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for dinner.
    “I want him to see how pretty you are,” she said.
    I didn’t bother answering her.
    The ribbon wasn’t in the armoire or in the wooden chest at the foot of my bed.
    “Young mistress, Doña Catarina is getting impatient,” Sofia said. “She asked me to tell you to come downstairs immediately. She is waiting for you in the dining hall, as is Don Enrique. Don Luis will be arriving very soon.”
    “Tell my mother that I’ll be there in a minute.”
    My maid left. I looked in my workbox, but the ribbon wasn’t there either, so I gave up. My parents did not like to be kept waiting. Nor did I want to make them angry.
    I skipped down the staircase, two steps at a time, and ran straight into Luis.
    “Whoa, my lady!” he said, grabbing me by the waist. His fingers lingered too long. “What’s your hurry?”
    “My parents are waiting for me, my lord. And for you, too.”
    I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.
    “Where have you been, my pretty? I haven’t seen you for days.”
    “I’ve been busy, my lord.”
    “Then make yourself less busy. You must learn how to treat your master.”
    He finally released me. How I wished that I could swipe the smirk off his lips. I curtsied and hurried away. I heard him chuckling as he followed me. I felt unclean.

C HAPTER 5
 
T HURSDAY , D ECEMBER 1, 1491
    T ia Juana’s house stood inside the stone walls of Toledo. Although she wasn’t my aunt by blood, I called Doña Juana
tia
because I had known and loved her all my life. She was my godmother and Mama’s oldest friend, just as her daughter Brianda was now my oldest friend.
    Mama and I sat in the litter, with Papa between us. Yussuf followed the litter, jostling his way through the crowded street.
    At Tia Juana’s house, the bearers lowered the litter to the ground. We got out just as a trumpet fanfare sounded sharp and clear. The crowd parted to make way for a horseman clad in the white vestments and black cloak of a Dominican monk. I recognizedhim immediately. It was Fray Torquemada, the Inquisitor General, surrounded by his familiars. The Inquisition’s men wore black with the white cross of Saint Dominic stitched on their cloaks, their swords dangling at the sides of their black horses. As the Grand Inquisitor passed through the crowd, onlookers doffed their caps. The men bowed and the women curtsied as if to a king. Several people even crossed themselves.
    As Torquemada approached our little party, an urchin darted out of the crowd and startled his horse. The Grand Inquisitor’s great steed reared and pawed the air, but Torquemada held on. I jumped backward. He calmed the horse easily, and one of the familiars grabbed the bridle. Another of Torquemada’s men picked up the unfortunate boy by the scruff of his neck and dragged him away kicking and screaming. The child could not have been more than eight years of age. Not a sound of protest came from the crowd.
    Torquemada noticed us. “Don Enrique, I didn’t know that you were back in Toledo, that you had left the royal court.” His voice was thin and raspy.
    Papa swept off his hat, bowing with a flourish. “Greetings, your excellency! Their majesties were in great spirits and even better health, so I was able to come home to see my wife and daughter.”
    “This is your wife and daughter?” His voice was cold.
    Mama and I curtsied, but he didn’t address us. A shiver ran down my spine as his eyes swept over me.
    “I hope that your excellency is well,” Papa said.
    “Except for dropsy,” Torquemada replied in a petulant tone. “I suffer from it mightily.” He pulled in his reins. “I must bid you good-bye now, Don Enrique. The holy Inquisition needs my humble efforts.”
    Papa bowed again as Torquemada spurred his horse. The crowd buzzed with excitement.
    Mama clutched Papa’s arm. “He must know,” she said, “or he wouldn’t have singled you out. He isn’t famous for his social graces.”
    “Silence, Catarina!” Papa