He sighed, the sound a mixture of exasperation and reluctant admiration, and grabbed his bag. “Come. Before someone else wakes up and sees what you’re wearing.”
Max and Eden rode at the head of their small caravan, both mounted on camels that Max had selected for their strength and gentle temperament. The camels, with their slow, swaying gait, had great endurance but were taxing to ride, requiring the constant micro-adjustment of core muscles.
Behind them came a small procession of donkeys, laden with water skins and canvas bags. The bulk of their supplies was carried by two more camels, their great humps piled high with shovels, picks, and crates of provisions. The leader of their crew, Amir, led the way, his face a stern mask of concentration as he guided his mount through the city’s thinning outskirts. A half-dozen other Bedouin men, hired by Amir for their local knowledge and resilience, followed on foot, their figures becoming one with the sand-colored landscape.
When they’d first seen Eden and her breeches, they’d all been visibly taken aback, but Amir had spoken to them quietly, andthey’d seemed to come to an understanding. Max discerned that the exorbitant amount they were being paid offset their offense.
He caught them staring at her occasionally, and he sensed they thought her a bit mad and certainly unconventional, but he didn’t feel as though he needed to worry about them.
As they left Cairo, the cobbled streets turned to packed dirt, the cacophony giving way to the rhythmic padding of camel feet. As they journeyed westward, the last of the green fields lining the Nile’s floodplain faded entirely. The air, once thick with the smells of spices and fuel, now held the clean, dry scent of the Sahara.
Eden’s khaki breeches and loose linen shirt were already covered with a fine coating of sand. He saw the way her eyes widened as the true scale of the Western Desert opened before them, an immense, empty sea of copper and yellow. He wondered what she was thinking now. Was she questioning the reckless choice they had both made last night, or was she focusing wholly on their quest?
As for himself, he found it hard to concentrate on anything but her. Last night had left him feeling raw and exposed. He wished she’d say something to give him a little peace of mind about it all, but she’d been strangely silent this morning, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.
The first few hours were marked by the gentle rocking of the camels. The sun was not yet at its zenith, and a cool breeze whispered across the dunes. The initial novelty of the caravan had not worn off, and Eden’s face still held a look of wonder. It was a beautiful, terrible landscape, a place that could break a person just as easily as it could fill them with awe.
However, by midday, the sun was a white-hot orb in the sky, and its heat pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating. The air shimmered over the dunes, distorting the landscape. Max could tell Eden was tiring, fighting the urge to slump as thecamel’s rhythmic sway became punishing. Her linen shirt was now soaked with sweat, and a fine layer of dust clung to her skin, accentuating the tired lines around her mouth. She hadn’t complained, but he could see the strain in the rigid set of her shoulders.
They stopped to rest in the sparse shade of a small rock formation. The Bedouins quietly saw to the animals and broke out water skins and dates. Max watched as Eden took a long, grateful drink from her flask, her throat working as she swallowed.
He approached her, his voice low. “How are you holding up?”
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of dirt behind. “The heat is... more considerable than I had anticipated.” She offered a wry smile. “My gloves feel quite superfluous now.” She had taken them off hours ago.
He knew she was trying to make light of it, but he could see the fatigue in her eyes. It was only the first day. The journey would take a week or more, and that was before they even began the work of the dig itself.
Amir approached them, offering a few small, sweet dates. “Eat, Lady Eden,” he said, a simple, firm command. “It will give you strength.”
She thanked him graciously, taking a bite of the fruit. Max saw the genuine respect in Amir’s gaze; the foreman had been watching her quiet determination, her lack of complaint. He’d probably feared she’d be clamoring to turn back by this time. Max felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps she would prove stronger than he had feared. Her strength was a quiet, stubborn flame, unlike the theatrical bravado he was more accustomed to.
Late in the afternoon, the sun began its slow descent, and the light turned a softer, more golden hue. The air grew cooler, and Eden seemed to find her second wind. The sheer, empty beauty of the desert returned, no longer harsh and unforgiving, but vastand serene. The camels, sensing the end of the day’s march, picked up their pace. They moved in perfect unison, a slow, methodical line against the backdrop of an impossibly beautiful sunset.
Max rode beside her, the conversation between them as light and easy as it had been the day before. But in the back of his mind, the question persisted. Would she be able to keep up this pace for days on end?
They arrived at the chosen campsite as dusk settled over the land. The men set up the tents, their movements a blur of practiced efficiency. The aroma of a cooking fire began to waft through the air, and Max and Eden sat on a thick rug, watching as the stars began to appear, one by one.
Max looked at Eden, covered in dust, her eyes bright with the profound awe of the endless night sky. They had made it through the first test. It was a good start.
“The hard part is over,” Eden murmured, tilting her head back, accepting the desert’s immensity.
Max shook his head, gazing out at the star-filled darkness. “No, Eden. You made it through the first day. The hard part is always still ahead.” He reached over and briefly pressed his hand to the dusty, resilient fabric on her knee. “But you did well. I’m proud of you.”
She smiled tiredly, but her emerald eyes glowed at his compliment. “Do you mean it? You’re not just saying that? Because there were times today when I doubted everything.”
“I mean it,” he assured her. “In fact, you’ve done better than a lot of the men I’ve led out here.”
She threw back her head and laughed, a deep throaty sound, and he knew he’d managed to say the right thing.
By the time Eden entered her tent that night, her limbs felt like lead, and her thighs and lower back were burning from the unfamiliar, relentless motion of the camel. A fine layer of dust coated her skin, gritty and uncomfortable, clinging to the sweat that had long since dried. She pushed aside the heavy canvas flap, the sound of the rustling fabric loud in the profound silence of the desert night.
It was a proper bell tent, large enough for her to stand upright, with a canvas floor that kept out the worst of the sand. A cot-like bed was laid out on a thick wool blanket, its bedding rolled up neatly at the foot. A single lantern hung from the central pole, casting a soft, golden glow that felt incredibly inviting after the darkness outside. Her personal trunk sat in one corner, its brass fittings gleaming, and a basin of water and a clean towel sat beside it.
She peeled off her dusty clothes, struggling a bit with her corset, but the relief of the fresh air against her skin was nearly overwhelming. The breeches she’d been so adamant about felt heavy and stiff now. Dipping the cloth into the blessedly cold water, she scrubbed her face and body, removing the layers of sweat and grit. It wasn’t a bath, but it revived her considerably. She was glad she was alone for this ritual; in the small metal mirror, she saw a raw, unflattering reflection of a woman at her limit.
Slipping into her nightclothes, a simple cotton shift and her clean pair of breeches, she sank onto the cot. The bed, while Spartan, was far more comfortable than she had dared to hope. The exhaustion was so deep it felt rooted in her bones. She had pushed herself all day, refusing to complain or show any sign of weakness. But now, in the privacy of her tent, a profound sense of doubt began to creep in.
Was she truly capable of this? This was just the first day. There were at least six more to go before they even reached thedig site. The sheer scale of the desert was like nothing she had ever known. She had studied the past, but she had never had to contend with its harsh reality. She had assumed her passion would be enough. But passion was no match for the sun, the sand, or the gnawing ache in her muscles.
