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Two women stood before her on the opposite side of the table, dressed elegantly but diminished in comparison to Cleopatra’s lavish ensemble. They were a reflection of her beauty and grace. I instinctively knew they were her handmaidens.

One of them asked a question, the ancient language whisking over my skin. I wished I understood.

Cleopatra didn’t pause in her work but nodded.

The shorter handmaiden asked another question.

Cleopatra replied, her voice distinct. It didn’t waver; it wasn’t soft. It was the kind of voice that soothed and inspired, that ordered and coaxed.

The scene faded, as if a page had turned. I came back into awareness slowly, the sound of the crew singing helping to usher me into the present. For several seconds, I could only breathe as the horror of what I’d seen resonated in my mind.

Cleopatra was adept at magic. The scene I had witnessed was her creating a spell. I groaned, wishing I knew what she had been doing. Her manner had been confident. She was no stranger to potion making.

A prickle of awareness crept across my skin. Someone was watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I stuffed the trinket box back into my bag, my heart beating rapidly against my ribs. I spun, my gaze darting around the deck. I was hidden behind the mast, surrounded by old barrels, but alarm bells rang loudly in my ears.

There was no one.

Not the crew who worked at their posts, nor the reis or my uncle, who at last had emerged from the saloon. I moved and peered around the strong wood of the mast. Mr. Hayes had settled himself at the front of the dahabeeyah, a lazy grace in the way he leaned against the railing of theElephantine. He stared wistfully in the direction of Cairo.

I wondered if he regretted leaving me behind.

What asillythought. It didn’t matter if he did or didn’t. I shook my head, forcing the unbidden question from my mind. I snapped around and sank to the ground. The gentle breeze made me drowsy and my eyelids fluttered closed. When I opened them again, a shadow blocked the sun’s piercing glare.

Kareem stared down at me, a bowl of food in his hand. “Are you hungry?”

I nodded and he handed me the food, two eggs and the foul—which didn’t taste nearly as salty as mine had. The savory taste of cumin and garlic gave me a warm feeling that swept to every corner of my body. I wanted more but refrained from asking. Instead, I followed him back to the kitchen and helped scrub the dishes in a big, soapy bucket.

He kept me busy for the rest of the day, prepping the noon meal of breaded fish topped with charred lemons and a side of roasted eggplants in a thick, savory sauce, and the cleanup afterward. As the hours passed, more tension slipped away as if carried off by the north wind, little by little. With the distance widening between our location and Cairo, it was unlikely my uncle would turn us all around. I still didn’t know when or how to reveal myself.

Tío Ricardo would be furious no matter how I did it.

Worry pricked at me. What would he do when he found out? I’d focusedso much on getting on board that I neglected to imagine what came after. I had heard his bitter anger when he talked about Papá standing in the way of what he wanted. And here I was, disobeying him.

Without anyone I could trust to help me.

“Do you want to help me serve dinner in the saloon?” Kareem asked, wrenching me from my thoughts.

My instinct was to refuse but curiosity yanked hard on my mind. Everyone would be in the dining room, eating and talking at their leisure. Perhaps I’d catch another glimpse of the mysterious girl who had come aboard. There might be an opportunity to listen to their discussion, which could fill in some of the gaps in my uncle’s activities. Presumably, my parents had participated in his excavations, and I might learn something of what they were up to in the days leading to their disappearance.

Kareem looked at me, waiting for my answer. All day, he’d helped me remain unseen and unnoticed by the rest of the crew. Though he never said, I wondered if he had done it because of my parents.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

Kareem walked ahead of me into the empty saloon, carrying two dishes filled with kushari, alentil- andpasta-based dish with tomato sauce and rice. In my hands I carried a large pitcher of mint limeade, which I’d already sampled and could confirm was refreshing and delicious. We dropped off the dishes in the center of the table, and I followed Kareem to stand at a discreet distance from the table, where the other servers waited. I kept my head down as another crew member filled the team’s glasses.

The party entered, chattering quietly, and sat down at a round table in the lush saloon, all of them men except for the young woman I had seen earlier. There were four of them, only two I knew. My uncle pored over a letter curled in his palm while Mr. Hayes engaged in a tense argument with the brawny gentleman who had accompanied the young woman. Kareem motioned for me to stand behind a particularly tall attendant alongside the wall. I was neatly hidden, and incredibly thankful none of the crew knew who I was. I stared at the tips of my leather boots barely peeking from underneath the long tunic.

“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” Mr. Hayes said. “What does the letter say?”

“From your foreman?” the brawny man asked in an English accent. He dwarfed everyone else at the table, long limbed and big boned. His posture belied a fondness for sharp lines and rules. His movements were exact and precise as he served himself. The girl’s slight frame seemed like a dandelion compared to his stature. One strong wind might uproot her.

And yet her pale gaze seemed to miss nothing. Flickering from the table to the windows lining the curved wall, to her dining companions. She was a fidgety thing.

“No, it’s from Abdullah,” Tío Ricardo said. “They’ve managed to discover another entryway leading out from the antechamber. It’s heavily blocked by debris, however.” He frowned at the message. “Which likely means wherever this entrance leads has already been discovered and looted of anything notable. We can only hope that any reliefs were left undamaged.”

“Doubtful,” said the larger man. “Thieves have learned how much money they can earn from the carved reliefs. Especially poor Egyptians.”

“I’m not paying you for your opinions,” Tío Ricardo said, his voice sharp edged.