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“I’ll wait while you come up with a plausible explanation.” He scowled. “A lie, most likely.”

I backed up another step. Whit remained motionless, coldly furious. His arms were still folded tight across his broad chest. I always forgot how he towered over me, his presence taking up so much space I could see nothing else but him.

“There was no one in my room last night.”

He pressed his lips together into a flat line. “Bullshit.”

“Even if there were, it would be none of your business.”

His fingers dug into his arms. “Why are you here, Olivera?”

Whit’s question caught me off guard. My mind scrambled in a million directions, and my palms began to sweat. I couldn’t figure out why he’d ask me that question. He sounded suspicious—as if I had something to hide, and not the other way around.

I fought to keep my voice calm. “I’m here to learn what happened to my parents. I’m here because I want to find Cleopatra.”

“That so?”

I nodded.

Whit took a step forward. “I think you’re hiding something from all of us.”

Anger pulsed in my throat. How dare he try to corner me like this when he kept secretsprofessionally? He knew that my parents hadn’t gotten lost in the desert, just like he knew that my uncle was just as corrupt as the antiquity officers he supposedly hated. The hypocrisy galled me. I threaded my hands through my hair. It chafed against me, to remain silent when I wanted to scream. The words sat on my tongue, burning. I gave in to the flames, the insistent roar that demanded Idosomething, and skirted around Whit.

He followed after me. “Damn it, Olivera! We are not finished with this conversation.”

Nimbly, I rounded a column, intent on losing him, and ducked into a small room that opened to another even smaller room. The minute I stepped foot inside, the taste of roses burst in my mouth. I stopped and Whit crashed into me. I fell forward, but he wrapped a strong arm around my waist.

“Are you all right?” He released me and gently placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face him. He peered down at me. “What’s happened? What is it? You’ve gone pale.”

I couldn’t even pretend to hide it from him. The thrumming under my skin felt faint, as if it were a magic from a distant land, beckoning me home. I shifted under the weight of his gaze and walked slowly around the chamber, tilting my head, sensitive to every subtle shift in the magical current flooding my veins.

“I thought you didn’t feel anything in the temple,” Whit said. “You’re shaking. What thehellis happening?”

“I didn’t walk this far inside. Never made it to this room the first time. It’s very faint.” He blinked. I wasn’t making sense. I let out an impatient sigh. “Whit, Ifeelmagic.”

His lips parted. “There must be something here, then.”

In unison, we began a search, examining every corner, studying each of the stones. But I came up with nothing. No sign of Isis’s cartouche carved into the walls.

“Holy shit, Olivera. Come look at this.”

I was arrested by an intricate painting of a banquet. I wished I understood more hieroglyphs. “Just to be clear, you addressing me by my family name is observing proper decorum? And cursing?”

“Will you just walk over to me, please? Preferably with less cheek. Thank you,” he added at my approach.

“This way is much better.”

He blinked. “What way, exactly?”

“This version of yourself, which I suspect is closer to who you were before.”

“Beforewhat?”

“Before you were dishonorably discharged.”

He stared down at me with dawning outrage. There was an exasperated curve to his mouth. “You’re so…”

“Forthright?” I supplied helpfully.