Isadora nodded, her face partly turned away from mine, and I finally caught what she was trying so desperately to hide. Her hands shook, and her breathing came out in soft, shallow huffs. She swayed, and alarm flared in my chest. I motioned for her to sit on the bed.
“Are you all right?” I asked again.
She sat, still coolly composed. “I’m fine. Only a little light-headed.”
Once again, I observed the state of her wardrobe, the tired lines acrossher brow. Her posture was perfect, but she seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open.
“When was the last time you drank anything?” I demanded. “Have you eaten? Where is your father?”
Isadora blinked. “I managed to have a cup of tea this morning. I haven’t eaten in a couple of days. And as for my father…” Her voice trailed off, and her composure cracked. “I have no idea.”
I sank down next to her. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve had a trying few days,” she admitted softly. “I came here because… well, because I need your assistance.”
“You need my help?” I asked, raising my brows.
She winced, looking away, attempting to compose herself. “Sorry, this is hard to talk about.”
The polite thing to do would be not to press her for more information. I knew that, except that familiar flare of curiosity burned in my throat. Questions bubbled to the surface. Isadora never complained in the days we spent underground, working together to record the wondrous artifacts we’d found in Cleopatra’s tomb. She bore the heat and toil and her father’s constant supervision with a steady hand and a calm precision. If she was telling me she had had a trying few days, then it really meant that she’d been through hell and back.
I would have to be blunt. “You look ill and exhausted. What has happened?”
She shifted, met my eyes squarely. “Can I trust you?”
I blinked, taken aback. “In what sense? With a secret? Yes. If you’re asking me to help you cover up a murder, then no. I don’t know you well enough for that, and I hope you’ll agree.” I blanched. “Not that I’d ever help cover up a murder, but I do hope you know what I meant, don’t you?”
She laughed, and the hot tension she carried on her shoulders cooled by several degrees. “I think I feel a bit better. An hour ago, I would have thought it impossible.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “Meanwhile, I’m slowly going mad with curiosity.”
I had thought to make her laugh again, but all the mirth bled from herface. “Once I say this aloud, it’s done. It’s real. I won’t be able to unsay it. There’s no coming back from it.” Her bottom lip wobbled, and I almost leapt to my feet from the shock of seeing her so discomposed. But I forced myself still, forced myself to remain calm even as my body waged war. I wanted to shake her senseless.
“It will be all right,” I said. “Tell me. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Isadora inhaled, clearly trying to calm herself. “You’ll think differently of me.”
We were friends, but only recently. I couldn’t imagine why it would matter to her what I thought of her. Isadora watched me with a shrewd expression on her face.
“I do care what you believe of me,” she whispered. “Which is why I don’t want to tell you that my father is a thief of the worst kind. He’s not the man I thought him to be.”
“A thief,” I repeated.
I barely heard her hushed reply. “Yes.”
A sense of unease rose within, like weeds poking through an orderly garden. Dread curled deep in my belly. I was afraid to ask, somehow already anticipating the answer. The last time I’d seen Mr. Fincastle, her father, I was leaving him behind on Philae—where we’d found Cleopatra’s tomb. Surely she wasn’t speaking of… of…
But she confirmed the fear building inside me.
“Yes,” she said softly, reaching for me. “You understand me perfectly, I see.” She inhaled one long, shuddering breath. “He and a party of six men, maybe seven, attacked the camp and took everything on Philae.”
The room spun. I pulled free from her grasp and wrapped my arms around my stomach, desperately trying to keep myself from falling apart. I covered my face with my hands and let out a muffled shriek. This was why Abdullah had sent his urgent telegram to Tío Ricardo. By now, they would have made it to Philae and discovered Mr. Fincastle’s treachery. Isadora’s words penetrated my wild panic and the sense of despair crawling across my skin. Her father hadattacked the camp. Used his guns to overtake the team.Dios mío.
I prayed no one had been hurt.
I ought to be there, and I raged against the miles between Cairo and Philae. I’d never felt so helpless.
“Anything valuable, anything made of gold was hauled away. Even… even—” Isadora broke off.
