“I’m not accepting your help without conditions.”
He nodded in resignation. “I thought so.”
“No more lies,” I said. “No more scheming, no more half-truths and omissions.”
He made a noise at the back of his throat. “I’m not going to volunteer information that you don’t ask for—Will you let me finish, Inez?”
I snapped my mouth shut and glared at him.
“But if it pertains to you, I’ll share what I know.”
“Fine,” I said icily. “Tell me the real reason why you’re still here. Is it to find the Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra?”
Whit’s jaw tightened. “It’s part of the reason.”
“And the other?”
“What are your other conditions?” he countered. “I know you have more.”
“No more leaving me behind. Wherever you go, I go.”
His brow darkened. “I’m not risking your life. Next.”
I went to stand and he flung out his arm, snarling. “Fine. What else?”
“We are through,” I said, fighting to keep the tears at bay. “You can’t kiss me.”
Whit regarded me stonily and dipped his chin.
I stood, and this time he didn’t stop me. I walked three paces, when another condition pressed hard against my chest, robbing me of breath. Isadora had suggested it, but I’d dismissed the idea outright. Except she was right, it was the best course of action to take. Formypeace of mind. For my heart. Once I said it aloud, there was no going back. But it had to be done—I would grieve afterward when I was far away from this place. Slowly, I turned, my heart racing. “And Whit?”
He regarded me warily. “What else?”
My lips trembled, but I was reasonably proud when my voice didn’t crack. “When this is all over, you will let me quietly divorce you.”
His eyes burned into mine. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Understood.”
WHIT
Hours later, I was already lying to her.
The streets were quiet this time of night, but even so, I was not going to bring Inez to an opium den. I could only imagine her expression the moment she crossed the threshold, swirls of smoke covering every inch of her, her face turned toward mine, alchemical eyes burning gold in disapproval.
No, thank you.
I kept my feet light on the dirt street, having turned off the main thoroughfare and away from the fancy buildings with their Parisian arches and elegant doorways. The road narrowed, and overhead, shutters were closed. Only the soft sounds of others milling in darkened alleys disturbed the sharp quiet. My revolver was a sure weight against my hip as I glanced behind me once, twice, three times.
Someone followed.
I couldn’t hear them, but my intuition sparked under my skin, raising the hair at the back of my neck. Whoever trailed after me was silent and no stranger to the streets. They knew where to step; they knew what shadows to embrace. I could guess who they were—I’d killed a contact since arriving in Cairo, and word would have spread.
Peter’s associates would be none too pleased with me.
At last, the nondescript entrance to the opium den I sought loomed ahead, a narrow doorway flanked by men lounging on the front steps. I passed through without comment, knowing they’d recognize my face under the harsh moonlight. Inside, low couches were filled with officers, diplomats, effendis, and beys, all enjoying the dancing women and drink, and the potent siren of the crushed poppy seed. I found a stretch of the wall unoccupied and leaned against it, tucked into the shadows and behind a half-drawn curtain separating one small room from the next. The low chatter of conversation became a constant thrum as I waited to see who would walk in after me.
I expected it to be my stalker, but a group entered—three, no four, people dressed in dark clothing, laughing quietly, already at their second or third establishment of the night. Frustration pricked—I didn’t have all night to see which of Peter’s friends was after me. I wanted to know where the gate would move next. My attention flicked to the adjoining room, and I slid inside, immediately noticing the man I needed to see. He was an antiquities officer by day and a curator for Tradesman’s Gate by night. He’d know where the next auction would take place. And fortunately for me, he knew who I was.
I sat down next to him, and he looked at me through bloodshot eyes.
