Page 59 of The Lost Guardian

Santiago grinned, imagining the scene.

“But still, Atahualpa did not respond, only invited them to make themselves welcome in the valley and that he would venture down to properly greet them the next day. When De Soto returned to Pizarro with the news, the Spanish commandeered a ceremonial building that was tall enough to use as a lookout. They stashed all their men, weapons, and horses there to lay siege to Atahualpa and his city the next day.”

“Rios!” Ali said, stopping Santiago with a hand over his arm. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy the history lesson, but in case you’ve forgotten, we’re here for a reason.”

She motioned with her chin toward the door behind him. He glanced up to see the words “Cuarto de Rescate” written in stone above their heads.

The Ransom Room. They had made it.

“About time.” A rich and familiar voice drifted from the shade beside the entrance.

Professor José Fernandez leaned against the stone wall, one ankle crossed over the other. Dust clung to his boots, but somehow the rest of him looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a magazine. The rumpled Santiago would have been irritated if he weren’t so relieved.

“You’re here!” Santiago said, heading toward him. “You figured out the riddle.”

“You doubted me?” José teased, clasping Santi on the back. “Dare I ask about my bike?” he said to Ali before leaning forward to embrace her. Her expression softened.

“It’s safe,” she said. “Handles like a dream.”

José laid a hand over his heart. “Gracias. She is the great love of my life.”

Ali’s lips quirked. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“I was just telling Ali about Pizarro and Atahualpa,” Santiago said, trying to steer the conversation away from the professor’s love life.

“I know,” José answered with a bright grin. “I could hear the lecture from here.”

Santiago shoved his hands in his pockets. “I may have gotten carried away.”

“Occupational hazard.” José grinned, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Never apologize for loving history, my friend. It is one of the ways we honor those who have come before us.”

“Speaking of history,” Ali said, motioning to the building. “Shall we?”

The air cooled as they stepped inside, surrounded by stone and brick. Santiago caught a glimpse of the structure they’d come to visit behind some glass doors, but before he could get any closer, a loud gasp stopped him in his tracks.

He froze, heart jumping to his throat.

What now?

“José!” the woman at the front desk squealed, launching herself from her chair to wrap her arms around him.

“Bianca!” José replied, kissing her on each cheek and then both hands for good measure. “Mi amor, it’s been too long.”

“You didn’t say you were coming,” she scolded him, cheeks very pink. “Is this a university trip?”

“No, belleza, just showing my friend from America around our beautiful country.”

Ali fished out her wallet to pay their entrance fee, but the woman waved her away.

“Friends of José do not pay here.”

As she and José thanked her, Santiago’s attention was drawn to several large paintings on the walls, and he drifted closer.

The first one on the left depicted Atahualpa’s death, a grim and bloody reminder of Pizarro’s betrayal. Santiago didn’t linger on it.

The most interesting mural, he thought, depicted Atahualpa in the Ransom Room, holding his right hand up to a line marked above him on the wall. This was the most popular ransom legend. That when captured, it was Atahualpa, himself, who promised the Spanish gold and twice as much silver, filling the room to the highest spot he could reach.

Santiago didn’t hear Ali’s approach until she was directly behind him.