CAPÍTULO UNO
I kept Whitford Hayes waiting.
Twelve hours later, I still hadn’t made up my mind. It alarmed me how badly I wanted to say yes. If I’d learned anything from my time in Egypt, it was that I couldn’t trust my own judgment. A disappointing and terrifying realization. From now on, I’d have to be on my guard, no matter what my heart wanted. Besides, what would happen if I did marry him? Whit had made a promise to someone else, and while it hadn’t been his personal choice, he had given his word to another. He had insisted on keeping his distance, and we had agreed on a friendship, and nothing more. But then he’d kissed me when we thought we were dying, and so the scale tipped, and we lost our equilibrium.
Everything changed while we were locked up in a tomb.
Did his proposal mean he cared about me? Was he as deep in as I was?
I could have asked him, but then, wouldn’t he have made some kind of declaration when he proposed? A simple I adore you would have been much appreciated. Now that I thought of it, Whit hadn’t actually asked me the question. He’d said, Marry me instead, matter-of-factly. I’d been so rattled I hadn’t had the time to pick through my thoughts before he’d left the room. Instead, I teetered from terror and joy. All the good things I’d ever loved had been lost to me. The family I believed I had. Elvira. The discovering of Cleopatra’s tomb. All destroyed by one person.
What if Mamá somehow wrecked this, too?
I tugged on the scarf around my throat. My mother had given it to me to shrink dozens of artifacts from Cleopatra’s tomb, and for some reason, I had kept it when I probably ought to have burned it. This stretch of fabric was evidence of her betrayal. It felt like a chain, linking me to her. Maybe if I pulled on it hard enough, it’d somehow lead me to where she was hiding.
“Stop fidgeting with that scarf. Why are you dragging your feet?” Tío Ricardo asked, voice laced with impatience. “Whit will be waiting.”
I winced. Ah, yes, Whit’s perpetual state at the moment. “Él es paciente, Tío.”
“Ha! Whit? Patient? You don’t know him like I do,” my uncle scoffed. “All I’ve eaten is broth for the last few days, y me muero de hambre. I need a hearty meal, Inez, and if you say one word in disagreement, I will start yelling.”
I threw him a disgruntled look, even though he didn’t see it. He was categorically not dying of hunger—I personally made sure of it. I was not a violent person, but I silently contemplated throwing something at his head. Tío Ricardo, once again, refused to stay in bed. One would think I were suggesting he bite into a raw onion like an apple. Instead, he tugged me along as we made our way to Shepheard’s lavish dining room, one hand holding tight to my wrist. His other arm was bound up in a sling, which he periodically glared down at, resenting anything that might keep him from Philae. He also kept eyeing every person who passed us in the corridor with deep suspicion. When two gentlemen entered the hallway leading to the main stairs, my uncle forcibly moved me down another turn and waited for them to pass.
This time I didn’t try to hide my exasperation. “Just what do you think will happen to me on the third floor of the hotel?”
Tío Ricardo wasn’t looking at me but was focused on the retreating backs of the pair of gentlemen walking, presumably, to their room. “Have you seen them before?”
I yanked my arm free. “You ought to be resting and not casting judgment on unsuspecting tourists.”
My uncle finally angled his bearded face toward mine. He towered over me, smelling of citrus soap, and his clothes, for once, were pressed, his shoes wiped clean. Direct results of staying in the hotel for the past few days. “Have you learned nothing? Lourdes’s contacts could be anyone.”
“If she wanted to kill me, she had plenty of opportunity. But she didn’t,” I whispered. “I’m still her daughter. Her only child.”
“You have proof of how far she will go to protect her interests. Don’t depend on any maternal affection she might have for you.” The deep lines gathered at the corners of my uncle’s mouth smoothed away. He regarded me with soft eyes the exact same color as my own—hazel, which changed hue, depending on our mood. Pity lurked deep within them, and I couldn’t stand it. “Trouble follows wherever she goes. You of all people should know that.”
My lips parted as a memory raced into my mind. A quick flash, like the swipe of a knife against my skin.
Elvira screaming my name—calling for me as the trigger was pulled, the bullet streaking toward her. And a moment later, her blown-up face. Unrecognizable. Blood pooling under her head, staining the golden sand.
If I could, I would give up years of my life for that memory to be struck from my mind.
“I think it’s safe to go on down,” he said, and resumed holding on to me, half pulling me down the hall with his uninjured arm. “We have much to discuss.”
Ordinarily I would have made some retort, but his words had chilled me through. I could never forget who my mother was. Master manipulator and a shrewd strategist. A liar and a thief. A woman who could and did betray her daughter, who was hungry for power and would do anything to acquire wealth. Coldly ruthless as she sacrificed Elvira without remorse.
A woman lost in the wind.
Be on your guard, I told myself. We continued our trek to the dining room, but this time, I joined my uncle in his careful observation of our surroundings.
* * *
Hotel guests filled the dining room, sitting at round tables covered in snow-white tablecloths, while servers nimbly carried trays laden with silver teapots and porcelain cups. Whit sat across from me, dressed in a blue button-down tucked into his standard khaki trousers. His brawny frame filled up the dainty seat, broad shoulders overtaking the back of the chair’s width. I didn’t need to look under the table to know that he wore his favorite leather boots, laced up to midcalf. He poured his second cup of coffee, and I knew he’d forgo sugar or cream, preferring to drink it black.
I tore my gaze away, conscious of my uncle sitting not two feet from me, and lifted my teacup to hide my burning cheeks. The liquid was hot on my tongue, but I swallowed it down to buy myself time. I felt the weight of my uncle’s gaze, silently assessing and watchful. The absolute last thing I wanted was to give myself away.
My uncle would not appreciate the depth of my feelings for Whit.
“We’ll depart in a few days,” Tío Ricardo said to him.
“Not what the doctor ordered, I’m afraid,” Whit said calmly. “He instructed you to keep off your feet for another day or two and warned of too much activity at once. Certainly no traveling long distances. Too much jostling and the like.”
My uncle let out a muted snarl. “Philae is hardly a long distance.”
Copyright © 2024 by Isabel Ibañez
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