Page 35 of The Lost Guardian

“He is!” Santiago repeated, desperately intrigued that she knew this.

“You were right to bring us here,” Ali said. The compliment swept over him like a warm breeze. “I’m looking forward to this.”

Santiago didn’t care if she was still putting on airs to impress him. It was enough to share this excitement with someone.

He returned her smile.

“Let’s go find him.” Santiago strode down the hall.

Dr. Fernandez’s office wasn’t hard to find. The hallway eventually opened into a large oval area, an office on the left, the entrance to a small exhibit on the right. Santiago longed to explore it but knew that now wasn’t the moment.

The office door was wide open, welcoming them into an ample room with an adjoining suite just out of view. Above a leather couch, fanned out behind a protective layer of museum glass, was the most beautiful quipu Santiago had ever seen.

He raced toward it. The intricately knotted string was splayed out to showcase every strand and color. It was so remarkably well-preserved that Santiago would have guessed it to be a replica, if they weren’t currently standing in the office of an archeologist famous enough to have an entire wing named after him.

Santiago itched to explore the rest of the room in depth, to take a look at the other displays, but a bustle in the adjoining suite had them venturing farther in.

“Dr. Fernandez?” Santiago called out as they stepped inside a room that smelled of leather-bound books.

There, leaning over a wide wooden table, was a man in his mid-forties, with a pad of paper in one hand and a pencil clenched between his teeth. His skin was a bronzed brown, dark eyes intense and focused under thick swathes of equally dark brows. His mustache and beard were cropped short, highlighting his sharp jawline and cheekbones.

This was certainly not the small, distinguished older man Santiago had envisioned. It dawned on him that the young student hadn’t blushed at Ali’s attention but at the mention of the professor. José Fernandez was handsome.

“Professor Fernandez?” Ali asked, stepping inside the room.

The professor jerked his head up suddenly, as if they had interrupted his concentration. Then he grinned broadly, removing the pencil from his mouth.

“Hola!” he said in a deep, friendly voice. He crossed to them and kissed Ali warmly on the cheek.

She didn’t look particularly bothered by the gesture, though Santi wouldn’t have dared. He recalled her eagerness from a few moments ago, and his own pleasure over it soured a little.

He shook Santiago’s hand heartily, and the motion made the professor’s biceps bulge underneath his cream-colored shirt. Ali tracked the movement with her eyes.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Santiago groaned inwardly.

He knew it wasn’t fair. He had no claim on this fascinating, intimidating woman he’d met only hours before. His stomach warmed with jealousy anyway.

“You are not my students,” Fernandez said, motioning them to move more comfortably into the room. “And you are from America!”

“How did you know that?” Santiago asked, suspicious now.

Dr. Fernandez pointed at the large luggage tag that was stuck on his pack. The lax was printed boldly in black.

Oh.

“How may I help you?” the professor asked, leaning back against his table.

Ali looked at Santiago, who swallowed hard.

“My name is Santiago Rios,” he said. “And I am here to collect my grandfather.”

11

“Santiago!” Dr. Fernandez exclaimed, leaping forward and enveloping him in an enormous hug. “I cannot believe this. Little Santi!”

Santiago winced as the professor’s hands clasped over his clammy back, but the professor either didn’t notice or was too polite to show it. He motioned to his side when Santi was released.

“This is my…” He faltered for a moment. “Um. This is Ali.”