"Would you like a mask to go with that quote, Querida?"
"If the shoe fits…"
"It's made for your face not your foot," Diego said with a smile. "And it doesn't fit."
"No, it doesn't."
Diego began to brush down the stallion.
"Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the day?"
"Mmmm?"
"Shall I fetch water for Toronado, perhaps?"
"His trough is automatically filled by the spring," Diego murmured.
Sitting at the desk, Victoria fiddled with the quill pen in the ink. "I remember sitting here. My ankle was killing me, and your tea was intoxicating me."