“It is troubling that there should be yet another attempt on your life. Have you any intelligence you can lend on the matter?”

I am confused. A second attempt? I turn to Santiago, but he doesn’t look my way. I do, however, see that tic in his jaw he gets when he’s annoyed.

“With all due respect, I don’t believe this is the proper forum to discuss that other, separate matter, Councilor.”

“Very well,” The Councilor says, his irritation seeming to match Santiago’s. “Then I adjourn this session. Mrs. De La Rosa, The Tribunal wishes you a healthy pregnancy. Let us hope you deliver a strong, healthy male heir to carry the De La Rosa line.”

I nod, feeling heat flush my face.

“You are free to go.”

“Thank you,” I say, but it’s drowned out by the sound of the gavel striking the block.

We remain where we are while the three robed men leave the room. The double doors are then opened, and Santiago leads me out, collecting our coats along the way.

I feel a physical sense of relief as we descend the stairs but find myself shuddering once more when a light coming on out in the courtyard catches my eye. I glance out the window to see the scaffold has been lit, and several people have gathered.

My throat goes dry, and I pause. “What’s going to happen?” I ask, going to the window.

“Nothing you need to see,” Santiago says, taking my hand and walking me the rest of the way down the stairs and back out to our car. He helps me into the passenger side, and this time, I can appreciate it.

“What is this car?” I ask when he gets in.

“It's an Aston Martin.” He pulls out of IVI, and I see the gates close in the side mirror.

“Can we drive around a little? I don’t want to go home yet. Just have some fun maybe.”

“Fun?” he asks, almost confused by the word.

I reach over and put my hand on his thigh. “Fun. It means doing something you enjoy.”

“I enjoy many things I wouldn’t call fun.”

I sigh, the relief still a palpable thing. “Please?”

He glances at me, then back to the road and nods slowly exactly once.

“Yay! You think I could drive?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

When we get home late that night, Antonia has an elaborate dinner prepared for us. We sit down to eat, the candles feeling more romantic tonight than before. But as I sip on my half-glass of wine, which he allowed since we know I’m not pregnant, and after The Tribunal, well, I earned it, my mind wanders to our lie. To a few nights ago. To the baby and the reasons for having one.