Author's note

English is not my mother tongue, so mistakes may happen, despite the efforts of my translator friends. Heartfelt thanks, Cris, for any comment, idea or suggestion! And for the translation, of course!

In the previous part:

An unexpected visit from de Soto's old acquaintance, Captain Monsangre, has tragic consequences for Victoria. Wronged, humiliated, and surrounded by widespread resentment thanks to slander alcalde, she sees no place for herself in Los Angeles or in life.

Diego as Zorro manages to stop her from taking the final step, and in order to save the woman he loves, he gives up his secret, at least to her and his father.

Together, they return to Los Angeles, face the accusations of de Soto and the captain. They are able to believe in a future together and get married. However, memorable in his hatred, de Soto forces Diego to duel and when they cross swords, young de la Vega kills his opponent...

Now it is he who must face the consequences of his actions. And he's not the only one...

Prologue. Anxiety

Ignacio de Soto opened his eye.

He smiled. A lazy smile full of bad satisfaction. The other eye socket was filled with blood. A narrow trickle ran down his temple, staining the sideburns and soaking into the dust of the square.

The sword in his eye swayed as the alcalde rose from the ground.

"You'll hang with your whore, Zorro," he said, and yanked the blade out.

It came out with a disgusting crunch.

"Aaaah!"

Diego sat up abruptly, gasping for air like a fish pulled out of water. He immediately cringed, because he felt that he would regret the dinner he had eaten in a moment. He forced himself to take a slower, deeper breath, soothing his rebellious stomach and pounding heart.

He didn't know what was more upsetting him. The words of a dead alcalde or the sound of the sword leaving his body. He bent again, covering his mouth and gritting his teeth as the mere thought of him made him feel sick again.

Victoria at his side muttered something in her sleep and blindly stretched out her hand. He stroked her hand before she realized his pillow was empty.

"It's alright. Just sleep, mi querida," hewhispered.

She took a deep breath, shook her head, but didn't wake up. Apparently his assurance was enough.

Diego himself sat down on the edge of the bed and, with a heavy sigh, he rested his forehead on his hands. It was another night interrupted by the memory of the duel. Ignacio de Soto might have been just a name on a cross in the cemetery, but the dead alcalde was tormenting him now more than ever. The fear for Victoria and the memory of that evening in the hills had all but completely faded away. Now it was the face of the stubborn alcalde to hunt his dreams.

The young de la Vega got up slowly and went to the window. The sky was graying, and the first birds were singing in the distance. Soon, Maria would light a fire in the kitchen and the hacienda courtyards would be filled with the voices of vaqueros. As another day was beginning, he had no idea how to free himself from the nightmares that now haunted him. Especially since one more thing was bothering him. He hadn't felt bad, for even one moment, about Ignacio de Soto's death.

XXX

One of the few Monterey taverns was built on a hillside, so its windows overlooked the shaded roofs of the houses and the bay beyond. It was still some time before the rising sun illuminated the buildings, and the calm surface of the water disappeared under the veil of mist, but a few clouds in the sky had already turned pink.

The two men in the room, however, were not watching the views outside, devoting all their attention to the contents of the dishes placed on the table. Steam still floated over the jug and several bowls.

"It's good that we're leaving, because the cook will curse us till the seventh generation"- muttered, at last, a fair-haired man in a wrongly buttoned ruffled shirt and military trousers. A uniform jacket with a lieutenant's insignia hung on the back of his chair.

His companion, a dark-haired man whose wavy locks reached his shoulders blinked as if the words woke him up from his reverie, then pushed his plate away. Unlike the sloppy soldier, he wore civilian clothes, and, despite the early hour, he was dressed much more carefully. Under the jacket, one could see an elegant vest, and the tie was tied in accordance with the latest fashion.

"I don't care about his love of sleep for the moment," he replied dryly. "Though thank you for not letting me leave without breakfast, Julian."

"That's what I'm your deputy for. To take care of such details." The fair-haired Julian also finished his meal.

"Are the men ready?"

"We'll start an hour after your stagecoach." Julian picked up a slice of bread, then put it back. "Gilberto..."

"Yes?" The man called Gilberto was just getting up from the table, but stopped in mid-movement.

"Is it all necessary?" The fair-haired man asked. "This alcalde is to be imprisoned anyway, and he'll be stewing a little in the cell before you start interrogation. You don't have to risk..."

"Are you playing mother hen?" Gilberto smiled slightly.

The lieutenant grinned a mirthless grin.

"As if you needed it!" He snorted. "But I don't like what we heard about that pueblo. I don't like how quickly the alcalde passes thedeath sentences there, nor all we learned about that outlaw defender of theirs, Zorro."

"That's why I want to be there first." Gilberto went to the window and stared at the still dormant town. "I'm not risking anything," he said after a moment. "I want to get there before you and meet them all before they find themselves at the wrong end of our boys' muskets," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "I want to see if he is respected or not. Whether he has many friends or enemies. What his everyday life is like..."

"What if he recognizes you?" Julian doubted.

"He never saw me." Gilberto Risendo, an army colonel and the king's special envoy, raised his hand, spreading his fingers wide. "He didn't see me," he repeated, "he doesn't know me, and I won't throw my name in his face." He turned to his friend. "At least, not until I have everything under control." He clenched his hand slowly into a fist, as if he was closing something in it that was visible only to himself. "And then... Then I'll talk to Colonel de la Vega."

TBC