Where the Library Hides (Secrets of the Nile #2)

by Isabel Ibañez

Papá always wished I’d slow down to pay attention to the details I constantly overlooked. I heard his dry voice in my mind, gently chiding. When you’re moving fast, hijita, it’s easy to miss what’s right in front of you.

And I needed to get married.

He used his index finger to tip my chin upward. “I wouldn’t change my mind about marrying you, Inez.” “This is probably a terrible idea,” I said. “Isn’t it?” “Yes,” he said softly. “But the best option we have, right?”

“Proposing to you was my choice and no one else’s,” he said. “In the utter chaos of my life, you are the only thing that makes sense. You asked me what my reasons are, and I don’t know all of them yet, but I do know one important thing.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving my face, and the raw emotion lurking in their depths almost keeled me over. “You’re the one I want, Inez.” My lips parted. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Please make me the happiest man on this earth.”

“Whitford Hayes, I will honor and protect you but only obey you if you’re being reasonable. Actually, you might expect me not to obey you at all. It goes against my nature, and I’d prefer to begin marriage by being honest.” His lips twitched in response. Fortified, I pressed on. “I will be faithful, and I will respect you—unless you do something unworthy of it, then God help you.” I thought Whit would laugh, but he remained silent. “In sickness and in health, I will be yours for all the days of my life.”

“Inez, I will honor and protect you and lay down my life for you. In sickness and in health, I will be by your side.” He gave me a faint smile. “And I promise I will never expect obedience from you.”

“And what about you? Are you ready?” He gave me a slow smile, tender and rueful. “Since Philae, Inez.”

I’d been falling in love with Whit slowly, under the river’s surface, in a lost burial chamber, in a makeshift tent, on a boat. By the time he held me in the dark of the tomb, it was irrevocable. “I’m ready,” I whispered. “I’ve been ready for a long time. This is what I want. You and me.”

“Has anyone ever told you how hard you are on yourself?” “Has anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to believe the best in people?”

His voice was a murderous whisper. “No one is going to dictate my life, Inez.” He tugged me close, and I placed my ear over his heart. The rhythm was steady. “No one.” I believed him.

“Actually, what do you think about going through his room while we’re gone?”

I saw so much of Inez in him I couldn’t quite meet his accusing eyes. I knew one day she’d look at me the same if my plan failed.

“I know what I’m doing,” I said finally. “I have a plan.” “Which is?” “None of your business.” “She’s my niece.” “I know,” I said. “And she’s my wife.” A muscle ticked in Ricardo’s jaw. “If you hurt her…” He didn’t need to finish. I understood perfectly.

“Who attacked the camp?” Abdullah licked his dry lips. “It was Mr. Fincastle.”

None of it was true. Why, then, did my uncle insist on hiding my mother’s journal? And even more curious, why would he keep it at all?

had no idea they had abandoned me for longer stretches of time when I was baby. Why didn’t they care to be with me?

“Her mummy. My father took her, too.”

Mr. Fincastle had stolen Cleopatra.

Father had an affair with a married woman.”

my mother was gone for half the year, every year, for some mysterious job in South America.” “South America?” I repeated dumbly. “In Argentina.”

Were we both doomed to become like our mother? Repeat her same mistakes? Hurt people without thought or consideration? The idea terrified me. Because I knew if I looked into the mirror, it wouldn’t be my face reflected back at me.

“She’s my wife.”

“Cleopatra the alchemist is rumored to have written down how to make the stone on a single sheet of parchment. This legendary sheet is called Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra, and on it, she had drawn an Ouroboros.”

“The Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra has instructions on how to turn lead into gold.”

“Alchemy and chemistry are related subjects? Isn’t one predominately magical, the other scientific?” “In some schools of thought, those two are one and the same. Alchemy was the precursor to chemistry. Invented right here in Egypt.”

Because the chit was lying. I had no proof—only instinct.

Mr. Fincastle had either sent his daughter away before he’d acted or Isadora was a part of the plan.

I hadn’t been able to look at myself in the mirror since I’d married Inez.

I had time. Plenty of time. But even with the reminder, I still couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.

“You care for this girl,” my brother said in a marveling tone. “Your wife.” “If I did,” I said, “I wouldn’t have married her.”

But I’d forgotten how desperation made monsters of men.

I had been fooled on every level by Whitford Hayes, starting with any warmth and tenderness I had imagined in his gaze. I relived every moment that I’d had with him. Every kindness, every soft word, every promise. All lies.

“Your words are cheap. They mean nothing.”

Like my father, my brother wasn’t affectionate. Except when it was absolutely necessary. Evidently stealing from one’s wife warranted a hug.

My expression shifted, and my brother stiffened. Anger bled out of me. I’d made a commitment to Inez; I’d given my word. I wouldn’t desert her, not after marrying her. I meant every word of my vows until she said otherwise. “There’s nothing for you here.” “How about my wife?” “Do you still have one?”

Not only had I been wrong about Whit, but I’d been incredibly stupid.

Isadora narrowed her eyes at me. “You like to rush headlong into situations before really thinking them through, don’t you?” “I’m told it’s one of my more exasperating traits,” I admitted.

I’d rather visit him in prison than at his grave.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit South America.”

why does isodora want to go to Argentina ?

That night, he’d spoken vows of protecting me. That had been the gist. Disappointment clouded my vision, and I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see my watery eyes. At no point did he promise to love me. He had been warning me, even then.

people were often afraid to tell themselves the truth. They would rather lie, would rather deny, would rather ignore what was right in front of them.

Whit was still in Egypt, not because he was honoring his vows, not because he wanted to help me, but because he wanted to find Cleopatra’s Chrysopoeia. He might have some misguided sense of obligation toward me, some sense of the responsibility that lay on his shoulders. He might even pity me. Either way, that was what was motivating him now.

I sensed a figure brush past, dropping coins as they went. The money clattered against the wood of the coffee table, and I glanced up sharply in time to see the shadow of someone slinking out of the room, nearly made invisible by the curls of smoke and patrons crowding the entrance. I jumped to my feet, quickly counting the amount, realizing a moment later it was exactly what I owed.

isodora? lourdes?

both women sleeping on the bed, ensconced in the mosquito netting.

was isodora sleeping?

Her words from an earlier conversation swept through my mind—and I realized that she’d rather her mother be in prison than buried underground. The feeling was mutual.

I had recognized one of them. My crafty wife.

“You are the most…” Whit’s voice trailed off. “Never mind.” “This is why you wanted to talk to me?” I asked coolly. “To insult me?” “I wasn’t thinking of an insult,” Whit said softly.

“I’m asking my wife.”

But I was beginning to understand how yearning for my parents, wanting their attention, and missing them terribly when they were gone half the year while traveling in Egypt had shaped me into the person that I was now. It was why I craved a family, a sense of belonging. To fit somewhere.

Isadora picked up the gun and tucked it into her belt. “You are so violent.” It sounded like a compliment.