Page 31 of The Lost Guardian

“These are ours,” Ali replied, pointing to the two in first class next to her.

Santiago’s jaw dropped.

“These?” he repeated, looking at the wide padded seats with plenty of leg room.

“These,” Ali confirmed, placing her carry-on in the overhead bin. When she reached up, the top of her set exposed a sliver of midriff. The deep-purple fabric perfectly offset her warm skin tone, and in that moment, Santiago was sure that purple would forever be his favorite color.

Santiago peeled his backpack off as quickly as possible, arms getting twisted in the straps. Then Ali’s hands were on him, helping to disentangle him. His skin burned in every place she touched him, and he sat down quickly, mortified.

Only to stand again, fishing out the plastic-wrapped package he had sat on.

“A pillow and blanket,” Ali explained, moving hers out of the way before sitting. “Complimentary.”

“Oh,” Santiago answered, feeling silly. “Do you travel first class often?”

“Only on someone else’s dime,” she said.

“Whose dime is this on?” he asked, and for the first time since he had met her, Ali looked caught off guard.

“Your grandfather made arrangements,” she finally answered, eyes averted.

She needn’t feel guilty. He didn’t know his grandfather had any money to begin with. Whatever arrangements Ali and his abuelo had made before his passing had nothing to do with him.

Before he could figure out a way to assure her that he wasn’t upset she had spent his inheritance on luxurious seating, a flood of people poured onto the plane. Santiago tensed with every new face, but no one paid them much attention. In fact, other than a few longing looks at their seats—and a few equally longing looks at Ali—most of the passengers ignored them completely.

By the time the plane began taxiing, a light sweat had formed around his hairline and on the small of his back.

“Rios,” Ali said quietly, “is this your first time on an airplane?”

It wasn’t. And he meant to say that, he really did. But then the plane picked up speed and all Santiago could do was grip the armrests and press against the back of his chair.

The engines thundered, pounding in time with the blood in Santiago’s ears. It didn’t matter how many popular science articles he read about the physics of flight—hurtling a fifty-ton tin can full of humans through the sky would never feel safe to him.

He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, g-force pushing him into his seat. When the plane lifted, Santi sucked in a gasping breath.

“It’s all right,” he heard Ali say, but over the roar of the engines, she sounded very far away. “You’re perfectly safe. Try to take your mind off it.”

He nodded silently but had no idea how he was supposed to do that.

“You said you’ve never been to Peru,” she continued, referencing part of an earlier conversation. “I find that hard to understand. Your family is from there. And with your expertise…how is that possible?”

Santiago’s grip loosened slightly, and his next breath was more controlled.

“I always wanted to go when I was young,” he answered, his voice sounding thin to his ears. “My parents promised we’d visit eventually, but it never happened. I guess now I know why.”

His papi hadn’t wanted him anywhere near the Guardianes. What did it mean that he was going now?

“Then I thought I’d have the opportunity in grad school and was even invited as an assistant to one of my professors’ digs in the Andes.”

His voice sounded thin to his ears.

“But,” he continued, “the school cut funding and it was a tough time for my family. My father had just lost his job, and I didn’t want to even suggest adding more financial burden on them.”

The plane leveled off, and the pressure eased, like removing a weighted blanket. He opened his eyes, blinking away the darkness at the edges of his vision.

“Then I decided to go by myself, as a celebration trip before starting my doctorate,” he added, breathing out a small sigh of relief. “But before I could go, my father had his accident, and, well. The trip didn’t happen.”

“I’m sorry,” Ali said. It was what most people said when Santiago told them about his father. He knew it was a platitude, however well-meaning. But Ali sounded sincere, and that meant something to him.