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“I’m not leaving you. I won’t do it.”

Mamá shut her eyes, resigned. “Why I haven’t been able to curb your stubbornness, I’ll never know. Inez, this isn’t Argentina. I allowed you some freedom, but I won’t here.”

I took her hand. “I thought I lost you. Let me help you.”

She opened her eyes, visibly weighing what to say. “Do you know who your uncle hopes to find on Philae?”

I nodded. “Cleopatra. He thinks she might be buried under Trajan’s Kiosk; that’s where they’ve been tunneling.”

“And do you understand the enormity of such a discovery? Finding the last pharaoh of Egypt is akin to finding the Holy Grail. It’s every archaeologist’s dream. One of the most important discoveries, second, maybe, to that of Alexander the Great or Nefertiti. The artifacts found in her tomb will be worth millions on the black market. Your uncle can’t be allowed to sell such priceless art at Tradesman’s Gate.”

“Gate? What gate?Oh!You mean the card,” I breathed. “I found it in your hotel room. There’s an illustration of a gate on one side.”

“It’s an illegal exchange of artifacts,” she said in a hushed voice. “Most times, the Curators—who are known as the tradesmen—run an auction with buyers. But the metaphoricalgatealways changes location, and it’s very hard to attend unless you have an invitation.”

“And this is what you’ve been doing,” I said. “Trying to track down the moving gate, trying to stop Tío Ricardo from participating.”

Mamá nodded. She tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “This situation is too much for you. If anything were to happen to you…”

“But you can’t stop him on your own,” I whispered-yelled. “He’s close to finding her, I think. I felt the magic myself.”

Mamá furrowed her brow. “Magia? Qué magia?”

“From the golden ring Papá sent.”

She remained silent, staring at me with a confused expression on her face. Her bafflement turned to profound shock. “A ring?” she repeated dumbly.

“The one he mailed me,” I prompted. “The one belonging to Cleopatra?”

“Of course.” Her brow cleared, and she nodded. “That one. I’d forgotten he’d sent that to you for safekeeping. That was months ago, shortly before he… He must have known…” Her words trailed off. She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. “What about it?”

“Well, when I first put it on my finger, I felt the magic seep into my skin. Some of the energy transferred tome.I’ve put together that Cleopatra herself had performed a spell to preserve her memories. The leftover magic recognizes anything connected to her and the spell she performed. I think the most powerful object to have traces of the magic is attached to the golden ring.”

“That makes sense,” she mused. “If it had remained undiscovered for thousands of years, the magic had nowhere else to go until very recently. Very few people would have had the opportunity to handle the ring.”

Her expression turned thoughtful.

“What is it?”

“There might be a way to stop him,” she whispered so softly, as if talking only to herself. “But it would mean putting you in harm’s way. Your uncle will be watching you and I’m not sure if it’s wise for you to get involved.”

“It’s too late,” I said. “I’m already involved.”

My mother sounded terribly sad. “I know.”

“I was planning on rummaging through his room, seeing if I could find any clues to what happened to you. But maybe there’s something else I could find? Something that might help us?” A sudden thought struck me. “Did you know he has your journals?”

A muscle in her jaw jumped. “I didn’t, but it doesn’t surprise me. He’d be looking for anything that might paint him in an unfavorable light. He can’t afford to lose his firman.”

“All the more reason why I should snoop inside his room.”

She shook her head. “You mustn’t draw attention to yourself. Promise me that you won’t go looking. There’s too much at stake.”

“But—”

This time, she sounded more like herself. Stern and uncompromising. “Promise me.”

I gave her a jerky nod.