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And yet, Rhys couldn’t help thinking something was bound to go wrong. That Akeem wouldn’t come or he wouldn’t bring Fiona. Or he’d see through their hastily crafted report. If that happened, there was no telling how he might react.
He wondered briefly if he ought to have taken Tyndale up on his offer to come with him. At least then he’d have had another pair of eyes, but he couldn’t abide the thought of Helen left alone once more if anything should happen to the professor.
He checked the pocket of his coat again, relieved to feel the smooth edges of the amulet. The minutes ticked by, and he tensed with every shadow that moved. Suddenly, the door to the coffee shop opened and Akeem appeared. Rhys held his breath as he waited for what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been more than seconds. Finally, Fiona emerged through the shadowed doorway.
Rhys’s heart jumped with relief, nearly choking the breath from him as it leapt into his throat. Dressed in simple peasant garb, she appeared whole and unharmed. Her face lit on seeing him.
“Rhys!” She started toward him, but the man at her back held her arm.
“Our bargain first,” Akeem said.
Rhys held the amulet up for Akeem to see. “I have the amulet,” he said, his voice echoing off the clay bricks. “Release my sister and it’s yours.”
Akeem’s eyes narrowed as he said, “And the information on the other pieces?”
“Also yours, once I have my sister.”
After a long beat, Akeem motioned to the man holding Fiona. He released her, and she raced forward, stumbling once on the uneven cobbles. Rhys clasped her to him briefly before shoving her behind him.
“Evelyn,” Akeem growled as he waited impatiently for the amulet. Rhys tossed the scarab, and Akeem snatched it from the air. “And the rest?”
Rhys pulled in a heavy breath. This would either work… or it wouldn’t. “You’ve heard of the curse surrounding the Pharaoh’s Trinity,” he said. “That a terrible fate awaits those who possess all three pieces. Are you certain you wish to find the others?”
Akeem’s eyes narrowed. “The information, Evelyn.”
Rhys sighed and placed his hands on his hips as he recalled the details Helen had pieced together from her texts. “Very well. It’s believed one of the wings may lie beyond the second cataract of the Nile, in the deserts of Lower Nubia. It’s said to be guarded by the fierce nomadic tribes who roam the region, and its precise location is known only to a select few. But the ancient texts suggest”—he paused and Akeem’s brows dipped low—“it will be found deep beneath the southern base of the Grand Temple at Abu Simbel.”
Akeem listened intently, nodding as Rhys spoke. “I know Abu Simbel,” he said. “And the final piece?”
Rhys swallowed. This was the bit that had been heavily embellished. “The final piece is the most well-hidden of all. It’s believed to be in Upper Nubia, deep beneath the sands at Nuri…” Rhys let his words hang.
“And?” Akeem prompted.
“It’s in the forgotten burial chamber of Queen Asata, guarded by powerful spells and traps. It’s said that only those who possess a purity of spirit can hope to find it.Ifyou believe in spells and that sort of thing,” he finished with a snort.
Akeem’s eyes narrowed at the mention of spells and traps. Such things were not to be taken lightly. After a long beat, he asked, “Where did you learn this information?”
Rhys crossed his arms. He wasnotbringing Helen into this or sharing anything of Tyndale’s involvement in the tale they’d crafted. “I’ll not reveal my sources,” he said cryptically. “That was not our bargain, but if I were you, I’d be more concerned with where your partner has gone.”
Akeem looked behind him, but his companion had quietly ducked back through the coffee shop, most likely to hie himself off to the Collector with their new information.
Akeem cursed fluently in Arabic before hurrying after his colleague. Rhys stood motionless for a beat, hardly daring to believe that had gone as well as it had. Then, turning on his heel, he gripped Fiona’s hand and strode swiftly toward Shepheard’s Hotel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You’ve been at the convent of St. George all this time?” Rhys asked again, incredulous, and his sister nodded. They sat in the small sitting room of their suite, and tea had been brought up. Two of Shepheard’s maids worked in the other rooms, quietly packing their things into trunks. One of the river steamers would leave tomorrow for Alexandria, and he meant for them to be on it.
He was taking his sister home. Finally.
He couldn’t quite believe the exchange with Akeem had gone as planned, without the complications that had plagued him for the last weeks. Whenever he thought it, his chest tightened with dread. Their troubles couldn’t be ended so easily. He also couldn’t believe Fiona sat across from him, loading a scone with clotted cream. She appeared as whole as when she’d been taken, barring her injuries at the end of her kidnapper’s knife. Akeem, he presumed with a fresh scowl.
When Fiona had told him of her injury, he’d risen from his chair to run a hand through his hair in frustrated agitation. He longed to search out the man, to seek revenge for what Fiona had suffered at his hand. She urged him back to his seat, assuring him she’d healed nicely. “I’m fine, Rhys, truly. And I’ve a magnificent story to tell my grandchildren one day about my time as a captive in a foreign land.” She shivered for effect, although she didn’t seem the least bit distraught.
“You don’t have children,” he reminded her, “so I don’t see how you plan to have grandchildren.”
Her eyes grew wistful as she licked her thumb. “Someone very wise once advised me to never say never.” Rhys considered their last days together at the hotel, and he thought that “someone” might have been him. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“This experience has reminded me that life is not certain,” Fiona continued. “We must take whatwe can, where we can. Perhaps I shall marry again one day, after all, if the opportunity presents itself.”
