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I slowly moved away from the railing. Turned and walked back to his cabin, replacing the journal I had taken. Then I went to my cabin in a kind of trance. I would see this through.

Come what may.

WHIT

The rope burned against my palm. Underneath my feet, the deck dipped and rocked, and I bent my knees to keep from tumbling. The rest of the crew worked the sails, trying to use the wind to help us navigate the storm without any damage to the dahabeeyah. Reis Hassan called out orders, the sound drowned out by my rapid heartbeat slamming against my ribs.

The boat shuddered. The wood cracked and groaned, but I held on to the rope. Every gust of wind pushed us onto the banks. Any moment I was sure the rocks would do enough damage to run us aground. I thought about the chemistry books my sister had sent me, the ones I wouldn’t have time to save if the water buried us. They had tethered me to her. She had always known about my love of the sciences, my desire to know how the world worked. I pulled harder on the rope, not wanting to lose that connection to her.

The crew rushed around in a dizzying blur wearing tight and worried frowns.

A fleeting thought of Olivera stole across my mind. I’d promised nothing would happen to her. Irritation pulled my mouth into a sharp grimace. I had no business making any promises to her.

The only girl I had a right to think about was the one back in England.

CAPÍTULO DIECISIETE

The knock on the door came hours later. I’d been pacing through the night, unable to sit or sleep or rest.My uncle was a murderer.The thought hadn’t left me once, a never-ending chorus to a song I never wanted to hear again. A part of me wished I’d never read my mother’s journal at all. My imagination had created a nightmare of my parents’ last moments on earth. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the two of them might have followed my uncle as he led them deeper into the desert, trusting him with their lives. Never suspecting that he’d leave them out there to burn under the sun.

That was the only way their deaths made sense. Mamá and Papá were too smart to go out there on their own.

The knock came again.

Whit stood on the other side in his customary rumpled state, but perhaps a trifle more so. His whole body seemed to exhale at the sight of me. His perusal was thorough; his gaze raked over me as if he wanted to assure himself I was hale and whole. I knew exactly what he saw: tired eyes, tense jaw, slumped shoulders.

The storm had been awful. But what I learned last night had truly wrecked me.

He bent his knees so he could stare into my eyes. “Are you all right? You look exhausted.”

“Estoy bien,” I croaked, surprised I could manage to speak at all. I had screamed into my pillow, overwhelmed by my uncle’s betrayal.

I cried through the night. When the morning came, I told myself I wouldn’t shed another tear until I discovered the truth about their deaths.

And then, somehow, I would ruin Tío Ricardo.

“You’ve been summoned,” Whit said without preamble.

“Is it over?” More croaking. “Is everyone all right?”

“We’re all in a right state, but yes.”

I sagged against the doorframe. There was that, at least.

“TheElephantinesurvived the winds without any serious issues,” he said, his voice curiously gentle. “We’re approaching Aswan. While the crew is purchasing supplies, we’ll take refreshments at the Old Cataract Hotel. They have the best hibiscus tea in the desert. You’ll love it. Abdullah and his granddaughter will be there to meet us. Have I mentioned her before? The photographer? Yes? You’ll get along fine with Farida, she has a lot of opinions. The view of the Nile from the terrace will be spectacular, and I highly recommend bringing your sketch pad, Olivera.”

He gestured with his hands while he talked, and something caught my attention.

“Whit,” I murmured. “Your palms.” They were red, a few angry blisters marring his palms.

I reached for them, but he stuffed both into his pockets and leaned back on his heels, creating a wider distance between us. I frowned, not understanding why he suddenly didn’t want to breathe the same air, why he suddenly didn’t seem to want to be around me.

“Be ready in ten minutes,” he said. “Please.”

“Are you being polite?” I asked, aghast.

He strode away.

“I guess not,” I muttered, blinking after him, watching the long line of his back as he disappeared down the corridor and out of sight. He didn’t look back, didn’t slow his abrupt departure. I turned away and collected my things, and went off to the deck, encountering the entire staff and crew gathered at the railing in silent contemplation.