“The Royal Guard barracks are off-limits to the public, by order of Her Imperial Majesty,” says one.
“I have authorization,” I say, waving my rolled parchment with its red wax seal.
“Who are you?” asks the other.
Not only do I not recognize them, they don’t recognize me. I say, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here on the orders of Prince Rosario himself. Do inspect the seal. But I suggest you allow Sergeant DeLuca or Guardsman Bruno to break it.”
The first Guard holds out his hand. I give him the parchment. He examines it closely, grunting. Then he hands it back. “You may pass,” he says with obvious reluctance.
I dash into the tunnel before he can change his mind.
The sun is not yet touching the rooftops of the Sky Wing, which means the first-year recruits will probably be in the training arena for their afternoon fitness regimen. The barracks are eerily silent as I traverse the long corridor. I’ve been absent only one day, but my heart squeezes to see the familiar rock walls, to peek inside the bunk room and spy Traitors’ Corner at the far end, to pass the mess hall and smell a batch of fresh bread rising in preparation for dinner. When did I become so attached to this place?
I encounter no one—no Guards, no servants. Which is odd. I slow my pace, listening.
Laughter, in the distance. Outside, maybe. It pulls me forward, and finally I break into the sunshine of the sandy training arena.
All the first-year recruits are there, jogging in place with high knees to a count given by Guardsman Bruno. “High, two, three, four!” he urges. “I want to see those knees almost hit your chins!”
I step forward, and Bruno fumbles his count. He goes silent. One by one, the boys stop jogging in place. They turn to see what he’s staring at.
Iván’s face lights up.
“It’s Red!” someone says, and all of a sudden I’m surrounded by sweating bodies and grinning faces. “What are you doing here?” “Are you reinstated?” “We’re going to have a gala celebration of our own tonight.” “You should join us, Red.”
Then Guardsman Bruno is there too, and he reaches through the mob, grabs my shoulder.
“You’re not supposed to be here, girl,” he says.
I hold up Rosario’s letter. “I have authorization, sir. His Imperial Highness is officially drafting all first-year recruits into service for the evening. He has sent me to fetch them.”
The air goes taut with silence. Bruno takes the letter, breaks the seal, reads.
I hold my breath. If he’s not loyal to the prince, he might try to stop us.
“Well,” he says at last. “Everything looks in order.” He rolls the letter back up, hands it back to me. “Lady Red, the first-year recruit class is yours.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Guardsman Bruno wears a slight smile as he turns his back on us and exits the arena, leaving us all alone.
“Whoa,” says Pedrón. “What just happened?”
“I think we’re Royal Guards now,” says Rito. “Real Royal Guards.”
“At least temporarily,” I say. Two palace watch soldiers pass by along the arena wall. “Let’s get back to the bunk room. I’ll explain everything there, in private.”
“Wait!” says Aldo. “There’s something we need to do first.”
Everyone snaps to attention at his voice.
A brass half-moon is now pinned to the shoulder of his uniform. At my questioning look, he says, “Yesterday after you left, the recruits voted me squad leader.”
“Aldo, that’s wonderful!” I say. “Congratulations.”
He beams. “Thank you.”
“If the two of you hadn’t agreed to start the practice group, we wouldn’t have any useful training by now,” Pedrón says.
“But it was close,” Rito explains. “A tie vote between him and Iván. Sergeant DeLuca had to break the tie.”
Something about that makes me twitch. But I say, “Well, you couldn’t go wrong with either.”
“Anyway, once I knew I was squad leader,” Aldo says, “I arranged for a little surprise for everyone to celebrate Deliverance Day. Bruno helped me. He said we’d earned it. Seems like I ought to give it to you all now, before we head off for duty. Is that all right with you, Red? Do we have a few minutes to spare?”
“I think so, yes.”
Aldo grins. “Follow me!” As we exit the arena, he says, “I’m really glad to see you, Red.”
“Nice sword,” says Pedrón. “Can I hold it?”
“No! Get your own.”
“Where did you go after you left?” Iván asked.
“To the monastery. To . . .” I almost say “to pray,” but that would be a bold-faced lie. “To find some peace.”
He gives me a strange look.
Aldo leads us to the latrine and gestures for us to go inside.
“Really?” says Pedrón. “The latrine?”
“Sorry, but yes,” Aldo says with a sheepish grin. “There wasn’t enough space in the bunk room.”
We file in. The smell is terrible, way worse than usual, as though the latrine hasn’t been maintained all day.
“Aldo, what are you talking about?” Rito says. “There’s nothing—”
The door slams shut behind us. The bar latch thuds down, locking us in.
23
Now
I’M attacking the door, pounding with hands and feet, yelling for Aldo, even as my mind parses what just happened.
“Aldo, this isn’t funny!” Pedrón calls out.
“Yes, this is a very bad time for a prank,” yells Arturo.
“It’s not a prank,” Iván says darkly.
“Aldo!” I’m practically screaming. “What are you doing?”
Something heavy scrapes across the stone floor outside, plunks against the door.
“What was that?” asks Luca.
I step back from the door. I don’t realize tears are streaming down my face until a drop of wetness hits my collarbone. “He’s blocking us in,” I say. “He’s probably dragging cots and nightstands over, anything he can find. He has betrayed us.”
“Why?” says Rito.
“Why?” I echo, louder, my mouth to the door. “Aldo, why are you doing this?”
Finally a muffled voice reaches us. “All you had to do was eat breakfast today. But no, you just had to tell everyone not to eat or drink. So I had to improvise.”
I whirl on Iván. “Everyone heeded your warning?”
“Most of them.”
“I’m really hungry,” Pedrón says.
“What about the rest of the Guard? Second years? Bruno’s people? The barracks were oddly quiet when I got here.”
“I don’t know,” Iván says. “I suspect that whoever heard the rumor had a choice, and some people made the choice to eat and drink and some didn’t.”
“The Guards at the entrance,” I say. “I didn’t recognize them.”
“You think they’ve been replaced?” Iván says.