“You faced him down like a seasoned warrior," he [Hector] says. "Only because I had your daggers at my back.”

“No, no." I motion vaguely. "Relax. Don't look so... guardlike." They drop formation at once, glancing at one another shamefaced. Hector draped an arm around my shoulder as if we were out for a companionable stroll. He leans down and says, "So. Horrible heat we've been having lately.”

“I knew someday you would realize your worth. Your worthiness.'I shake my head. 'Oh Ximena, he was right to choose me but not becuase of my worth...You, Cosme, Hector...were already willing to be heroes. But I would have done nothing, become nothing, were it not for this thing inside me. So you see, God picked me becuase I was unworthy.”

“I need to marry Hector”

“The fifth place is for Hector.”

“If I were an enemy, and I started bearing down on you like this," he draws his sword, stretches the tip towards me, takes a single step in my direction, "what would you do?" Possibilities race through my head. Should I look for a weapon? Dodge and come up behind his guard? Trip him? Insult his mother?”

“You made me cut and dye my hair.”Surely he understands that we face greater problems? “I thought it would greatly improve your looks,” I snap.“Shorn hair is a sign of shame. You humiliate me greatly.”“I’ll light a candle tonight in honor of your dead tresses.”