He ushered her past the Governor's Secretary and to the outdoor passage before replying. "Don Diego. He was with them, although Correna's widow keeps insisting he was only there because one of their men had mistakenly shot at him. He's not shot, however... Apparently he fell and hit his head. I had no choice but to bring him in, and, since he seems unresponsive, I can't even ask for his side of the story. Not that it would make any difference." Juan looked around him and, certain he couldn't be overheard, he continued, this time whispering in her ear, "I've arranged for the doctor to administer him a quick-acting poison in the morning. He'll be dead in minutes. It's a big risk, but the right thing to do. Kinder and more dignified than a public hanging."

"Diego survived pneumonia to die in a prison cell, and you believe that a kindness?" She asked in disbelief. "No!" Victoria shook her head, considering her next actions. "I need to go to him!"

"There's nothing you can do. Besides, as I told you earlier, the prisoners are not allowed to receive visitors. Orders of the Governor." Juan answered as he dragged her towards his apartment in the garrison.

Victoria stopped and jerked herself free from his grip. Giving him a venomous look, she turned away and headed straight for the prison.

"You can't pass, Señora!" One of the guards stopped her using his musket to prevent her from getting inside.

Victoria stared defiantly at him. "Diego!" She shouted. "Diego, can you hear me?"

"That's enough!" Juan, who had followed her, stated as he put a hand around her waist and lifted her in the air. Another hand on her mouth, doing his best to prevent her protests, he carried her to his apartment, unaware that they were being watched by the Governor.

The official squinted his eyes pensively at noticing the young woman's actions and her husband's reaction. After a few moments' consideration, he called a lancer to his office and instructed him to spy on his Lieutenant and his wife then inform him about anything important he might see or overhear.

Only when they were alone, the door closed behind them, the young Lieutenant let go of Victoria.

"What do you think you're doing, Juan?" She asked, pure ire in her words.

"Protecting you! You are my wife, and I do love you, even if you don't feel the same about me. There is nothing you can do for Don Diego. What you can do… What you must do, is behave as a good wife should – avoiding any action that might compromise her husband – and make sure nothing happens to your baby."

At that reminder about the child growing inside of her, Victoria's temper subsided, and she stopped protesting.

Instead, she sat down quietly, pondering the situation for a few minutes.

"How could you do it? How could you arrest Diego? He was here a couple of days back… You know he's not a rebel." She addressed Juan, refusing to look at him.

"I don't know anything right now." He answered resentfully. "Victoria… I had no choice. He was unconscious, and we were under orders to bring everyone, even the bodies, back to Monterey." He continued, doing his best to calm down. "The Governor wants to use them to make sure nobody challenges his power over California. Considering the news from the south, he believes it's the only way to avoid losing this territory."

"And he couldn't care less how many innocents suffer as long as he gets to keep his power!" The taverness replied. "Juan… The man I loved always made sure to prevent the alcaldes from executing innocents… Los Angeles has been lucky to have him. Yet, other pueblos, other Spanish territories, have not been as lucky.

"Others have suffered, died of hunger or at the hands of those who should protect them. If they dared defend themselves or protest about the way they were abused, they were murdered or imprisoned as rebels. My father died in La Fortaleza del Diablo because he tried to avenge the death of my mother.

"And I heard stories about the executions in the south. My brothers have written to me about what the Royal Army has done in Quito, Caracas and elsewhere in its efforts to stop the rebels. Many were executed there without a trial, only for fighting for what they believed in. No wonder both Francisco and Ramon joined Bolivar's troops." She uttered resentfully. "Now you want me –"

"Enough! I want you safe, so never repeat any of that again, Victoria! You are the wife of one of the King's soldiers!" Juan told her. "If the Governor comes to know that you are not only the daughter of rebels, but also the former lover of the most infamous outlaw in California, and the sister of two traitors, I will be powerless to protect you and your child. Please understand!"

Upset, unable to think straight, Juan hesitated about what to do, but eventually turned on his heels, and exited the apartment, locking the door after him. As he headed for the tavern, a lancer came from behind his quarters and hurried towards the Governor's office.

ZZZ

"I'm so sorry, Diego! Had the men not brought you to our camp, your life would not be forfeited, just as our lives are now." Zafira told the young don when he opened his eyes at some point, then closed them again without much sign he had understood her.

The next time he opened his eyes was when someone, a woman, had called his name from the door.

Zafira stood up and neared the bars, wondering if it was someone who had come to help, someone who could, at least, save him.

Only muffled noises were heard after that, so, some minutes later, after checking on the other wounded men, she returned to him.

She knew that her last and only chance to save him would be the following day before she died. Then, she could shout out her truth before they'd hang her, and maybe, just maybe, he would be spared. Unless he was to hang before her. That thought caused a few tears to spring from the young woman's eyes, as she looked at the caballero, then suddenly remembered her dead husband.

Zafira hadn't yet cried for Joaquin. The man she had married had been already buried in a common grave that afternoon, together with the rest of his men who had perished the same night as him. The padre was not even allowed to say a prayer for their souls; nor was she allowed to say goodbye.

But what was the point in crying for any of them and their fate when she'd soon join them in the afterlife? Besides, she had grown used to her husband, and considered his men as close friends, but it was still Diego she loved, still him the one she thought of every time the man she had married touched her.

"If only we had one more chance!" She uttered out loud as she caressed his hair, then placed a kiss on his forehead.