PROLOGUE
West bank of the Nile, outside of Luxor 1904
The young man wiped the beads of sweat off his brow and blinked up at the wavering horizon. The unforgiving sun had been blazing down on him all day, but he’d been unable to tear himself from his work. Dust covered every inch of his skin, his neck was burned from the sun, and his khakis were stained from the ochre sand. But as he stared down at the uncovered ruin before him, every physical ailment melted away.
A lost world right beneath his fingertips. History, long covered by the earth, now seeing the sunlight for the first time in thousands of years. His heart near beat out of his chest for the wonder of it all.
He stood and arched his back, pulling off the wide-brimmed hat that was meant to protect him from the relentless sun. A canvas of stone and sand stretched before him. He would be returning to Luxor in a few days to meet with the leader of his expedition. Every morning, he thanked whatever it was—God, the stars, fate, or simply Lady Luck—that he’d found his way into the employ of an eccentric Italian who had taken him here. Egypt was like no place he’d ever been before. Not the wilds of his homeland, a world away across the sea, nor the busy streets of London that he’d traveled to in search of employment.
Egypt could throw everything she had at him: blistering sunburns, sand in every crevice of his body, agonizing days with no discovery to be found. But when he looked down at the broken slab he’d just carefully unearthed with a brush and scalpel, it was all worth it.
It may just be a piece of rock with a carved hieroglyph to someone else, but to him, it felt like his own version of magic.
The rest of the archaeological team, dressed in matching sun-faded khaki, busied about him. The rhythmical clink of pickaxes striking the hard earth filled the air, sometimes cut with the call of a desert bird. Camels milled around the dig, carrying canteens of water and fresh fruit brought in from Luxor.
“Nice-looking find.” Someone clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, and the young man turned to see his colleague, Samuel Rowell, smiling at him. Samuel’s large, round head matched his large, round body. He was experienced on digs and had taken the young man under his wing.
“Finally got this part clear of the sand.” The man bent down and pointed to the hieroglyph on the slab.
“What does it say?” Samuel asked.
“I don’t know. Beautiful, isn’t it?” The man trailed a hand along the image. It seemed to whisper to him in a voice he couldn’t understand.
“Boss says there’s likely a tomb nearby. Keep your head down and eyes peeled.” Samuel’s gaze drifted to the side, and he crossed his arms. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?” the man asked, still unable to take his eyes off the hieroglyph.
“She’sback again,” Samuel muttered. “That nosey broad from last week.”
“Who?”
“Ah, you lucky bastard, you were in Luxor with the boss and didn’t have to deal with her. She came to the site and started digging right where we were working! I told her to scram, and she laughed in my face. It’s no place for a woman here, that’s for certain, and definitely not a smart-mouthed one like her.”
The man raised an eyebrow, imagining Samuel’s usual red face becoming even more beet-like while in confrontation with this woman.
“I had to deal with her last week,” Samuel groaned. “Your turn. Tell her to get out of here.”
“I’m busy!” the man exclaimed, gesturing back to the ruin.
Samuel gave him another clap on the shoulder. “You’ll be busier if she steals one of our discoveries and the boss finds out that you let her on site. Off you go.”
The young man sighed, staring longingly at his work, desperate to give a shot at trying to interpret the hieroglyph. “I’ll be back for you,” he muttered and headed off in the direction of the woman.
Her back was to him, and she was bent over in the sand on the edge of the dig, an open case of tools at her side. A camel stood quietly nearby, loaded with canteens, a bag overfilled with textbooks, and even more tools. She was certainly prepared.
The young man’s feet sank into the soft sand as he approached. She didn’t turn around as he stood behind her. She wore tight-fitting khaki pants and a white blouse, with tall leather boots covered in dust. Her curly brown hair was pulled into a ribbon at the nape of her neck. He cleared his throat. She didn’t turn.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
Again, ignored.
“Ma’am?”
She didn’t budge, instead busying herself with a scalpel now, clearing away some of the debris from whatever she was working on. Fed up and eager to get back to his own project, the man looked at the sun behind him and adjusted his position, causing his shadow to stream over her work.
“Do. You.Mind?!”the woman snarled and turned.
Their eyes met and the man blinked. Her expression was filled with anger but to him it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He had gazed upon the tomb of Tutankhamen, flown in a hot air balloon above the Serengeti, traveled by sea across the Atlantic, and yet no wonder could compare. Her nose twitched with her scowl, brown eyes flashing golden in the sun.
