TWENTY-NINE
A night and a day and half the next night it took before Molina finished spinning, as the strange man turned her work from linen to gold. She must have fallen asleep on the spinning wheel, for her back ached from sitting on the stool before it for so long.
The door swung open – the sound of it unbolting must have woken her. The guard captain had returned.
"Get her up. The king wants her moved. Bring the table, too."
"And the stool, sir?"
"All of it."
Molina wished it were a dream, but as two guardsmen took her aching arms, she knew this was worse than any nightmare.
They marched her out of the castle and down the cobbled streets to where she could hear the rushing water of the river. Did they mean to throw her in?
Two men unbarred a massive set of doors, large enough
