Elisa inclines her head. “It shall be done. And you, Recruit Red? What boon will you ask? If it is both reasonable and within my power, I shall grant it.”
This is what I’ve been waiting for.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Rosario catches my eye, gives me a slight nod.
I try again. “If it please Your Majesty,” I begin, my voice reed-thin. “I ask that you reconsider the adoption petition we put forth together in this very throne room almost a year ago.”
The audience murmurs. Elisa frowns. “The chamber already voted. What has been done by the chamber cannot be undone by me.”
“The chamber voted to deny adoption with inheritance,” I clarify. “As delineated in article fifty-seven, section eight, of the Articles of the Empire. However, the Articles do not address adoption without inheritance.”
My heart is racing now. It feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the audience hall.
Elisa nods, considering. She says, “And of course, all powers not specifically delineated by the Articles remain with the crown.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I squeak out.
“So you’re saying . . .” Do I imagine that her voice wavers a little? Beside her, Hector, Rosario, and Mara . . . they’re all still as statues, barely breathing, waiting to hear what comes next.
The empress’s thoughtful gaze deepens. Adopting me without making me an heir confers little political advantage. She will do it only if she wants me. Just me.
Hector reaches down for his wife’s shoulder, squeezes.
Elisa says, “You’re saying you would like to become our daughter, even if it means relinquishing all claim to the rights and powers of the throne. Even if it means you will be struck from the line of succession, your title of princess an honorific only?”
I can hardly get the words out. “Yes, Your Majesty. More than anything.”
The audience murmurs again, but this time there is a more favorable tone to it. Murmurs definitely have tones. Or do I imagine the sense of approval emanating at my back?
In a stronger voice, I add, “And truth be told, being an inheriting princess wouldn’t work for me. You see, I want to remain in your Guard.”
Elisa launches to her feet. Her chin quivers. She gestures for Hector, Rosario, and Ximena to accompany her, and together they rush down the steps.
“My Red,” she says, opening her arms wide, and I go to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Her arms wrap me tight. Then Hector’s and Rosario’s. Tinier arms clutch my waist.
“My sky,” Hector says. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Welcome to the family, little sister,” says Rosario.
“I knew you would be my sistew,” says Mena. “I knew it!”
“Look,” Elisa says, brushing aside the swaddling from the sleeping face of the infant in Hector’s arms. “It’s time to meet your baby brother.”
I sit on the arena wall, my legs dangling over the side. Iván sits beside me. Pedrón is a few paces away, collecting bets from the Arturos. Tall Arturo is our squad leader now. Iván and I split most of the vote, allowing Arturo to overtake us both. Which is perfectly fine with all of us; he’ll be a great leader.
Below us is an assembly of children, ranging from ages twelve to eighteen. This year, there are nearly forty, in various styles and quality of dress. They’ve taken to the sand in hopes of making it through recruitment training and becoming Royal Guards.
Two of them are girls.
I’m unsurprised when Prince Hector strides toward us; he often attends recruitment day. Everyone begins snapping to attention, accosting him with a chorus of “Good morning, Your Highness,” but he waves us at ease. “Placing bets, I take it?” he says to me.
“We would never,” I say, even though I’m the worst liar who ever lived.
He grins. Then he leans down and kisses the top of my head.
“Papá!” I whisper in protest. “Not in front of everyone.”
“They’re used to it,” he says. “You’ve already been my girl for eight years.” To everyone else he says, “Enjoy the show,” and he strides away to join another group of onlookers.
“That tall fellow looks promising,” Iván says, pointing to a boy whose incredible height makes him a head taller than the next tallest recruit. “Who’d you bet on?”
“Her.” I point. “Carilla. She’s going to surprise everyone.”
He snorts. “She’s already a favorite. Everyone knows she’s Rosario’s guardian.”
“But now that the secret is out, she might as well train publicly.”
“Actually, I bet on her too.”
I smile up at him, marveling that I ever thought him horrible.
“We’ve come a long way,” he says, as if discerning my thoughts.
“Even made some friends.”
“Not us, though.”
“Of course not. We’ll never be friends.”
He fails to hide his smile, looking down at the recruits in the sand as they’re paired off for sparring. The morning sun peeks through the palace towers, bathing the stone walls in light and heat. “Well, Princess,” he says. “How does it feel to be the first girl to survive a year of recruit training?”
“Not as good as it’s going to feel to become the first lady-commander.”
His lips twitch. “You’ll have a good shot at it, your mother being the empress, your father being a former lord-commander.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “My parents will be harder on me than anyone. That’s how they are.”
Iván’s gaze moves toward my father, who is chatting easily with a group of nobles who’ve come to watch the spectacle. “He’s the kind of father who’ll always show up, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t hate it.”
“No.”
He bumps my shoulder with his own. “Just the same, I might give you some competition for that commander position.”
“Good! Though, before we think about that too much . . .”
“We have to survive year two.”
“We will,” I tell him with conviction. “All of us, together.”