Whit shrugged and said nonchalantly, “You’d be surprised.”
Another thought occurred to me. “Where does Mr. Fincastle fit into all this? He’s her lover, her business partner. Could he be with Mamá in Alexandria?”
“Lourdes might be the one focusing on founding a new black market, while Fincastle could be searching for Cleopatra’s Chrysopoeia. The reverse couldalsobe true.”
“If I were them,” I said, “I would take care not to be in the same place. One person in a different city, or part of the country, and the other on the opposite end.” I studied him carefully, the sun hitting him square in the face, making his eyes squint. “It seems like a logical course of action to split up,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “Why don’t you stop following me around and continue the search for the alchemical sheet?” And because I was a glutton for punishment, I asked the question I was afraid to know the answer to. Even though it shouldn’t have mattered anymore, the words ran out of my mouth unfettered. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”
His expression changed subtly, brows drawing inward, the line of his jaw hardening. He was quiet for so long I knew it must be because he was having an argument with himself. This was always the case with Whit. How much of his inner world did he want to reveal? I used to think that he feared being vulnerable because some truths could be used as weapons against him, but now I knew different. Whit wasn’t fearful; he wasscheming.
He was helping me only because it served his own interests.
He folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, it’s what I really want.” He locked eyes with me, and my heart stuttered. “More thananything, I want that alchemical sheet.”
It was as if he’d dealt me a physical blow. Hurt bloomed outward,making my chest feel tight. “I’m going to Alexandria,” I said with a finality I didn’t feel.
But should have.
My voice snapped him from his thoughts. The corners of his mouth tightened as he leaned forward, so close the brush of his words caressed my mouth. “Not without me you’re not.”
WHIT
Inez had insisted on visiting Ricardo in prison before setting off to Alexandria, and I had agreed to take her. But of course, nothing was ever going to be as simple as her and me having a quick visit, and an hour before we left, we were joined by the rest of her family: the grieving aunt, the disapproving cousin—the latter of which had done nothing but snipe at Inez and glower at me. When Isadora said she wanted to go, I put my foot down.
We were already going to be a bloody parade.
“Ricardo will punt you out of the room himself,” I snarled. “Under no circumstances are you going.”
Isadora shot a steely-eyed glare at me and left the hotel room, her back rigid, hands curled into fists.
“Was thatreallynecessary?” Inez asked, placing a wide-brimmed hat on her head. She was wearing too fine a dress for the prison. The hem would be up to three inches in dirt and dust. It was the kind of thing Arabella would feel self-conscious about. My protective instincts flared, and I debated letting Inez know the state of the roads, but I bit my tongue.
“Your uncle can’t stand her, either,” I said. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t mention that she’s with us. One more thing for him to worry about.”
Her lips flattened to a mulish line, but she didn’t protest. Thank Christ.
“Let’s go,” I said. “I’ll have enough trouble getting all of you inside once we’re there, and I know we’re in a hurry.”
Inez walked to the door and threw it open, one light hand on theknob. She gave me a sweet smile over her shoulder. “Farida wants to come also.”
I sighed.
I hated coming back to this building. It was once a military hospital, and I wouldn’t be able to walk the halls without thinking of the friends who’d died within these walls. But now it had been converted to a prison. Instead of a place that worked hard to ensure people were able to leave out the front door, it was now a place where people were condemned to be forgotten.
Ricardo and Abdullah hadn’t been tried as of yet, but they were being detained to prevent any fleeing out of the country. Monsieur Maspero assured me they’d be given every consideration for their class and status.
But even so, I worried what state we’d find them in.
And it didn’t help that Inez had gone pale the farther we traveled north of Cairo. It was a journey of eight miles to Tourah, the village where the wounded had gone to be treated.
Inez stared at the plain and austere prison building, her face wincing. “Abdullah and Tío Ricardo are in there?”
“It’s been much improved.” It had been dilapidated, the upper story dated, but it was recently renovated and restructured with well-ventilated wards, new beds and bedding, and the appointment of a well-trained doctor. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
At first the warden didn’t want to permit all of us to visit Ricardo and Abdullah, but eventually he relented under the severe glares he received from all the women in our party. No one, however, came close to Amaranta’s fierce scowl.
I understood why she was Inez’s least-favorite cousin.
Eventually we were led by two guards to the third floor of the prison, down a long corridor, and to the last cell on the right. One of the guards opened the heavy iron door, the key making a loud scraping noise. We were all silent, waiting to be allowed inside. Next to me, Inez was practically trembling, I’m sure terrified of what state she’d find Abdullah and her uncle in.
