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“Akeem,” he greeted. “You still haven’t found the rest of the Pharaoh’s Trinity?” That the man even thought he could in the vast deserts of Egypt was a testament to human optimism.
Akeem waved the question away to say, “The tale you spun for me when I traded your sister for the amulet—the one about the burial chamber of Queen Asata. Where did you hear it?”
Rhys recalled the afternoon he’d sat with Tyndale and Helen in Shepheard’s east parlor. They’d pieced together what Helen had read for half of their tale, but the other half had been carefully crafted from nothing but air. “I’m afraid it was fabricated,” he said. “A complete fiction.”
“You didn’t hear it somewhere?”
“What is this about?” Rhys asked.
“I would like to know if there’s something to it. Where did you hear it?” he repeated.
“Akeem,” Rhys said as he indicated the flutes of champagne, “this is my wedding party.”
“Yes, of course. Congratulations on your lovely bride,” Akeem said automatically. “Now, where did you hear the tale of the Trinity?”
“Ask me another time,” Rhys said as he turned to find his wife. “Next week, perhaps. Or even better, next month. Right now, I plan to enjoy a glass of champagne with my wife.”
Akeem made a noise that sounded like a growl before turning on his heel.
“What was that about?” Helen asked as she watched Akeem stride away.
Rhys handed her one of the flutes. “Akeem is still intent on finding the rest of the Trinity,” he said.
She sipped, humming her pleasure at the taste of the champagne. When she licked a drop from the corner of her mouth, Rhys bent to steal another kiss, savoring the sweetness of the wine on her lips. Then he groaned, cursing Akeem and all of Egypt for distracting him.
“The Trinity,” he said, unable to stop thinking of Akeem’s question. “When we devised the tale about the second wing… was that all a fiction, or was there some truth to it?”
“Truth?” she asked, setting her flute aside. “No one knows where the wings are buried.”
“No, but the tale we created… did it come from somewhere?”
She considered the question as her fingers threaded through his. “Well… parts of it were from old stories my father used to tell us when we were children. They’re fromOne Thousand and One Nights, I believe. Although,” she added with a frown, “I’ve since learned he left out the most interesting parts about murders and concubines.”
Rhys smiled. “So, when I relayed our tale to Akeem… I was essentially telling him a bedtime story?”
“Well, yes,” she said, “in a manner of speaking, I suppose.”
Rhys’s smile erupted into a laugh. “Life with you, my love, will never be dull.”
“I should hope not,” she said as his lips met hers.
THE END
