Jason Weiser

Now the men were working their horses to a lather, riding for the coast.

Dunya dropped her glove and made a point of going to look for it.

while the old men bickered over whether a coin was sitting close enough to be added to the pile and understood as a bet or not.

She was her love that had killed him.

Doña steeled herself.

I know my cousin's family, Doña said.

surprised by how steady her voice was.

Did they honestly believe what that man said?

They didn't.

Everyone, it seemed, knew about Doña and Pedro.

The sight of her living her life raised the hackles of the young nobles, who were insistent that if Doña didn't go to some old man on the coast, she would go to one of them.

When they saw her smiling at this nobody, this nothing, this Don Pedro, they couldn't take it.

If a duel took place, it wasn't a fair one.

And now it looked like when they fled Valencia, they took Doña with them, because she disappeared that same day.

Doña lingered to order enough drinks for the table, and lose enough that people were sad to see the person they thought to be a young man leave.

with Dunya laughing that she would be back tomorrow if she could afford it.

Shaking with fury, she wanted to collapse in an alley and weep, to sink into a hole and be alone with the pain she knew couldn't possibly abate.

She might have time, someday, to do that, but for now, she had to buy a horse and ride for the coast.

A ship would take them from there to anywhere else in the world in three days' time, and they would be gone forever.

At first light,