“So that’s it,” Hector says. “That’s what the Inviernos want.”
I look up to see his eyes narrowed and distant. “Hector?”
“They’ve been campaigning for port rights for years. They want to search for it.”
“Is that true?” I ask Storm.
“It is.”
“So why reveal it now?”
“It is as I told you. I am Your Majesty’s loyal subject.”
“It must be terrible to subject yourself to a rank cow.”
He nods in solemn agreement. “Indeed.”
I consider him a moment. He is too valuable to risk. “I’m going to let you go. I’ll send guards to escort you in secrecy. But next time you must answer my summons.”
He opens his mouth as if to protest, then snaps it closed. Instead, he bows. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I turn to go, and my companions follow my lead. I’m sure Alentín and Ximena are itching to get back to the archive and scour it for references to the zafira. But Rosario yanks on my hand, stopping me. I look down into pleading eyes and a trembling lower lip. “What is it, Highness?”
He gathers himself up, blinks a few times, turns to face the Invierno.
Rosario says, “You are a very, very bad man.” And he releases my hand and flees down the stairs ahead of us.
Hector and I exchange a puzzled look. He says, “I think Rosario just needed to . . . say something?”
“I’m not, you know,” says Storm. “A bad man. I’ve always tried to do right, to follow the path of God.”
I shrug. “From the mouths of innocents flows truth.” I head for the stairs, not bothering to gauge his response. We hurry down, past the startled soldiers at their card table, and after our prince.
We find him alone in the courtyard. The sun glints off tears streaming down his cheeks. He wipes at them furiously, and we all slow down to give him time to compose himself.
In the most casual tone I can muster, I say, “I have a lesson now with Hector, but Father Alentín might have a moment to take you to the kitchens for some coconut pie.”
He nods, gulping. Then he wraps my waist in a quick hug. He lets me ruffle his hair for just a moment before pushing off and finding Alentín’s hand. The priest winks at me over his shoulder, and I watch them saunter off together toward the kitchens.
“He’s a remarkable boy,” Ximena says.
“He is. I just worry sometimes that he is . . . damaged. He watched his father burn.”
“Alejandro was damaged too,” Hector says, his brow furrowed. He rubs the pommel of his sword with his thumb. “Perhaps it is the price of ruling.”
As I head back to my suite, flanked by my guard and my guardian, I wonder at his words, afraid to ask if he thinks I am damaged too.
As I anticipated, instead of staying to observe my self-defense lesson with Hector, Ximena hurries off to the monastery archive. Fernando steps outside to guard the door to the king’s suite. The rest take up their posts in my own chambers. Like last time, I am dressed in my desert garb: soft breeches, a loose blouse, leather boots.
Hector’s brow is still furrowed, and he paces back and forth like a restless cat. I search for a way to break the silence. “Er . . . will I stomp on your foot again today?”
“No,” he snaps, and I almost take an involuntary step back. “Today, you’ll learn which body parts should be sacrificed in defense of others.” His words are clipped and harsh, his gaze dark with intensity.
“For instance,” he continues, “it’s better to block a sword with your forearm and let the bones shatter than allow someone access to your throat. And I’ll show you which part of your forearm to use so that you’re less likely to bleed out. After that, I’ll demonstrate some pressure points, places on the body where you can inflict great pain with very little effort. And then—”
“Hector.”
“—we’ll do some stretching exercises to give you better range of motion, especially in your arms and shoulders. It’s easier to slip from someone’s grasp without injury if—”
“Hector!”
“—the muscles are already limber and flexible. We need to get you thinking of your elbows, the crown of your head, even your chin, as potential weapons at your disposal. After that—”
“HECTOR! Stop.”
His mouth snaps closed.
“You can’t possibly teach me all of that in one afternoon.”
He resumes pacing. “In that case, we’ll get as far as we can. I think it’s best we start with pressure points and then move—”
Swiftly I close the distance between us and cup his face with my hands.