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A loud cry escaped me. I slapped my hand over my mouth, trying to quiet my sobs. Confusion and grief warred within me. I didn’t understand why she’d left me, why she had made me believe that we were going together.

“Olivera?”

I froze, tears still streaming down my face. Whit stood on the other side of the rustling curtain, his bare feet visible. I bit down on my lip, trying to remain silent.

“Olivera, I can hear you,” he said quietly. “Are you all right?”

I fought to keep my voice steady, but failed. “Go away, Whit.”

He dragged the fabric to one side and stepped inside, blinking in the dim light. His gaze dropped to the ground where I sat huddled on the rug. Whit sank to his knees beside me and reached for me, pulling me close to his side. The strong line of his leg pressed against mine.

“Inez,” he whispered. “I’ll go if you want me to, but I need to know if you’re all right. Are you hurt?”

“I think my heart is broken,” I whispered.

He wrapped his arms around me, his thumb drawing circles at the small of my back. The caress loosened the awful knot in my chest, unraveling it slowly. I breathed easier, and my tears slowed. Whit had never been this gentle with me. This patient. He waited without pushing for more. It was a side of him I’d never seen but knew existed. His breath was free of whiskey, his eyes were clear. I hadn’t seen him drink in weeks, not since losing his flask in the river.

Whit’s confession lingered between us.

It goes both ways.

Energy like the oldest kind of magic zipped through my body. I let myselfsink into the moment. Because the minute I opened my mouth, I knew everything would be different. The truth had a way of changing things. Slowly, I slid my hand across his chest, felt his steady heartbeat under my palm.

I would allow one more breath before I pulled away. But then he used his index finger to tip my chin up, and our eyes met in the soft light. His blue eyes dropped to my mouth and I shivered. He was going to kiss me, and I wouldn’t do a thing to stop it, even though I should. He was going to hate me afterward, but at least I’d have one memory of a perfect moment. He shut his eyes and exhaled, and when he opened them again, his hands gently moved me farther away, creating a slither of space.

“Will you tell me what’s upset you?”

“I want to,” I said. “But I’m afraid to.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said. “Not ever.”

Whit waited, his expression open and guileless.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” I said. “I don’t know how much you know, how involved you are with… everything, but I’m tired of keeping secrets. Of lying.” I licked my dry lips, keeping my gaze focused on my lap. “Two weeks ago, that night you heard someone in my room, I found out my mother was alive.”

Whit tensed.

“She told me Tío Ricardo was involved in an illegal smuggling trade of Egyptian artifacts. His active participation with Tradesman’s Gate.”

“That’s a lie,” he whispered fiercely.

“How do you know?” I demanded.

He hesitated and I plunged on. “I believed her,” I said, shrugging helplessly. “She’s mymother. Why would she say that if it weren’t true?”

Whit averted his gaze, jaw clenched. “What else did she tell you?”

“She asked for my help. My mother, who I thought had died, asked me to help her.” I licked my lips. “So, I did.”

Whit’s words were hushed, laced with dread and foreboding. “What did you do, Inez?”

I squeezed my eyes, scared to meet his gaze. “I shrunk many artifacts inside Cleopatra’s tomb these past couple of weeks, and gave them to her. The plan was to take everything into Cairo, and entrust it to the EgyptianMuseum. We were going to involve the Antiquities Service, and I was hoping they’d come to put a stop to my uncle’s treachery.”

Whit clenched his fists.

“I packed my things,” I whispered, “and met her down by the river earlier tonight. And then she left me here, taking all of the artifacts with her. My mother left me a letter”—I gave it to him—“but now… you’re telling me that she lied to me.”

“She absolutely did,” he said through clenched teeth.