Mr. Graves jabbed the tip of the gun deep into my back, and I jumped.
“I’m afraid I have more patience than he does,” Papá said. “I would do as he says.”
Then he collected his disguise from off the floor and once again became Mr. Sterling. As he fixed his awful mustache, realization slowly dawned on me.
My father had died the day I received my uncle’s letter. There would never be a moment when I’d look at Papá and not think of Mr. Sterling, his alter ego. A man he’d created who used violence to get what he wanted, lies to become more powerful, and coercion to acquire information.
The man I had loved all my life was gone forever, and what killed memost was that I had never known who Papá was at all, or what he was capable of.
If I had, maybe I could have protected myself from ever loving a monster.
We took another carriage, and once again I found myself seated next to Mr. Graves. They blindfolded me. They must have believed that with the gun pointed in my direction, I would not make a fuss. But I was reeling from our conversation, and I couldn’t sit still. I wanted out of the brougham; I wanted out of my father’s heinous plans.
“Donotfidget, Inez,” Papá said.
I swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you reveal who you were earlier?”
“You had only just arrived, and I needed to see how you would fare,” he said. “I watched you from afar and observed who you were without your mother or me there to guide or admonish your behavior. I sent you the golden ring, wondering if the magic would leach into you, like it did me.”
“Is that the proof you were looking for?” I asked bitterly. “To confirm our blood was the same?”
“It certainly helped, but magic is fickle, and I couldn’t rely on it entirely,” he said. “I kept tabs on you while you walked through the bazaar and felt joy when the magic lured you to the same trinket vendor I had visited.” His voice dropped to a disappointed hush. “But then you disappeared. No one knew where you had gone. My men searched your hotel room and found that you’d left your trunks behind. Clothes, books, most of your art supplies.”
That was when I had stowed away on theElephantine. “Why didn’t the magic lead you to me?”
“You’d traveled too far,” he said. “And I realized you must have gone with Ricardo to a secret excavation site—which could have been anywhere in Upper Egypt. Thanks to his brute aide-de-camp who spread rumors of several dig locations down the Nile.”
Whitford. I couldn’t help my small smile.
“A dishonorably discharged soldier for a husband. I’m so proud, Inez.”
I flinched at the harsh reprimand.
“That is your mother in you,” he continued. “When I’d found out that she had stolen Cleopatra from me, that you had helped her—well, I admit I lost my temper.”
“Cleopatra never belonged to you,” I said. “She doesn’t belong to anyone.”
“Well, thanks to you, she’s in your mother’s ignorant hands. I realized then that you were doing more damage to me than I had anticipated. I had hoped you’d act with more sense. But you disappointed me, Inez.”
“Is that when you ordered my kidnapping?”
Papá tugged the blindfold off me. I blinked several times, waiting for my eyes to adjust. It didn’t take long; a quick glance out the window revealed a darkening sky. We were in the outer city limits of Alexandria, the field of ruins spreading out in every direction. Fallen columns and small hills peppered the expansive area. I turned my attention back to my father.
“It was,” he said. “I saw you at the New Year’s Eve party and gave the order for a dark-haired young woman in a gold dress to be brought to me. But your mother intercepted my men and marked the wrong girl. I had no use for Elvira.”
Fury tightened my hands into fists. “You had her killed.”
“No,” he said. “Your uncle did when he refused to tell me where Lourdes had gone.”
“He didn’t know,” I exclaimed, leaning forward.
Mr. Graves swung his arm forward and pushed me back against the seat with a violent shove. I gasped, trying to wiggle away, but he wouldn’t budge.
“I was sorry to hear of her death,” he conceded. “Entirely avoidable.”
I let out a sob, shutting my eyes. It didn’t matter—tears swept down my cheeks, and I hated my display of emotion, of vulnerability. He didn’t deserve it.
Mr. Graves let me go, and I slumped forward, shuddering.
