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“We only just found her,” I cut in. Whit exhaled, an exasperated huff that sounded like the loud clamor of an alarm bell. Tío Ricardo stiffened, but at least his attention was onme.
“When I went deeper inside the temple, I felt the magic. It was overwhelming. I followed that magical pulse and Mr. Hayes had no choice but to assist me.”
“No choice,” my uncle said faintly.
I threw my hands wide. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“I don’t need you to defend me,” Whit drawled.
“That’s whatfriendsdo.”
Tío Ricardo fixed his attention solely on me. He inhaled so deeply, his shirt strained at the buttons. “Don’t ever go down into a tunnel or a tomb or a dark cavern without me, Inez. Understand?”
“Fine.”
“Whitford, will you go and bring Abdullah? Be discreet, please.”
I glanced at Whit as he left but he didn’t meet my eye. He disappearedup the hidden staircase, taking my candle. My uncle and I stood several feet apart, a small stretch of light dancing between us. There was only a handful of times in which we’d ever really been alone. Goosebumps flared up and down my arms. Not for the first time, I wondered how treacherous he really was.
But… he’d sounded relieved to see me.
“You found her,” he murmured.
“The magic from the golden ring did.” I shifted on my feet, glancing around the antechamber, half covered in gloom. The antechamber didn’t have the same amount of artifacts as the other, smaller room Whit had named the treasury, but there were still a fair number of priceless objects. Figurines and furniture, pots of honey, and jewelry boxes. The truth swept over me in a towering wave and I couldn’t breathe once the thought took hold.
My uncle eyed me shrewdly. “You’ve come to the same realization, then.”
My voice came out breathless. “Papá found this room before he… died. He must have, because Papá took something of Cleopatra’s from here and then mailed it to me.”
“The golden ring. Which is how you were able to find this place at all. He ought to have given it to me.”
Tension seeped in between us, poisoning the air. A whisper of fear pressed close. I was alone, underground, and without resources, facing a man I barely knew at all.
A soft thudding noise drifted down from the direction of the hidden stairs. More light married with ours, and Abdullah appeared, an excited smile on his face. He squeezed through the opening, followed by Whit, both of them holding slim torches.
Abdullah’s jaw dropped and tears gathered in his dark eyes. My uncle strode toward him and they embraced, laughing and chattering quickly in Arabic.
It disconcerted me, seeing my uncle fool his brother-in-law so completely. My uncle was a snake, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. He would double-cross Abdullah just like he did my poor parents.
Whit sidled up next to me. “Are you all right? I ran the whole way.”
I glanced at him, noticed how the tuft of hair that laid at an angle across his brow was damp with sweat. The tension I’d felt earlier lifted.
“You ran the whole way?” I murmured.
He shrugged. “It’s what a friend would do.”
Abdullah and Tío Ricardo explored the antechamber, marveling over every little thing. They touched nothing, and stood in stunned awe as they examined every detail, every carving, every statue. I itched for my sketchbook. I wanted to capture the paintings on the wall, wanted to draw all of the various objects strewn about the room. A part of me wanted to sit in the luxurious couch, but I followed Abdullah’s example. They were careful to keep their distance, not wanting to disturb anything.
“It’s been looted,” Abdullah said.
“Most certainly,” my uncle agreed.
I didn’t need to look in Whit’s direction to see his smug smile.
“Look at this,” my uncle exclaimed as he studied a stretch of the wall. We all gathered around him and peered up. It was an interesting scene depicting soldiers with weapons.
“The battle of Actium,” Whit said.
