Oliver didn’t think he had ever been so grateful to anyone.
When Ixchel helped him bind and gag the other stable worker-whom Oliver figured might also be the saddle maker-the man’s face was heavy with regret. Julianna and Oliver tried to use the tone of their voice to thank him, and Ixchel nodded his appreciation, but when the other man regained consciousness and glared at his former friend, there could be no consolation.
Perhaps three hours after they had first been discovered, Ixchel went out again. This time, he did not come back right away. Oliver and Julianna busied themselves feeding the horses, avoiding any conversation about what to do next. Eventually, they could put it off no longer.
“He’s been gone a while,” Julianna said.
She’d tied her hair back with a strip of cloth. The shirt Ixchel had gotten for her was too small and the pants too large, but Oliver thought she looked adorable.
They met in the middle of the stable. The smell of leather and hay filled their nostrils. Oliver took her hand and leaned over to kiss her.
“He’ll be back.”
“How do you know?” Julianna asked, forehead creased with worry. She had not feared many things in her life. It troubled him to see fear in her eyes now.
“Jules, you’ve got to let it go.”
Her gaze hardened and her nostrils flared. “Let what go?”
Oliver took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. “I’m not leaving you here. If you have to stay, then I stay. We’ll both survive it.”
A sad smile touched her lips and he knew that-though she would always remember the girl she had been-this moment they had built a wall between past and future.
“We start from right now?” she said.
Oliver nodded. “From right now. We get out of here. We go north and hook up with King Hunyadi somehow.”
“I like him.”
“I know you do. If this is our world, now, we’ll live in it together.”
Julianna squeezed his fingers in hers, and Oliver knew that his fiancee wasn’t the only one who had gone through a door that had closed forever behind her. The man he’d been, once upon a time, no longer existed. He would not grieve, though. For better or worse, he’d become who he had always been meant to be. His mother’s son. His father’s son. Himself.
A soft knock came at the stable door. They darted together into the stall they’d used as a shower, even as one of the front doors creaked open. Ixchel entered with another man-a thin, distinguished-looking fellow with silver and black hair. They spoke rapidly and Oliver had the distinct impression the other man was demanding to know why Ixchel had dragged him here.
Ixchel pointed toward their hiding place. “Bascombe,” he said.
Oliver stepped out of the stall, holding Julianna by the hand.
The newcomer stared at them in something like terror, and then his face slowly transformed into a smile.
“You,” the man said, in thickly accented English. “You are really him? You are Oliver Bascombe?”
“I am. And you?”
The man clapped Ixchel on the arm, then rushed forward to shake Oliver’s hand. “I am Lorenzo Baleeiro. Many call me Professor, because I have worked as a scholar and teacher.”
“Professor-” Oliver began.
“Lorenzo, please.”
“All right. Lorenzo,” he agreed, taking the man’s hand before gesturing to his fiancee. “And this is Julianna Whitney. We’re both very grateful to you for coming. I admit, we were a little anxious given how long Ixchel was gone.”
Lorenzo waved this away. “You have nothing to worry about for the moment, my friends. Like many of us, Ixchel believes in the Legend-Born. It is our honor to be able to give you whatever assistance we can provide.”
Oliver glanced at Julianna. She shivered, obviously as unnerved by this statement as he was.
“Look, Professor…Lorenzo,” he said, “I appreciate it. We both do. But I’m no savior, y’know? I’ve been on this side of the Veil for a while now and I know how much stories and legends mean, here. But I’ve also learned that every legend has a core of truth. Monsters and heroes all have their own true nature that sometimes doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the stories people tell about them.”
He ran a hand through his hair, enjoying the sensation of being truly clean for the first time in months, though his mind whirled as he tried to determine their next move.
“Truth is,” Oliver said, reaching out for Julianna’s hand, “we’re just people in trouble.”
Lorenzo smiled warmly. “You may feel ordinary, Senor Bascombe, but trust me, you are not. Unless you are not truly Legend-Born?”
Oliver fought the urge to hide from the truth. Instead, he met the professor’s gaze firmly. “I’m told my mother was a French legend, a Borderkind named Melisande. My sister and I are being hunted for that heritage. I’m not sure if we’re ever going to be able to bring the Lost Ones home the way the prophecy says, but there are some things that Collette and I can do, things we’ve discovered, so we know we’re not as normal as we always thought.”
The professor chuckled contentedly, nodding. “Excellent. We really have been waiting for you for ages. Belief in the Legend-Born is one of the few things that the Lost Ones in Euphrasia and Yucatazca have in common. Which leads me to the obvious question.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow.
Julianna stepped closer to the professor. “What might that be?”
“Why, what to do now, of course. You didn’t escape from the dungeon just to spend the rest of the war stashed in the hayloft of an old stable, did you?”
A grin split Julianna’s face. “I sure as hell hope not.”
“I thought not.”
Oliver hesitated to discuss their plans with anyone, yet he felt he could trust this man. “We thought we’d wait until nightfall and slip out of the city. I want to travel north and find King Hunyadi. Someone has to tell him that Atlantis is responsible for all this.”
The professor’s eyes went grave. “That has been the rumor. Do you confirm it, now? That Atlanteans are the cause of the war?”
Oliver nodded, and Ixchel started asking questions. Lorenzo quickly translated. As the two men spoke, Julianna moved closer to Oliver.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
Oliver fixed her with a glance. “Something. I’m doing something, Jules. Maybe for the first time in my life. My father-no matter how benevolent his motives-took this from me. And I’m taking it back.”
Julianna reached behind his head, fingers curling in his hair, and kissed him hard. When she broke away, both of them a bit breathless, she wore a small, suggestive grin.
“I guess you are. And y’know what? It’s kinda sexy.”
Oliver shook his head, smiling, and together they turned to face their newfound friends once more. Ixchel and the professor were talking rapidly now, hands gesturing too quickly to follow. They nodded to one another in agreement.
“Lorenzo.”
The professor looked up.
“We don’t want to interrupt, but we need to get out of here,” Julianna said. “And not just out of Palenque, but out of Yucatazca completely. We’d appreciate any help you could provide.”
Lorenzo looked stricken. Ixchel tapped the older man’s arm and asked a question in his native tongue. The professor ignored him, staring at Oliver.
“You cannot simply slip away in the dark, my friend. There is so much good you could do here, not only for Yucatazca, but for yourself. The Atlantean scum who have usurped our throne claim that you murdered King Mahacuhta. They deny the existence of the Legend-Born. They send us to war against Euphrasia. But already many do not believe the edicts that are issued from the palace in the name of Prince Tzajin. If you were to speak to the people-to stand and speak the truth-many in the city would believe you, and others would at least begin to doubt.”
“Wait, what about the prince? If they’re doing all this in his name, where is he?”