches.
They lost their first child in a difficult birth. A son. He suffocated, the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, before Doctor Enzo could extract him from Elisa’s womb. Three years later, the empress almost bled to death giving birth to Princess Ximena. I was surprised—we all were—when Elisa and Hector decided to try one last time.
A knock sounds. Hector leaps to his feet. He and Tristán close ranks before the table to protect everyone else, their hands shifting to their scabbards. Lord-Commander Dante moves to answer. With a nod to Hector and Tristán, he rotates the bolt and swings it aside.
A man strides in, small in stature and nondescript. I don’t recognize him, but no one shows alarm as he makes his way over to Mara and bends to whisper something in her ear. She asks him a question—so quietly I can’t hear. He nods, whispers back at length, and then he leaves as silently as he came, without so much as a word or gesture to anyone else.
After the bolt is fastened once again, Conde Juan-Carlos says, “The spymaster’s messenger?”
Mara nods. “Our spy web was only able to make quick surface inquiries,” she explains. “But from what we know so far, a rumor has been spreading the past week about our girl.” Mara gives me a smile that is equal measures fondness and sadness.
“Well?” Elisa prompts.
“Apparently Red was overheard saying that religion is a comforting myth. Something about a soothing balm to the hurting masses.”
Oh, god.
“And that God belongs in children’s stories, not policy.”
All eyes are on me again. The skin of my face suddenly burns hot. Were I fully Invierno, my cheeks would be flaming red.
“That does sound like you,” Hector says to me.
“I . . .” No use denying it. “I did say that. To one of my tutors.” The words almost catch in my throat. I messed everything up. All that hard work, and it was tossed away with a few careless words. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing!” Elisa snaps. Then, to Mara, “That can’t be all of it. Many people in this country are not that devout. Nothing about her being half Invierno?”
“Nothing so far. That anyone will admit to, anyway,” Mara says. “But yes, there is another factor. As you suspected, your pregnancy is no longer a secret. So the pressure to produce an heir through adoption was greatly diminished, your past difficulties notwithstanding.”
“So, news of the pregnancy, coupled with rumors of Red’s atheism, made her a disqualified candidate,” says Conde Juan-Carlos. Do I imagine that his voice holds a hint of satisfaction?
“We can try again next year,” Tristán says. “Shore up support. We’ll think of a way to get that two-thirds majority.”
“The girl will have to prove herself,” the General says. “Prove her patriotism.”
“She has proven herself enough,” Elisa says. “She has been proving herself, over and over since the day we found her in that village.”
“Not to the people in that audience chamber, apparently,” the General says.
Hector is shaking his head. “A two-thirds majority is impossible. Too many want to return to the past, even if it’s a past in ruins.”
“We’ll figure it out later,” Tristán says.
“Yes,” Hector says. “For now, we need to keep her safe.”
“She’ll be safest with you, on the road to Orovalle,” Lord-Commander Dante says. “A few Guards will stay behind to protect Prince Rosario and oversee the annual recruitment, but most of my best men will be traveling in state.”
“It’s settled, then,” Conde Tristán says. “Red will pack up and leave with—”
I clear my throat. “Maybe . . . that is . . . do I get a say in any of this?”
Elisa appears horrified. “Oh, my sky, we were talking right over your head, weren’t we? I used to hate it when everyone did that to me.”
“Your thoughts on this are most welcome,” Hector assures me.
I’m not sure what my thoughts are, except that I hate failing. I hate that everyone is disappointed. And running away doesn’t feel right. As a little girl, I ran a lot. Too much. In my nightmares, I’m still running, still scared.
Elisa is searching my face. Mara gives me an encouraging nod. It’s so hot is this room I can hardly breathe. I don’t know how Elisa can stand it.
“Red?” Rosario prompts.
Finally I say, “I’m done running. It’s time to stand my ground.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re right. If I keep running, I’ll keep being scared. I have to face the next thing, whatever it is.
“Standing one’s ground is often the last gasp of a dying defense,” the General says.
“Or the first move of a budding offense,” I retort.
Elisa smiles.
“What did you have in mind?” Hector says.
“I’m not sure . . . maybe . . .” I glance around the room. Everyone meets my gaze except Lord-Commander Dante, whose sole focus is the door and protecting everyone inside.
That’s it. That’s what I want.
I say, “Send me to the Guard.”
“What?” says Lord Dante, forgetting about the door for a moment.
But Elisa seems thoughtful.
“All royal princes spend a year with the Guard recruits, right?” I say, warming to the idea. “Rosario did. So why should it be any different for me or Princess Ximena? Hector, you’ve taught me how to defend myself. I know it was just to . . . help me with . . . to stay calm and . . . channel certain tendencies. But I learned. And I’ve trained with Spymaster Belén, sparred with Rosario. I could probably hold my own.”
