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I sighed. “He’s going to cut up the body and pulverize it. The magic is rumored to heal any sickness.” I paused. “There’s a rumor he’s ill with consumption.”
Ricardo’s eyelids drifted shut. “Damn.”
“What do you want to do?”
His eyes opened, blazing and intense. “We find her first, and then make sure that heneverdoes.”
CAPÍTULO VEINTE
With a sigh, I sat back down and finished painting until my back was sore, my fingers cramped. I worked until the moon rose high overhead, silvery light streaming inside from the rectangular hole in the ceiling. When I finally finished, I stood, stretching my stiff limbs. I desperately wanted to search through my uncle’s room, but it’d be foolish to attempt such a thing during my first day here. I’d have to be strategic, and do it when Whit wasn’t hovering near me.
With a last look around to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, I made my way past the two pylons and then outside to the large courtyard. There was no one in sight, quiet save for the gentle hum of the Nile flowing on either side of the small island. The song of the river kept me company on the way back to camp.
As I walked past Trajan’s Kiosk, I felt a peculiar tingle in my fingers. The same one I’d felt earlier. The feeling grew as I drew closer to the immense structure. I was alone, my path illuminated by a million twinkling stars guiding every step. The scene felt ancient and immortal. Magic pulsed in my blood. I took another step, and then another, until I was close enough to touch the platform of Pharaoh’s Bed. My fingers brushed along the limestone.
I tasted roses.
The memory rushed from all sides, looming large in my mind. Cleopatra sailed in extravagant finery, floating on a sharp blue river on a barge fashioned with a gilded stern and immense purple sails. In her hand, she read a letter. A summons from Marcus Antonius to account for her misbehaving. She was meeting the great general for the first time—frustrated, nervous, and annoyed.
A shiver ran across my skin as her feelings invaded my body.
I pulled away with a sharp gasp. The magic thrummed in my blood, reached every corner of my body, and thundered in my ears. I’d never heard it so loud, never felt it so strongly. Recognition blazed, a triumphant roar ringing in my ears. How did the magic pull me in so quickly? More important,whydid it? I tossed out one idea after another. Cleopatra had clearly created a spell to preserve her memories, tasting sharp and sweet like roses, and the effects of the magic had anchored it to the golden ring, and once I’d touched the ring, traces of the magic latched on to me, as magic was known to do. And whatever magic stayed with me recognized the magic in Trajan’s Kiosk. Maybe in this entire island? It was as if Cleopatra had left an imprint of herself behind, a woman who had lived over two millennia ago. I could feel her presence and her emotions. She was alluring and earthy, a woman who knew how to provoke, a woman who knew how to lead.
History also remembered her as a woman adept in the occult.
I stepped away from the platform, my heart beating erratically against my ribs. The awareness dimmed and I could breathe again. I wanted to run inside, but I held myself back. Behind me, the sound of everyone gathering for the evening meal filled the darkening night: low murmured conversation, a crackling fire, and soft laughter.
“Inez?” Tío Ricardo called.
My feet refused to move. Trajan’s Kiosk loomed large, a dark silhouette against the moonstruck sky. For some reason, the touch against the stone made me think of my father. He’d stood here, like I did. Touched by the same lure of the magic. The picture in my mind was tangled and messy but I was beginning to see how it was all connected.
My parents’ deaths.
Mamá scared for her safety.
Cleopatra’s tomb.
Papá and the golden ring, touched by the same magic that had clung to my skin.
“Inez!” The edge of impatience in his voice dispatched a flutter of nerves deep in my belly.
I turned away reluctantly and walked across the sandy expanse between the ancient buildings and our campsite. The air had turned cool and I hunched my shoulders against the night breeze. My uncle waited, limned in the firelight blazing behind him. He watched me narrowly as I approached, a severe line to his shoulders.
“What were you doing?”
Sweat dampened my palms. I kept my voice neutral. Instinct told me to keep my discovery quiet until I knew the rules of his game. One misstep, and he’d sweep me off the board. “I only wanted a closer look. It’s a magnificent structure.”
Tío Ricardo drew closer, and I stiffened. He leaned forward, peering intently into my face. I held myself still and fought to keep my expression neutral. “Did you feel anything?”
“Nothing.” I licked my lips. “Can the feeling of magic fade?”
Tío Ricardo was silent, still intently studying my expression, and then finally straightened. “I don’t know. Perhaps? Come, it’s time to eat with the others.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
He led me to where everyone gathered, sitting on jutting stones or mats and narrow blankets. I perched myself next to my uncle, the warmth of the blaze combating the chill air settling around us like a thick coat. Whit sat across from me, our argument hovering between us like an unwanted houseguest. His fingers were absently moving over the handle of his gun. A nervous twitch I’d seen him do before, his thumb brushing over the initials engraved in the steel. He turned his head in my direction, blue eyes glittering like sapphires, and my stomach swooped sharply. Then he deliberately looked away, engaging in conversation with a crew member on his left.
Tío Ricardo handed me a mug. “You’ll need something warm to drink.”
