"What are you doing up?" Victoria chided Diego as she came to bring him lunch, just as the caballero entered the room in which he was staying, only a few minutes after he had parted with her husband. "You are not well enough to move on your own yet!"

"I'm feeling much better, and I thought I might find something to read." He answered with a grin at seeing her. "This I took for you," he continued, offering Victoria a volume titled 'The Odyssey' by Homer, "and this is for Zafira", he continued, showing her a volume of 'Nuvelas Ejemplares' by Cervantes.

The young woman stared at the book he had offered her for a few seconds. "What is it about?"

"I don't remember really, but I thought you might like it… Perhaps you can read it and tell me." He answered before her amused glance rested on the volume he had chosen for himself: Machiavelli's 'El Principe'.

"'The Prince'? You know, once Zorro told me Machiavelli is De Soto's idol." The taverness told him with some amusement.

Diego stared at her closely. "Zorro…" He muttered pensively as the image of a masked man looking straight at him with a mischievous grin found its way out of oblivion.

"Oh…" she continued, "Zorro… He was someone very special. He defended the people of Los Angeles from the oppression of the alcaldes." Victoria felt the need to explain. "He died… 81 days ago."

"I'm sorry. He was important to you, wasn't he?" The caballero inquired, seeing the tears gathering in her eyes.

The young woman nodded. "He was the man I should have married." She answered. "The man I would have married, had he not been taken from me so soon."

"I see…" He simply replied, then accepted the plate she brought him and slowly sat down. "Do you want to tell me about him?" He asked.

Victoria stared at her friend, then nodded a few times as she allowed her tears to fall. Nearing Diego, she sat next to him as he started eating.

"He used to dress in black – a black silk shirt, black pants and boots, a mask covering the upper half of his face, a cape, and a black hat. He also had a black horse: Tornado."

"Tornado! That's it!" Diego muttered.

"What is?"

"The name of the boy's horse. I saw it in my dream last night. A teenager with a black horse… I just couldn't remember their names. Now I know one."

"Teenager? No. Zorro was a grown man! And Tornado is the most beautiful horse I have ever seen, and smarter than a few men I know." Victoria smiled at remembering Mendoza. "They made a great team, Zorro and Tornado. For ten years they fought for the people of Los Angeles, first against the tyranny of the Alcalde, the unjust punishments, taxes and all sorts of abuses Luis Ramone and his successor committed against the people."

"Luis Ramone…" Diego uttered as the image of a blonde man falling to his death flashed through his mind. "I think I remember him, as well. He had a vicious smile. But he's dead now."

"Yes…" She uttered. "You remember him?"

"A little. I don't believe I liked him much…" He answered and, as more memories invaded him, he squinted his eyes pensively. "I do remember him falling," Diego confessed as a feeling of guilt invaded him.

"You can't remember that! Only Zorro was there to see him fall…" She replied puzzled, as they stared at each other for a few moments. "It's probably just something your mind put together," she explained mostly to herself, before continuing. "As I was saying, at first Zorro only showed up to fight the Alcalde and his men. But then, I believe he started realizing that the lancers also needed some help to do their job since he also started fighting bandits and bringing them to justice… Simply handing them over to Luis Ramone, who always had his men shoot at him. Of course, they always missed. To be fair, I'm not even sure they were truly trying to hit him, since they usually disagreed with the Alcalde's orders, but were too cowardly to either say it or do anything about it. Among all the people in Los Angeles, Zorro alone had the guts to stand up for what was right and make sure justice prevailed."

"You admired him…" Diego concluded.

"Everybody admired Zorro." Victoria answered. "He seemed… invincible. As for me… I didn't just admire him. I loved him with all my heart, despite never knowing who he truly was." She confessed as she wiped away some tears. "When he died, half of me died with him."

Diego put down his plate and embraced her, allowing her to cry on his chest while he caressed her hair. Something about his embrace caused her to cry harder, her body shaking as he put his head on hers and they remained like that for a long time until she was finally able to calm down.

"Victoria, pardon me for asking, but why have you married Juan if the one you loved died so recently?" Diego asked as she slowly let go of him.

"Because I… Let's just say I had my reasons," the taverness replied, wiping away the tears on her cheeks in an effort to erase the traces of her temporary breakdown from her face. "Besides," she continued, "Juan proved to be a lot more like the man I love than I had ever imagined. He could have had me arrested when I told him that I would rather risk… that I couldn't just let you die. Instead of doing that, as others would have in his place, he came up with a plan to help me rescue you all, and abandoned everything he had worked for… his entire life, to be by my side when I needed him most. He's a better person than I had thought him to be." She recounted, then she stood up slightly embarrassed at seeing Zafira heading their way. "Thank you for the book, Diego! I'll see you later!" Victoria muttered before hurriedly greeting the other woman with a nod and a fake smile, leaving the two of them alone.

The caballero remained watching her head away until he could no longer see her, then turned his eyes towards the young woman who had just come to keep him company.

"I got you something from the library." He said as Zafira came to sit with him, giving her the book he had chosen.

"From the library?" She asked, accepting it. "You went to the house by yourself? Are you sure you should be walking already?"

"It was just a short walk, and quite profitable." He said, glancing first at the books, then at her.

She smiled and stared at the volume for a few seconds. "Diego, do you remember anything about us? I mean, by now you must remember something." Zafira wondered. "I told you all those stories…"

"I know… And I wish I did, but I don't." He answered apologetically. "I'm sorry! I'm certain those memories are somewhere inside my mind… I just don't know how to reach them…" He felt the need to explain.

"It's alright, Diego! You will remember, I am sure of that!" She answered kindly.

He nodded and smiled back at her, and, as he did so, she felt the need to kiss him. He was too tempting, sitting so innocently right next to her, and she had spent a very long time missing being in his arms.

Zafira gazed into his eyes and slowly closed the distance between them, as her lips parted tantalizingly. He neither opposed, nor made any move to meet her halfway, but accepted her kiss, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth as he closed his eyes, trying to remember the other kisses they had shared. For some reason, no memory returned to him, and he pulled away rather disappointed. As he opened his eyes, he turned towards the entrance to see Victoria there. The young woman, who had returned because she had decided she didn't feel comfortable with allowing Zafira to be alone with her friend, remained frozen at seeing them kiss. Then, as her eyes met Diego's, hurriedly turned and walked away.

Diego stood up and was about to leave after her.

"What's wrong?" Zafira asked as she tried to pull him back.

He hesitated, glancing between her and the now-empty corridor. He didn't say anything at first but his face was a perfect mirror of his internal conflict, even if he couldn't even explain it to himself. Victoria was a married woman, yet he still felt that by kissing the young widow he was being unfaithful to her.

"I don't know." He answered. "This just doesn't feel right. I'm sorry… but… it's not you…"

Zafira slowly gazed down as her eyes filled with tears. Moments later, she stood up and hurried out of the room. The caballero let her go, certain there was nothing he could do to comfort her and just remained there.

In truth, he realized, there was nothing he could do to make things right with either of them. His heart seemed determined to love a woman who belonged to another man, and he knew that pursuing her, while her husband was there, no matter the circumstances of their marriage, was utterly wrong. Zafira, on the other hand, was free and seemed to truly love him, a fact she had already confessed a few times. He could, perhaps, be happy with the young widow. Yet his heart stubbornly refused to take a chance on her.