Hector also appears thoughtful. “Oh, you could hold your own,” he says.
“Hector,” Elisa says, though she’s looking at me. “Has there ever been a woman in the Royal Guard?”
“No!” Lord Dante says.
“Yes,” Hector says. “Once. A few years before I joined. She dressed as a boy. Posed as her brother, who had obtained an actual sponsorship. When she was discovered a few weeks later, she was immediately sent home.”
“For being a girl,” Elisa says.
“For lying,” Hector clarifies. “For showing up on recruitment day under false pretenses, with a false identity. It was considered treason. King Nicolao chose not to execute her, I’m glad to say. He just sent her home in disgrace.”
“So there’s no law forbidding a woman to try for the Guard?”
“None at all.”
“Your Imperial Majesty,” the lord-commander says, “tradition is a powerful thing, and I don’t—”
“The safest place for me,” I interrupt, “aside from bei
ng with the main contingent in Orovalle, would be here, with the remaining Guard.”
“Red could do it,” Rosario says. “You’ve all seen how seriously she’s taken her training these last few years. All of her training.”
“We could spread the rumor that it’s a punishment,” I say. “For failing so utterly. That as a consequence for betraying the crown with my monstrous beliefs, I must redeem myself and devote my life to defending it.” The words sound bitter, even to me. My beliefs should not be considered monstrous. It’s not like they hurt anybody.
“This year’s class is going to be particularly talented,” Conde Juan-Carlos says. “My younger brother will stand for recruitment. Some promising young men are transferring from the army recruits. And I hear that Queen Cosmé of Basajuan is sending a few lads with potential, as a show of fealty to the empire.”
“Even better,” I tell him. “No one will be able to say I made the cut only because it was an uncompetitive year.”
“Captain Bolivar will not go easy on you just because you’re a girl,” the lord-commander says.
“I would not expect him to.”
“If Captain Bolivar is still . . . here,” Rosario points out.
Everyone in the room pauses to consider. I wish I could hear what they’re thinking. Rosario fiddles with the fringe of his cushion. Mena squirms in Hector’s lap.
Lord Dante is the first to break the silence. “I still advise that we don’t jump into this plan too hastily. There may not be a law against it, per se, but—”
“Lord-Commander Dante,” the empress says in a voice I recognize. She’s about to pull rank. “Is it my Guard, or is it my Guard?”
The commander ducks his head. “Now and always, Your Majesty.”
“You are one of my most trusted friends,” the empress continues. “More like family. When Hector resigned his post, it gave us great confidence and pleasure to appoint you in his place. I know you will do the right thing and protect the crown’s interests in every possible capacity.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. May I speak freely, Majesty?”
“Always.”
“Lady Red is an exceptional candidate for the Royal Guard; I have no doubt about that. And being a woman does not disqualify her in any way. I only meant to say that some will not see things so clearly. If she takes to the sand, her first year will be challenging in ways I can only imagine.”
“I want to do it,” I say.
“I won’t be there to protect you,” he says, finally addressing me directly. “I’ll be in Orovalle with the empress for months. Maybe a year. Hector won’t be here. The empress won’t be here. We have no idea where Bolivar is. You’ll be on your own.”
“I’ll be here,” Rosario says.
“Every recruit leaves home,” I say. “Gives up everything.”
“Almost everything,” Hector clarifies.
“Right. Except three items. Anyway, everyone is alone when they come to the palace on recruitment day. That’s the point, right? We belong to the crown now. Our lives for Elisa’s. So I don’t need special treatment. I’ll succeed or fail on the same terms as everyone else.”
The river rock walls and the thick oak door are meant to deter eavesdropping, but they make a silence feel heavy, as though it’s pressing in.
Princess Mena whispers something in Hector’s ear.
“I think,” Hector whispers back, “that if Red can’t be your sister, she still wants an excuse to see you every day. Like Guardsman Fernando does.”
“Good idea,” Ximena says gravely.
Tristán says, “All right, I like this plan. I think it would discourage any assassination attempts. Red is simply not a target anymore, as a mere Guard recruit. Not to mention the fact that the Guard barracks are nearly impossible to penetrate.”
“Red will still be a target,” Mara says. “Just for different reasons. For being a woman with the audacity to try for the Guard, for instance. Trust me on that.” She and Elisa exchange a knowing glance.
“I’m happy to begin spreading the rumor that this is a punishment, as Red suggested,” Conde Juan-Carlos says. “I promise to be appropriately smug. It should be very convincing, coming from the bitter son of the disgraced traitor, yes?”
“I expect so, Juan-Carlos,” Elisa says. “Thank you. It’s safer for her if everyone believes her dishonored.” The empress shakes her head ruefully. “The first woman in the Royal Guard! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Of course women should be in my Guard. And if you’re sure you can do this, Red, I’ll sponsor your petition for recruitment myself. That guarantees a spot in the sand.”
