“This doesn’t narrow things down at all,” I say. “Anyone could have gotten hold of some and given it to Captain Bolivar.”
“Anyone in the Guard,” Rosario clarifies.
We are silent a long moment, contemplating. The oil lamp sputters, casting odd shadows against the hut’s palm thatching. Captain Bolivar startles in his sleep. He wrenches his blanket down, muttering, but does not awaken. Sweat now sheens his brow.
Rosario whispers, “He almost died.” I hear his unspoken words too. He might still die.
“I’ll be honest,” Iván says. “I have no idea where to start. Even with most of the Guard traveling with the empress, the group remaining is huge—servants and support staff, the Guards who oversee training, four years’ worth of recruits. . . .”
“Rosario, you could order a search of the barracks,” I suggest. “See if anyone is in possession of sweet dream poison.”
“I’ve considered it. I just don’t have the staff. Think about who Elisa would normally use for such a task.”
“The Royal Guard,” I say glumly.
“Exactly. If I started searching with my remaining contingent of trusted bodyguards, the assassin would hide the evidence long before they reached him.”
Iván asks, “How do we know the assassin isn’t traveling with the empress? I mean, Captain Bolivar was poisoned before she left, right?”
“It’s possible,” the prince says, “but highly, highly unlikely. Everyone accompanying the empress is a trusted longtime confidant. Most have been with us since before the Second Battle of Brisadulce. And why attack the captain? Why not the empress herself? No, it was someone who has access to the Guard barracks—but not to Elisa.”
“You think there’s something bigger going on here,” I say.
“Yes. Well, I’m not sure. If this were an isolated event, I’d think the poisoner was a rival of the captain’s. Or it was a prank gone horribly wrong. But the way it coincided with the sabotage of your adoption ceremony . . .” Rosario shakes his head. “It feels like an opening volley. Like it heralds something else. Something worse.”
“Maybe it’s Red’s Invierno blood that has someone so riled up,” Iván suggests.
“I’m not an In—”
“You keep saying that,” he says. “And I get that you’re Joyan in your heart of hearts, but people just don’t see you like that. Besides, you deny your parentage so stridently, one has to wonder what you’re ashamed of.”
My fists ball up of their own accord. I’d love nothing more than to give that beautiful face the bloodiest nose. Through clenched teeth I say, “I’m not ashamed of anything about myself.”
“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.”
“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.