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Mr. Hayes sobered immediately, eyes dropping to Tío Ricardo’s hand. My hunch had been right. The ring was important, it might have even belonged to Cleopatra herself. And instead of giving it to Tío Ricardo, Papá had sent it on to me.
Without either of them knowing.
Mr. Hayes kicked at my uncle’s chair and Tío Ricardo blinked and shook his head, as if slowly waking from a dream. He loosened his hold. I wanted to pull free, but I remained motionless, wondering at the best course to take. I didn’t want to dishonor Papá, but how could I expect my uncle to be honest, when I wouldn’t be?
“Did your father show you a drawing of this ring while he was in Argentina?” Mr. Hayes asked after another beat of silence, his attention still on my uncle’s hand.
I lifted my chin and made my decision. “Months ago, Papá sent me a package. Inside was a single item.” I tapped my finger against the cloth napkin. “This golden ring.”
Neither betrayed anything on their faces, waiting for me to say more.
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” I took a deep breath and continued with my story. “My aunt had mentioned something about Cleopatra, back when I still thought my parents were alive. She implied that you were looking for her, Tío. Upon arriving in Egypt, I have since learned this ring had something to do with the Queen of the Nile herself.” I raised my brows expectantly. “Well?”
“Where is the ring?” Tío Ricardo asked. He released me and leaned back in his chair.
I wouldn’t answer, not until he gave me more information. “Have you found Cleopatra’s tomb?”
My uncle rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Artifacts are strewn all over several excavation sites. Tomb robbers have done everyone a disservice by spreading around theirtreasures,” he spat the word, “in various markets. Ipersonallyhave found items belonging to a myriad of noble families outside of their final resting place.” From here, my uncle’s voice rose to a near shout. “Your father never ought to have sent it out of Egypt, much less relied on the postal service. What would have happened if the mail had been lost at sea?”
It was a good question, and Papá’s behavior was so uncharacteristic as to be baffling. I could only conclude that he believed to have a very good reason.
“But it didn’t,” I said quickly. “Where do you think he found the ring?”
“It could have been anywhere. In another tomb, buried under a pot. He might have bought the damned thing at Khan el-Khalili, for all we know,” he said vaguely. “Lord knows stolen artifacts turn up at the bazaarall the time.”
My pulse thrummed in my throat. If he bought the ring at the bazaar, there might be a record of it. Someone might have seen Papá, might remember him.
“But enough questions,” Tío Ricardo continued. “Cayo ought to have given it to me, and if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to hand it over. It could be a clue.”
“A clue?” I repeated as I sat a little higher in my plush, high-backed chair. “How?”
“You are not a part of the team, querida,” Tío Ricardo reminded me.
“I could be if you allowed it,” I argued. “I’ve studied the books my parents gave me. I have passable knowledge of some Egyptian history and I’m familiar with hieroglyphs. The heat doesn’t bother me, nor does sand or getting dirty. I made it all the way here on my own—”
“While I’m incredibly proud of your achievements,” my uncle began, “my answer is still the same. I need you to trust me on this, Inez.”
“But—”
“I grow tired of this,” he cut in. “Give me the ring.”
I tried not to show my frustration. Any emotion from me might telegraph hysteria or something equally ridiculous. “Well, I, too, grow tired, Tío. I have so many questions. Why were my parents out in the desert? Where wereyouwhen they needed you? Why did my father send the ring to me? And I want to know why it’s a clue in finding her tomb. I’ll keep asking until I have all the information I need.”
Tío Ricardo rubbed his eyes. “Now isn’t the time.”
“Do you know the old tales about magic?”
My uncle’s eyes snapped open. “Whitford.”
“Certainly,” I said quickly. “From my father.”
“Magic has been slowly disappearing everywhere,” Mr. Hayes said. “And here in Egypt, the remnants of magical energy manifested in curiousweather patterns—famines, desert storms, and so on—but we have also found that some items, pot shards and the odd sandal, also have the hallmarks of old-world magic. What was incredibly interesting was that the magicfeltthe same between various things found in the same location.”
“I’m following you,” I said. “You’re hinting that Cleopatra’s ring is touched by old magic, and I agree with you. From the beginning I felt an odd tingle, or pulse, any time I wore it. Itastedit in my mouth.” Mr. Hayes’s brows rose a fraction. I waited for him to speak, but he remained quietly thoughtful. I pressed on, deciding not to mention that I had also been seeing some of her memories. They felt like… diary entries. A window into her soul that was too private to say aloud. “I still don’t understand how’s it’s a clue on finding her tomb, though.”
“The magic clinging to the ring can lead us to other items with the exact same kind of enchantment from when it was originally performed. Objects that have the same spell call to one another. That’s why it’s a clue,” Mr. Hayes said. “As to why your father sent it to you, I don’t know.”
“You have your answers,” Tío Ricardo said. “I want that ring.”
