I raised my paddle. “Five thousand pounds.” Isadora loudly coughed, her delicate face turning red. With my free hand, I slapped her back. “She’s fine, though the dust in this room is frightful.”
The founder turned in his chair and looked at me. I could have sworn I saw a smile on his face, before he resumed facing forward. After a moment, he stood and exited the room.
Phillip rearranged his surprised expression, though he couldn’t quite hide the excitement from his voice. “Five thousand to the lively young lady at the back. Do I hear five thousand two hundred pounds?”
Someone in the middle row raised their paddle.
“Five thousand two hundred,” Phillip said. “To the gentleman with the green coat. Do I hear—”
“Ten thousand pounds,” I said.
Isadora muffled her gasp. “Need I remind you that you don’t have any money? Your scoundrel of a husband went through it all in less than a day.”
I ignored her, waiting to see what the auctioneer would do. In the row ahead of us, several attendees had swirled around to gape at me. A few whispered farther up, no doubt wondering what was so special about the asp statue.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Phillip said. “I suppose I ought to mention where this little statue was found, hidden for two millennia in a burial chamber for one of the most famous rulers of ancient Egypt.” Several auction attendees leaned forward in their seat, their interest palpable. “The search for this ruler’s tomb has captured the imagination of the entire world, akin to the search for Noah’s ark and the Holy Grail. Are you ready to know the answer?” Phillip smiled smugly, a man who knew he held his audience in the palm of his hand.
“This asp was discovered alongside a pharaoh of Egypt, a woman of legend and renown.” Someone audibly gasped, while a ripple seemed to spread through crowd, as if they had been dreaming but were now awake and alert. “This same woman, long believed to be a talented Spellcaster, was the descendant of a famous alchemist who made the astonishing discovery on how to turn lead into gold. Rumor has it that she wrote the instructions down on a single sheet of parchment.” Phillip shifted, turning to address the other side of the room. “No one has found it—yet. But perhaps this asp’s final resting place will give us a clue to its whereabouts.”
“How?” someone yelled.
Phillip pivoted again, locating the man who had shouted the question. “Because of all the places where the Chrysopoeia could be, why not with the alchemist’s descendant? The news will break in all the newspapers soon, but for now, you have the pleasure of hearing it at the gate first: Cleopatra’s tomb and an incredible assortment of valuable treasures have been found!”
Phillip smiled, pausing for dramatic effect as the crowd teemed with unbridled enthusiasm. “Now, shall we resume the bidding?”
“Ten thousand five hundred pounds,” someone said, waving their paddle.
I glared at the individual, my own paddle already high over my head. “Fifty thousand pounds.”
The room hushed. Isadora sank farther into the chair, softly groaning.
“Fifty thousand pounds,” the auctioneer repeated faintly. He cleared his throat and shook his head, as if disbelieving his own words. In a stronger voice, he said, “Do I hear fifty-one thousand pounds?”
No one stirred.
“No?” Phillip asked. “Fair enough. Sold! To the young lady, apparently a Cleopatra aficionado.”
The same young man walked onto the stage, wearing gloves, and carefully removed the statue. Though he wore a mask obscuring his face, his auburn hair glimmered in the candlelight. He was wearing a different shirt than the one I’d seen him in earlier, and while he never once looked in my direction, I could sense his ire.
My rascal of a husband.
“That’s Whit,” Isadora said in astonishment. “Isn’t it? Wasn’t he wearing a blue shirt earlier, though?”
“It is Whit,” I confirmed grimly. “And he was wearing blue. He must have ruined the other or found a spare to use as a disguise.”
“What on earth is he doing?”
I massaged a growing ache at my temple, a yawning pit deep in my belly. When was I going to learn to take better care with my thieving husband? This auction presented many temptations for him, since money was what he was after. “He might be stealing the asp.”
“What?”
Whit disappeared into another room, as the throng of people chatted, several continuing to openly stare at me. Which, I suppose, I couldn’t blame them for. I had caused quite a stir. I jumped to my feet, intent on following after him, but someone cleared their throat from behind me.
I turned in surprise. It was the same man from before, the one who had given us the masks and paddles.
“Excuse me,” he said. “But the founder would like a word with you.” His attention flicked toward my sister, who stood, but the man shook his head. “No, not you. Only this one.”
WHIT
