Jason Weiser

Now, here in a poplar grove that stretched up to the manor, Doña sat with it, almost in prayer, as if it was a holy relic.

In many ways, it was.

A relic of the life she had lost.

When the two men, Don Gaspar Contreras and Leonardo, emerged, laughing on the path down to the docks, she stood in front of them.

Don Leonardo, and you, Don Gaspar Contreras, she called out.

a hood and cloak on a path in front of them.

Do you know who I am?

Gaspar Contreras shoulder checked her, but Don Leonardo was more polite.

Another time, friend.

We are pressed and have to join our ship.

He waved her off.

Do you know who I am?

Doña called out.

The men ignored her and kept walking.

Doña's throaty, mock male voice gave way to the tones of the young woman, whose beauty had spread across the country.

Do you know who I am?

What does this little nothing mean by shouting at us in the street in the middle of the night?

Don Leonardo's patience was a facade that crumbled at the first annoyance.

This nothing calls for you to answer with your vile lives for the noble one of Don Pedro Valenzuela.

You did not duel him.