Had he seen her before? No, and yet, it was as if she’d lived within his mind for all his life. Like every piece of him was crying out,I’ve been waiting for you!
He was in love. That had to be it. What else could it be? Love at first sight. He’d thought such a thing only a silly idea from children’s fairytales. But this felt as it had when he uncovered his first ruin. Like sunlight hitting a place that had been hidden in the dark for a thousand years.
Magic.
Her nose stopped twitching. The dark brows, jutting down, softened and her lips parted into an O.
The man would not be surprised if a hundred years passed and they became covered in sand again, for time stilled between them.
Then she whispered, “You’re in my light.”
With a certainty he had never felt in his twenty-five years, the man replied, “Youaremy light.”
Yes, this was true love, and she felt it, too—
The woman burst out laughing. “Excuse me?”
The man stopped. Caught himself.Youaremy light? What does that even mean? Heavens to Betsy, I’ve been in the sun too long.
He shook his head and tore his gaze from hers, afraid he’d get lost again in whateverthatwas.That was heatstroke, that’s whatthatwas.
“This is a closed dig, ma’am. You’re not allowed to be here. This site belongs to Mr. Schiaparelli.” There. That’s what he was supposed to say, and he’d said it. Good. He turned to leave—
She laughed again. It was brash, a donkey’s bray. It was the damned most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.
“This site doesn’tbelongto anyone. How can youownhistory? How can you own the languages and the religions and the past that is carved into this stone?” She turned around. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m quite busy actually discovering something useful, instead of just carving up rock to shove in a glass box.”
The man sighed and looked back at Samuel, who was busying himself plucking dates out of a jar. He had tried to send her packing. What else could he do? His own work awaited—
He bent down beside her. “What are you working on?”
She gave him a sidelong look. He offered a genuine smile, as a peace gesture, and she returned it with a relenting sigh. Before her was a sun-washed slab of broken stone. She’d assembled the pieces like a puzzle. “I’ve been looking for these segments for days. See how they fit together? Once I have the last section, I’ll be able to read it.”
“You can interpret the hieroglyphs?”
A smile broke across her lips. “Yes. I have a special interest in languages.”
He stared down at the pieces, the middle missing. One empty spot. But he recognized the shape, the jutting bit here, the indent there. “I’ll be right back.”
Carefully, ever so carefully, the young man returned a few minutes later, carrying the slab he’d uncovered. Her eyes widened as she saw it. With deft fingers, he slotted it right between the other pieces.
“It fits,” she whispered.
“Well?” he urged. “What does it say?”
She traced the symbols. “Roughly, it says … Here lies the Queen.”
They met each other’s gaze. “It’s true,” he whispered. “This is the Valley of the Queens.”
Her eyes glittered. “That’s why I’m here.”
Then she quickly packed her tool kit, stood, and walked to her camel. “A brilliant discovery always makes me hungry. I must go back to the city now.” In a fluid movement, she mounted the beast and her shadow fell over the man, her eyes sparkling like chips of gold.
“Wait!” the man cried. “Will I see you again?”
Her voice was light, as if she knew something wonderful that he didn’t. “Oh, you won’t be able to keep me away.”
As she drew the reins, her white blouse shifted, and the sunlight caught a necklace she wore. It shimmered every color of the rainbow, a luminescent flash of light. The man squinted against the gleam. A rose.
