a thief, but the cake knife was not large or sharp enough to get through the boy’s wrist.”
I suppress a shudder.
“Well, that explains what I’ve been hearing down on the docks,” Lucio says.
“Oh?”
“Half the people I talk to worship him like a god. He punishes criminals brutally and swiftly. They believe it successfully discourages crime.”
“The other half?” I press.
“They refuse to talk about him at all. I think . . . I think they might be terrified of him.”
“Did anyone say anything about Isadora?” Fernando asks.
“No. Although word is out that Solvaño has ordered extra supplies to host four royal envoys. He’s been bragging about it, apparently.”
“Envoys?” I laugh.
“You don’t consider us envoys?” Miria says to me sharply.
Fernando and Lucio look to me for a reaction, so I’m quick to clarify. “I’m just surprised he’s bragging about hosting us . He could not have greeted us less warmly.”
“According to the wine merchant, he boasted about how much it was costing him to provide for his important guests. To be honest, I didn’t even realize the merchant was talking about us at first,” Lucio says.
“You weren’t buying wine, were you?” I ask, suddenly on alert.
“I don’t have any money, so I tried to barter for it,” Lucio admits.
I grab him by the collar, ready to go after him like I did in the stable. “I thought you were joking earlier. If you drink on duty, so help me God, you will never carry a sword in Alejandro’s service. If we’d been too drunk to set watch on the road the other night—if Fernando had been too tipsy to hit his target—we’d all be dead.”
He puts up his hands and leans back, but there is no place for him to go except into the fireplace. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says. “I didn’t—”
“I mean everything by it,” I say. I refuse to end up dead, or even cut from the Guard, because some eighteen-year-old man-boy is in his cups. “A Guardsman gets regular leave, a couple days a month. If you want to spend every minute of that leave drunk, I’ll buy your wine for you. But never, ever touch a drop when you’re on duty. And until we get back to Brisadulce, you’re on duty every single minute . Do I make myself clear?”
He is silent a long moment. A muscle in his cheek twitches. Then he says, “I didn’t drink any. I wanted to. But I . . .” He looks down. Scuffs his boot against the rug. “I poured it over the side of the dock.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what to say. He’s probably lying about pouring out the wine. But what if he’s not? Maybe, just maybe, he wants to make it in the Guard as much as I do.
Again, I notice Miria watching me. “Do you have something to say?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
Lucio straightens his collar and tugs down the hem of his shirt. “It was wine from your family the merchant was selling. A shipload just arrived from Ventierra with an early harvest red.”
“My brother’s ship,” I say. “He is— was —going to come visit me when they made port in Brisadulce.”
I’m thinking about whether I should try to meet him here in Puerto Verde when Miria says, a bit archly, “What progress have you made?”
I sigh. “Well, I’ve ruined a priceless book with bad drawings.” I lean against the bedpost, thumbing through the book. “The mayordomo took me on an impossibly quick tour of the fortress. I had to demand more time so I could make sketches.”
“He’s catalogued every room in the tower,” Fernando says in a pained voice. He patiently kept watch while I sketched.
I shake my head. “If they have something to hide, it’s not in the tower. The mayordomo made a point of showing me all twelve chambers, which they now use for storage. They’re cold and damp from the ocean, crusted with sea salt. Some of the walls are badly cracked. The whole place is gloomy and awful; only five chambers even have windows.”
“Six windows,” Lucio
I suppress a shudder.
“Well, that explains what I’ve been hearing down on the docks,” Lucio says.
“Oh?”
“Half the people I talk to worship him like a god. He punishes criminals brutally and swiftly. They believe it successfully discourages crime.”
“The other half?” I press.
“They refuse to talk about him at all. I think . . . I think they might be terrified of him.”
“Did anyone say anything about Isadora?” Fernando asks.
“No. Although word is out that Solvaño has ordered extra supplies to host four royal envoys. He’s been bragging about it, apparently.”
“Envoys?” I laugh.
“You don’t consider us envoys?” Miria says to me sharply.
Fernando and Lucio look to me for a reaction, so I’m quick to clarify. “I’m just surprised he’s bragging about hosting us . He could not have greeted us less warmly.”
“According to the wine merchant, he boasted about how much it was costing him to provide for his important guests. To be honest, I didn’t even realize the merchant was talking about us at first,” Lucio says.
“You weren’t buying wine, were you?” I ask, suddenly on alert.
“I don’t have any money, so I tried to barter for it,” Lucio admits.
I grab him by the collar, ready to go after him like I did in the stable. “I thought you were joking earlier. If you drink on duty, so help me God, you will never carry a sword in Alejandro’s service. If we’d been too drunk to set watch on the road the other night—if Fernando had been too tipsy to hit his target—we’d all be dead.”
He puts up his hands and leans back, but there is no place for him to go except into the fireplace. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says. “I didn’t—”
“I mean everything by it,” I say. I refuse to end up dead, or even cut from the Guard, because some eighteen-year-old man-boy is in his cups. “A Guardsman gets regular leave, a couple days a month. If you want to spend every minute of that leave drunk, I’ll buy your wine for you. But never, ever touch a drop when you’re on duty. And until we get back to Brisadulce, you’re on duty every single minute . Do I make myself clear?”
He is silent a long moment. A muscle in his cheek twitches. Then he says, “I didn’t drink any. I wanted to. But I . . .” He looks down. Scuffs his boot against the rug. “I poured it over the side of the dock.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what to say. He’s probably lying about pouring out the wine. But what if he’s not? Maybe, just maybe, he wants to make it in the Guard as much as I do.
Again, I notice Miria watching me. “Do you have something to say?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
Lucio straightens his collar and tugs down the hem of his shirt. “It was wine from your family the merchant was selling. A shipload just arrived from Ventierra with an early harvest red.”
“My brother’s ship,” I say. “He is— was —going to come visit me when they made port in Brisadulce.”
I’m thinking about whether I should try to meet him here in Puerto Verde when Miria says, a bit archly, “What progress have you made?”
I sigh. “Well, I’ve ruined a priceless book with bad drawings.” I lean against the bedpost, thumbing through the book. “The mayordomo took me on an impossibly quick tour of the fortress. I had to demand more time so I could make sketches.”
“He’s catalogued every room in the tower,” Fernando says in a pained voice. He patiently kept watch while I sketched.
I shake my head. “If they have something to hide, it’s not in the tower. The mayordomo made a point of showing me all twelve chambers, which they now use for storage. They’re cold and damp from the ocean, crusted with sea salt. Some of the walls are badly cracked. The whole place is gloomy and awful; only five chambers even have windows.”
“Six windows,” Lucio
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