Antonia gripped the bed sheets around her, feeling that familiar panic rise in her chest. She closed her eyes and opened them again but the darkness remained. Why was it dark? She never slept without several candles burning. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths and stare into the darkness. Nothing to fear, she told herself. Nothing to...The darkness lessened as her eyes adjusted. Where was she? ¡Dios mío! Her breaths grew thick and heavy again, her body rigid. What had happened? The ship, her father... Si, she remembered that but after... The man—Henry. He had taken her in his arms. This had to be his house. She was now under house arrest. A prisoner. Antonia gulped and tried to draw in air but her throat felt as though it was closing over. Did it have to be so dark? She needed to find a candle and light it, but her body refused to move. If she put out her hands, she’d be able to reassure herself that she wasn’t shut away in a box again, but the room was so small. She peered up at the bed and the thick wood seemed like that of a coffin lid to her.
