“As for…Seton,” she said his name with difficulty. “I can’t feel sorry for him.” Anger was written upon her features. Where she held the blanket her knuckles were clenched white. “I trusted him, as did my father. I wanted to believe…”
“Don’t think about him. I could have told you things, warned you better. I feel responsible.” Taking a shuddering breath, Jack pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly.
He’d come so close to losing her—and what she’d been through, he couldn’t begin to comprehend.
“I made those choices. I think I knew all along Seton would hurt me.” She made a choked sound. “Can we find a way back? You and I?”
“Hush now.” Jack stroked her hair. “If you want to return to England and forget any of this ever happened, I’ll help arrange that, but I don’t know what’s in store for me.” He gulped down the emotion welling up. “If anyonediscovers what I did—shooting Seton, and locking them in…You must know, I love you Onora, but I’ve no idea what the future looks like. I don’t want your name attached to mine if…” The weight on his shoulders seemed insurmountable.
Love was meant to conquer all, but this story, of himself and Onora, wasn’t like any fairytale he’d read. It was hard not to feel responsible for the deaths of those people. He’d never know if they might have saved themselves, had he given them a chance.
“Neither of us is blameless, but we can be good for each other. I want us to be.” The way Onora was looking up at him made his heart leap. Her eyes were glistening, but she was smiling, too. “I’ll stand by you, no matter what’s coming. I love you and I want you, above all things.”
He cupped her cheek, wanting to capture this memory forever—of the moment she let him in; properly this time.
If the gods saw fit, perhaps there would be a happy ending for them or, rather, a happy beginning, with the past laid to rest.
He kissed her with that wish upon hislips—for all the days to come, to love one another, and to fight for that love. She was greater than any treasure he’d ever dig out of the ground, no matter how long he searched. He intended to cherish her, until the last beat of his heart.
EPILOGUE
Evening, at an encampment within the south-eastern area of the Valley of the Kings
March, 1896
Three and a half years later…
Onora closed her notebook and stretched her neck. She’d been sketching a record of the decorative pot fragments they’d unearthed. Doing so hunched over by lamplight wasn’t the easiest task, though it was certainly more comfortable doing soout of her restrictive day clothes. She’d taken to putting on a loose robe in the evenings, very much in the local style.
They’d been systematically excavating all season, and they were onto something; she felt it in her bones. There were tombs, waiting to be discovered. That thought was both terrifying and thrilling, but she trusted in her purpose—even if she would need to take a hiatus for a while.
She’d been saved that night so that she might be here now, alongside the man she loved.
And he’d been saved too.
Fellaheenhad come from far and wide to help in digging out the temple, with Flinders himself travelling up to supervise the effort and bringing his own men. It had taken three weeks before the site was deemed secure enough to allow anyone to venture within, whereupon Kareem and Hassan had volunteered to be the first to enter. They’d emerged with the news all expected: there were no survivors.
No sign either of lock or chain, nor ofthe scarab ornamentations Onora knew the others had been wearing. She might, or might not, have seen Kareem take out the rowboat at dusk with a small bundle discreetly hidden.
Of the men and women entombed, six had been shot, the gun found beside Seton. What had occurred, none could guess at. Mr. Petrie did all in his power to suppress the details, scandalous as they were. The unfortunates were transported to Cairo, there to make their final rest.
However much Onora wished to bury those memories, some still plagued her, though the insistent, compelling voice had departed that night, banished with the storm.
Thankfully all at the villa were safe and, without exception, appeared relieved to be released from their duties. Jack had distributed coin from Seton’s room, making sure they were recompensed, and Onora had insisted they take any provisions and livestock with them, though the property itself fell to the ownership of some distant cousin of Seton’s, whotook on the title. The guests’ belongings had been packed into their trunks and sent on to Cairo to the respective embassies, via Seton’sdahabeya, in the care of Tariq.
Most kindly, Mr. Petrie had brought her to his camp, staying under his protection at the expedition house where his wife took her under her wing. Meanwhile, Mr. Petrie hadn’t hesitated in offering Jack a paid position. By the time Flinders and Hilda set off to their next project, excavating at Koptos, Onora was very sad to be parted from them.
“A letter for you, Mrs. Balfour.” The tent flap moved aside, and Jack stepped in, waving an envelope.
Pushing aside those melancholy thoughts, she greeted him with a kiss. The handwriting was familiar—that of her aunt—and directed to the Winter Palace Hotel, in nearby Luxor. Jack had been over there today, to collect their mail and send some telegrams, as well as collecting some much-needed supplies.
“What’s the news?” Having shrugged offhis jacket, he sat upon the bed and began unlacing his boots.
Onora scanned through. “Clodagh sends love. Maeve is feeling so much better, they’re planning a trip to Lyme Regis as soon as the weather is clement. Maeve liked to hunt for fossils in her youth and has a fancy to retread her steps. The best finds tend to come after winter storms, so she’s hopeful of success. She’s promised to gift you the first ammonite she lays hands on.”
Jack let out a low whistle. “Good for her. Never too late for adventure, eh?”
“They’re looking forward to seeing us when we return at the end of April.” Onora smiled at him over the sheaf of paper.
