“It was destroyed in the bombing,” Whit said. “And anyway, it would have been too expensive. We don’t have that kind of money at our disposal.”
“And whose fault was that again?” Isadora asked, turning the page.
“I don’t see you contributing,” he countered. “You’ve been acting like a parasite ever since you arrived in Cairo.”
“Parasite,” Isadora repeated faintly. She snapped her book shut andstood up, her back stiffening in cold fury, and strode to the compartment door, angrily sliding it open. Without another word, she stalked off in the direction of the dining car.
“Go and apologize, Mr. Hayes,” I said.
“Why should I?” he muttered. “It’s only too true. She almost got you killed the other night.”
I leaned forward. “She is my sister.Family. If you insist on staying, following me around everywhere because of some misguided attempt to make it up to me, or to be reconciled—which will never happen—”
“That’s not why I’m here,” he snapped.
I lifted a brow. “Right. Of course. You’re here because of the alchemical sheet.”
Whit folded his arms across his chest, the press of his mouth a flat, mutinous line.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I whispered. “If it were me or the Chrysopoeia, I know the choice you would make. You’ve made that clear, unless there’s something I’m missing. Something you can’t orwon’tsay.”
He stayed silent, and I kicked his side of the bench. “Well?”
He lifted his eyes, met mine levelly. “You don’t really want me to answer that.”
“No, I guess I don’t.” I rubbed my eyes tiredly. “Will you please go and say that you’re sorry?”
He eyed me wearily. “It’s that important to you?”
“Sí. Ahora, por favor.”
Whit left me with my thoughts, and my gaze dropped to my canvas bag. I never went anywhere without it, and if I was going to sit here, I might as well do something useful. With a little sigh, I rummaged through the various items tucked inside: pencils, extra candlesticks and matches, and finally, my journal and that of my mother’s. I pulled both out and flipped through the pages of the latter, reading bits and pieces until the words swam across my vision.
Mamá’s journal was thick, and I still hadn’t studied every page in depth; the beginning section interested me the most. She had plenty of sketches, some of them half-finished, some of them finished in color.She had a penchant for drawing statues. I came across the nine muses from Greek mythology; Cerberus, the three-headed dog who guarded the entrance to the underworld; and then a man I didn’t recognize. At first glance, it looked like Hades, especially with the three-headed dog at his feet. But he wore a crown I’d never seen before and carried a staff that I’d never associated with the god of the world below.
Curious, I retrieved a pencil from within my bag and sketched the intriguing god and his dog, sitting on a peculiar structure. The sketch done, I closed my journal and tucked everything back into my canvas bag. Whit still hadn’t returned, and I contemplated going to search for them. Just to make sure they were still alive.
The thought didn’t amuse me.
Frowning, I stared out the window. We had left the city far behind, replaced by long stretches of golden sand that glimmered under the brutal rays of sunlight. The train cut through the unforgivable terrain, and with every mile crossed, I wondered where we were going to sleep, and how we were going to eat.
And just how long we would last, searching for my mother with limited funds and short tempers, and with two people who couldn’t stand the sight of each other.
I sighed, leaning back against the seat as a sea of cotton fields, villages, and gorgeous mountains enclosing the Nile River swept past my window. The train rumbled onward, my worries chasing me every foot of the journey to Alexandria. The bride of the Mediterranean. But I enjoyed none of the scenery.
Instead, I tried not to despair.
WHIT
I started after Isadora, watching her skirt swish as she hustled toward the dining car. She sat at one of the available tables, hands primly folded on the tablecloth. Her posture was perfect, but I knew the secrets that could be hidden behind perfect manners.
I sat down across from her, scowling. “It’s time we have a chat.”
“I’m busy at the moment,” she said coolly. “I’m going to have my tea.”
“I want to know what game you’re playing.”
Isadora raised her brows faintly. “Game?”
