Before the sun had even set, she retreated upstairs without saying goodnight. Once in the privacy of her dingy hostel chamber, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her sandals blurred as she stared down at them. Antonia Korelli, you will not cry, she commanded herself. But already, her lashes were wet. Why had he done it? When she’d heard the unmistakable bark of his dog, saw the crown of his auburn head through the trees, his robust form darting toward her in rescue, Antonia’s spirits had sung. She was saved! And when Robin had offered for the others to keep the map in exchange for her freedom, Antonia’s heart had soared. She knew what a sacrifice it meant for him. And she’d taken it as a confession of sorts, an expression of the degree to which he…cared about her. Sure, she was relieved—and also incited—to discover that the pistol, which had terrorized her, held no viable threat after all.
