Jason Weiser

Dunya didn't know whether it was a thoughtless mention or an enterprising maid, but soon, what was merely whispered between bemused staff was spoken aloud to her parents.

They didn't know about the visits, about how the two young people had plans, and that they would be together even if it was forbidden.

His voice drifted softly on the night air that night, and she smiled.

She knew that, no matter what, they had each other.

Doña rose toward the end of the song, and her bare feet found the path over to the window.

Even just seeing his face would set everything right.

Drawing the curtain back, her heart was at ease when he warmed at the recognition of her eyes, sparkling there in the moonlight.

Doña, my love, Pedro called out in a whisper.

Then he grew serious.

Donya?

Up at the window, Donya saw something that Pedro didn't.

Two figures, cloaked, with masks drawn up to their eyes, materialized behind him.

Pedro, she yelled, but it was too late.

One man's hand found Pedro's mouth.

A dagger flashed in the moonlight.

Droplets scattered on the ground before the torrent as the man plunged the knife again and again into Pedro's stomach.

Doña screamed as Pedro dropped, the brigand leaving the knife in the heart.

They went through his coat as Doña spun.

By the time she made it downstairs and across the garden, the cloaks had long since melded back into the shadows, and Pedro lay alone, his breathing relaxed at the sight of her face.

Doña's tears mingled with the blood on the edges of his mouth as it curled into its final smile.