Behind him, a boulder fell, splintering the wooden floor apart. It crashed into the water below. Dimly, I heard the sounds of several people screaming, running back the way we had come.
Whit tugged and we ran through a narrow doorway. The floor shook beneath my feet as pillars fell like dominos around us. I looked back to find my parents behind us, my mother quickly running, my father hobbling after her, red-faced. His left cheek was splattered with blood, as if he’d been struck by debris.
We navigated the rooms as the walls shook and cracked. At some point, Mamá doubled back into one of them, snatching one of the rolled parchments. She didn’t break her stride as she tucked it inside a shiny cloth. My father actually stopped and began stuffing his pockets with scrolls, whatever he could carry.
“Are you mad?” Whit bellowed over his shoulder. “Leave them! Leave them!”
But my father only slowed down.
My mother seemed to fall under the same spell because she, too, stopped to snatch more scrolls. The pair of them were no longer at war with each other, lost in their desperation to gather the priceless parchments.
“We need her,” I gasped.
Whit shot me a furious glare but let go of my hand and then raced back for Mamá. He picked her up and carried her kicking and screaming to where I stood waiting. Together we rushed through the rooms of the library, Papá limping after us, carting a bundle of scrolls high in his arms.
From the corner of my eye, a narrow arch came into view. It was plain, the carvings long since smoothed away, but some of the tiles remained, though they were chipped and cracked. It was nothing like it had been, but I knew it all the same.
I raced toward it, nimbly climbing over boulders and darting around broken columns and loose papyrus that would serve as kindling for the raging fire.
“For the love of God, Inez!” Whit roared.
I stopped inside the arch, as if transfixed. “It’s inside this room.”
“What is?” my husband snarled. He’d released my mother at some point because he marched up to me empty handed. “Inez, I swear—”
“It’s the Chrysopoeia, Whit,” I interrupted, pressing on the tiles. The blue veined in gold, the serpent, the red tile now faded. I removed the tile with the three-headed dog and pulled the golden ring off my finger. The floor shook underneath my feet. We were running out of time.
“I know where it is,” I said, staring at the spot I needed to place the jewelry in.
Another column crashed behind us, and I startled, coming to my senses.
This wasn’t worth our lives.
Whit must have seen the hesitation on my face because he took the ring and placed it inside the vacated space. It still fit perfectly.
“I need it to make everything right between us,” Whit said over the sound of the library coming apart at the seams. “It’s the only way I can pay you back.”
I looked into his face, streaked with dust, a bruise blooming across his cheek, his bottom lip bloody. “I thought you understood.”
“Inez—”
“The money doesn’t matter to me,” I said. “The only thing that does is you, us, our family.Youare the love of my life, and I will not lose you now.”
He shut his eyes, his breath shuddering. When he opened them again, he stared at me intently, his hand coming to brush against the curve of my cheek. “I love you.”
I gave him a watery smile. “You are the most precious thing in here, Whit.”
“Sweetheart, will you marry me?”
I blinked at him in alarm. Perhaps something had struck his head, made him forget—
“I know we’re already married,” he said. “But I’m asking you again, Inez, this time for real. I want to do it properly. I want you to have flowers.”
“Roses?” I whispered.
“In every color, if that’s what you want.” He pulled me close, and I tilted my chin upward, met his deep kiss, and then I smiled against his mouth and whispered, “Yes, yes, yes.”
“This is very touching,” came a voice from behind us. “But I’m afraid I still want that sheet.”
