Francisco reached the inn with fury still burning in his eyes. The moment he stepped inside, he snapped; his fist struck the wooden wall with a dull crack. The ambassador's threat had cut far deeper than that man could ever imagine. For Francisco, family was everything. Anyone who dared threaten them stepped directly across his line.
Catalina moved to him at once. Her presence alone helped steady his breath. She coaxed him into sitting, and little by little his anger softened. They spent the night together—talking quietly, unwinding the tension, letting the storm inside him fade.
At dawn, before most guests had even risen, an elegantly dressed woman arrived at the inn.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," she said, surveying the common room. "I am looking for Francisco Gómez, grandson of the Duke of Lerma."