“This is what you want?” Mara asks me.
“I’m sure I want to try.” And I am. I’ve never been more convinced of the rightness of anything, not since that day eight years ago when Elisa bought me and took me away.
The empress smiles. “Then we have a plan.”
“We have a plan,” Hector echoes.
“Red, be careful,” Mara warns. “We did have the votes for your adoption, less than a week ago. This was a major coup, to spread those rumors so quickly and convince everyone to change their votes. Whoever did it is still out there, Bolivar is still missing, and the empress’s entourage won’t be around to investigate.”
“I understand.”
We all mill about for a short while as I endure half-hearted congratulations, a kiss on the cheek from Mara, hugs from Tristán and Elisa. No one does a good job masking their disappointment at my failed adoption, or their desire to leave the hot Quorum chamber, but at the last second, Hector yanks me aside.
“Red,” he says. “You might be the most qualified candidate in the sand this year.”
He’s so solemn that I’m not sure it’s a compliment. “Er . . . thank you?”
“Some recruits, those from especially privileged families, delay revealing the full extent of their skills and training.”
I chew on this a moment. “To keep from showing off, you mean. To keep from making early enemies.”
He nods. “Others go in hard and fast to establish a pecking order as quickly as possible. I’ve seen both strategies succeed and fail.”
“So your advice is . . . ?”
“No advice. Just information. I trust you to make the right decision for yourself.”
Something about that chokes me up a little, and I find myself swallowing hard.
“And one more thing. The Royal Guard may be the most elite fighting force in the empire, filled with the best men I’ve ever known. But it’s still a large group of men, with all the bad tendencies that large groups of men seem to develop. Especially the new, untried recruits. I made several reforms when I was in charge, work that Lord Dante has continued. But neither of us will be there to reinforce those changes.”
“You’re saying it will be a dangerous place for me because I’m a woman.”
“Yes. But I hope not too dangerous for you to handle, so long as you remain alert.”
“I’m always alert.”
His weathered face is handsome and hard, but once in a while a softness overtakes it. When he looks at his wife and daughter, for instance. And sometimes, when he looks at me.
The prince consort’s hand comes up to cup my cheek. “You can do this, Red. You are brave like Rosario. Smart like Elisa. Loyal like me. You’re the best of all of us, my sky, and you can do this.”
“I can do this,” I whisper back.
It’s the deepest, coolest time of night. I’m lying on my vast canopied bed, the door to my balcony left open to invite the breeze. A slight glow filters through the sheer, fluttering curtains, for the night bloomers in the garden below have opened their petals wide, showing off their luminescing stamens to the night sky. The air smells of cinnamon, thanks to the mug of duerma leaf tea on my bedside table, which was supposed to help me sleep.
But I’m terrible at sleeping, and not even duerma leaf tea can help me tonight.
Beside the mug, the candle on my be
dside table has become a puddle of wax, and only the tiniest flame remains. In a few hours, I’ll leave this luxurious bedroom suite for cold, austere barracks. Elisa and Hector and everyone I love will leave me behind.
It’s my choice, I tell myself. I want them to. I’m a different girl than I used to be. I can handle being alone, and I’ve slept in worse places than barracks.
The candle flame sputters out, drowning in its own mess. I grab a pillow, yank the bedspread off, and toss it all into the corner on the floor. I make a nest of everything, snug against the wall, and hunker down. Sleepily, bedspread pulled up to my shoulders, I trace the ceramic border that rims the floor of my chamber. In daylight, the tiles are soft yellow with painted blue flowers, but tonight, in the near dark, they are merely something slick and cool for me to focus on.
I’m finally, finally drifting to sleep when a knock sounds at my door.
Lord-Commander Dante stationed several Guards outside, so whoever has knocked is someone they’ve chosen to let pass. I’m unalarmed as I rise, pad barefoot across the room, and open the door.
It’s Rosario, his hair mussed, a sheepish grin on his face.
A flash of movement draws me partly into the corridor, and I glimpse a fast-walking figure in a dressing gown, just before she turns the corner and disappears.
“Was that Lady Carilla?” I ask, making no effort to hide my amusement. “Were the two of you . . . together?”
Rosario pushes inside. “No.”
“Well, maybe you should be. At the adoption ceremony, she couldn’t take her eyes off you. She’s nice. I like Carilla.”
Rosario closes the door and latches it. “It’s not like that between us.”
“Then what’s it like, little brother?”
The prince opens his mouth to retort, but changes his mind when he sees all my bedding tossed in the corner. “Sleeping on the floor again?”
I shrug. “Rosario, why are you here? The monastery rang the third hour.”
He plunks down on my bed. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured you might be up too.”
I plop down beside him. “What’s keeping you awake?”
