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This was happening too quickly, and panic reared its head. I wanted to speak louder, to somehow sway my uncle. “But Tío—”
My uncle shifted his attention to Mr. Hayes. “In fact, you can keep watch.”
Mr. Hayes’s face darkened. “Christ.”
“If you would just listen—” I began, desperate.
My uncle held up his hand. “I think you’ve done quite enough, Inez. Don’t you? Thanks to you, a priceless artifact is in the hands of the worst sort of human. It’s time for bed. Your maid will wake you in the morning to help you dress and pack.”
“I don’t have a maid.”
“It will be no trouble to provide you with one.”
Mr. Hayes stood and strode past me without a look in my direction and exited the room without a word. Only my uncle and I remained.
“So this is goodbye, then.” I took a step toward him. “If you would just—”
My uncle swooped down and kissed my cheek, and then the other. I stared after him, stunned, as he marched to the door, his long-legged stride eating the ground with every step.
“Tío—”
“Safe journey, querida sobrina,” he said over his shoulder before shutting the door with a measured click. I stared at it stupidly, convinced my uncle would return a second later. The quiet in the room might have been as loud as cannon fire. A minute ticked by.
I splayed my hands, flabbergasted and annoyed. “What justhappened?”
But of course, there was no one to answer me.
CAPÍTULO SIETE
Dawn came outfitted in rosy streaks of light, the thick gauze of the mosquito net enshrouding my bed. Dimly, I heard the last sounds of the Fajr prayer drift into my bedroom from the open balcony. I lay buried under a thick coverlet. Escaping the netting proved to be quite an exercise in patience; it took me several tries to wrench myself free. At last, I was able to untangle myself, veering toward my luggage. I rummaged through several walking dresses to find my favorite cotton robe. Slipping into it, I made my way to the balcony.
Stately green palms stretched out before me, their wispy leaves riding the breeze. The garden looked like a fairy tale against the golden morning light, far-reaching and filled with amber dates and crows fluttering from tree to tree. Beyond, a thousand minarets decorated the old Cairo skyline, beautiful and ornate. And farther still, the great pyramids in the hazy distance. This sight, more than anything else, reminded me I was far from the home I knew. Looking out into the city, I made my plan for the day.
Despite what Tío Ricardo thought or wanted, I would absolutely not be staying inside this room for the whole of the day. I stood in a foreign country, quite alone, and incredibly proud I’d made it this far. If I only had one more day in Egypt, then I was going to make the most of it and find out whatever I could. Thanks to my uncle, I knew where to start. Last night during dinner, he had given me a clue: Khan el-Khalili.
It wasn’t much of one, but it was something. If I could locate the shop, I could perhaps have a conversation with the seller, maybe even the owner, and ask them about Papá. Maybe they had more artifacts that belongedto Cleopatra, or at least objects that might have been touched by the same magic as the golden ring. And thanks to Mamá, I knew about the legendary bazaar. A frequent destination for tourists looking to do a bit of shopping.
My mind settled now that I had something to do.
I only had one problem.
The insufferable Mr. Hayes.
I’d have to figure out how to evade his notice to sneak out of the hotel. To pull off something like that would take planning. Time I didn’t have.
A soft rap disrupted the still quiet of the early morning. I looked over my shoulder, frowning. I pulled my robe tight across my long nightgown as I walked through the sitting area of the suite and opened the door, revealing Mr. Hayes and a young woman. The former leaned against the opposite wall, in a position so like yesterday I had to remind myself not to get my days confused. A newspaper, written in Arabic, was tucked under his arm. Today he wore wool trousers in dark gray, along with a matching waistcoat. His cotton shirt appeared to be light blue in the dim light of the corridor, and the necktie was undone. And like yesterday, his clothing was appallingly wrinkled and faintly smelled of alcohol.
“You’re an early riser,” Mr. Hayes commented. “And looking quite fetchingdeshabillée.”
A blush warmed my cheeks despite my best effort to appear unaffected by his outrageous compliment. “Gracias,” I said. “And I’m notundressed.”
Mr. Hayes arched a brow. “You know perfectly well what I meant.”
“Have you even gone to bed?”
He grinned. “I got several hours of sleep, I thank you for your concern.”
I looked pointedly to the young woman at his side. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
