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And then she heard the door fly open behind her.

"Cleopatra!" he called.

This name. To hear him call her this name. This name that soon might no longer be hers. It caused her steps to falter enough that he caught up with her.

"No," he said, anguish in his voice. "You mustn't run. You must not! If you think you'll spare me further pain, you're wrong. For nothing could be worse than being returned to my grief for you. Whatever this curse that ails you, whatever you fear, I will be here for you throughout all of it."

"You cannot say these things," she managed through tears. "You don't know what they mean. You don't know what's to come!"

"Do you?" he asked. "Do you know what's to come? I don't sense certainty in you, Cleopatra. I sense confusion and the fear it breeds."

No words. She had no words with which to answer this.

"Every day since my return from Egypt has been a torment," he said. "I was a different man when I traveled there. And then I met you and it was as if all of my designs and ambitions were the hobbies of a boy. Childish things I had yet to put aside. I knew. I knew, Cleopatra. That there was something about you that could not be explained. Something that was possibly dark. Dangerous. Disruptive to everything I held dear.

"And still, I could not let you go. Even the darkest fantasies of what you were, of what you might be. They were not enough to make me let you go. This is what love is, isn't it? It's not a thing for which you clear a certain space in your life. It takes over your life, and all else must be made to fit to it, or the result is endless grief or a willful numbness that results in the death of your spirit before your body. I have seen this truth in the eyes of Julie and Ramsey. And I see it in your eyes when I look at you."

"You chain yourself to a sinking ship, Lord Rutherford," she whispered.

"No," he said, drawing so close to her his breath kissed her lips. "You are unsure of what you are. There is confusion in you. You fear this confusion will consume me. Destroy me. And what I say to you, what you must believe, is that you have already consumed me. And if you abandon me again, I will be destroyed."

She could not tell if she had fallen against him, or if he'd taken her in his arms. What did it matter? His embrace was sure. His embrace needed no other name. In his embrace, there was no confusion, no despair. No fear of the madness to come.

"I cannot remain here," she whispered. "I must withdraw from this world that I still don't fully understand."

"We shall go together, then," he said. "Anywhere you wish to go, I will go with you, my Bella Regina Cleopatra."

She took his face in her hands. Caressed him. Kissed him. Gave herself to him as he gave himself to her. It was gone, the desire to end his life that had been there only moments before. Gone and replaced by a need for him that was more than a simple hunger for escape.

"I'm so tired, Lord Rutherford," she whispered, "so very tired."

"Then rest in me," he whispered back. "Trust in me."

Part 4

44

Yorkshire

As soon as it began, Julie realized it wasn't going to be an interrogation so much as a polite questioning. Edith had insisted the detective conduct it right there in her room, with all of them gathered around her bed like nervous relatives eager to secure their piece of an inheritance from a dying elder. Perhaps this explained the detective's reserve; he was humbled by the presence of a countess.

Edith appeared collected and groomed for the moment, dressed in an ornate silk peignoir, her hair brushed back from her pale face to make a halo against the pillow. She looked positively angelic, and Julie was much relieved to see her so energized and restored after just two nights in this place.

It wasn't

a bustling hospital so much as a quaint village clinic, ill equipped for treating grievous injuries. And that was fitting, Julie thought, for none of the aristocrats who currently filled its rooms complained of anything more serious than shock and stress.

Still, she thought their current arrangement inappropriate and intrusive. But Edith had insisted. Now she could see why. The countess listened closely to every word out of the detective's mouth, hoping his new questions would reveal new information.

How fortunate she'd been able to reach Alex by telephone the day before!

If he hadn't told her so much of the detective's theory, the two of them would not have come so prepared. But now, Ramses could play the man like an instrument. Agreeing wholeheartedly with his claim that, yes, some sort of elaborate illusion had taken place, some hallucinogen married to a physical sleight of hand, all of it designed to distract from some crime yet to be determined. How else to explain the strange tunnel underneath the temple?

"And the African woman several have mentioned?" the detective asked.

Edith furrowed her brow. No such reaction from Alex, Julie was surprised to see. He sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes fixed on some point just over Julie's shoulder. Resolutely calm, it seemed.

"Ah, yes," Ramses said, "this was my friend, Abeba Bektul. She is an Ethiopian of noble birth. She traveled here just for our party, I'm afraid."