Mirage

by Monica Burns

  “A threat? Why would Alex be a threat to anyone?”

  “Because of the prophecy.”

  His jaw sagged. His mother had never believed in the Mazir prophecy, why would she start now? He shook his head as she faced him again, touching his cheek. The black embroidery edging the light blue material of her labbas reminded him of his childhood when he’d watched her stitch intricate patterns on all her dresses.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Altair. I married your father because I loved him, but I did not give up all the old ways because of it. I simply chose to let you form your own beliefs without my interference. Why do you think I allowed the old Viscount to take you from me when you were still a boy?”

  Raking a hand through his hair, he frowned. “I thought it was because you’d promised Father.”

  “Yes, I gave him my promise, but I also knew I had to let you find your way in the world. That meant sending you to England to secure the birthright you received from your father.”

  “I wanted no part of that. I was content to remain here.”

  “Experiences are the spectacles of intellect. If you had stayed here, your view of the world would have been limited. To find one’s place in life, one must experience all manner of things. It is the only way to know your true self and your destiny.”

  “As I recall, you’ve never left the desert,” he said with a touch of bitterness.

  “The love I experienced with your father was my destiny, and as short as our time was together, I regret not one moment of it. Jemal is a good husband and I love him, but he accepts that the love I shared with your father is a rare thing. Now you face your own destiny.”

  “You’re talking in riddles, Mother.”

  “Then let me make myself quite clear. I believe your destiny is tied to Alex, and she may very well be the one mentioned in the prophecy. If that’s true, then she may be in even greater danger than you realize.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Even as he spoke the words, he knew Alex was the one the Mazir had been waiting for. She would set Nourbese free and the Mazir would be blessed with Nourbese’s treasure. Denying it was pointless. He’d seen her find the city—fulfilling the prophecy was simply a matter of time.

  “Then ask yourself this. Who stands to gain if Alex doesn’t find Nourbese’s tomb? Answer that question and you’ll find the person trying to hurt her.”

  Thunderstruck, he stared at his mother. All along, he’d been trying to figure out why people who wanted to find the tomb would want Alex dead. He’d never considered the possibility that someone might not want her to find the tomb. He’d been a fool.

  The weight of her words rested uneasily on his shoulders. Still reeling from the realization that he’d been asking the wrong questions, he turned as Kahlil and Omar entered the tent.

  Short and stout, his old friend might look harmless, but he knew how handy Omar was in a fight. It had been one of the reasons he’d selected him for the task at hand. If Kahlil came to harm, it wouldn’t be due to his friend’s lack of skill as a fighter.

  “Greetings, Gameela. I trust you are well?” Omar bowed respectfully.

  “I am, thank you,” she said quietly.

  His mother returned to her seat and continued with her dinner preparations. To anyone who didn’t know her it would seem she had little care about the conversation occurring in her home. Altair knew differently. He could see the small furrow on her forehead that indicated how closely she was listening to the conversation.

  “Altair.” Omar grasped his arm in an ancient form of greeting. “Your brother says he needs to go to Cairo, and that you wish me to go with him.”

  “Yes. I know I can trust you to keep an eye on him. I don’t want him getting into any trouble.” A trusted friend from childhood, Omar smiled at him with cheerful openness. There was nothing suspicious in Omar’s gaze, and yet Altair hesitated. No, he couldn’t trust even his oldest friend. Alex was too important to him.

  “You’ll need to leave at dawn.”

  Omar chuckled and clasped Kahlil’s shoulder in an affectionate gesture. “Then we should pack our supplies and turn in.”

  “I need you to reach Cairo in two days.”

  “Two days?” Omar rubbed the back of his neck as he considered the request. “It will be difficult, but it can be done.”

  “Good. Once you reach Cairo, Kahlil will know what to do.” He hesitated. How far could he trust his old friend? “And one more thing. You are to tell no one that you are leaving, not the elders, not Medjuel, no one.”

  Omar furrowed his brow. “No one?”

  “Your lives and that of others depend on your remaining silent about this journey. Trust no one.”

  “It will be as you order.”

  Relieved by the loyalty threading his friend’s voice, Altair shook his head. Hands resting on Omar’s shoulders, he saw the gleam of determination in the black eyes studying him so quietly.

  “Not an order, my old friend, but a request that you have care with both your lives.”

  “I’ve never doubted your words before, Altair. I’ll not do so now.” Bowing toward Gameela, the stocky man left the tent.

  Kahlil watched the Bedouin walk away then turned to Altair. “Do you think him trustworthy, Altair?”

  “I do.” He pulled his gaze away from Omar’s receding figure. “But to be safe, you’re not to tell him why you’re going to Cairo. If he asks, simply tell him it’s family business.”

  “All right. And when we reach the city?”

  “You’re to go straight to the British Electric Telegraph office. I want you to send a wire to Lord Merrick at the British Museum with this message. Per-Ramesses is in Khatana-Qantir. Have found palace. Send team immediately. Reply with date of arrival.”

  “That’s all?”

  He flinched at the sickening lurch his stomach made. “Yes. He’ll act as soon as he gets the message. It might be three weeks before anyone arrives, but have supplies and transport ready so you can guide them here as soon as they arrive.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this, brother?” Touching his arm, Kahlil eyed him carefully. “Is there no other way to protect her?”

  The maturity in his brother’s voice surprised him. In the past eight months, Kahlil had developed perceptive faculties beyond his years. The boy would be a great leader. He turned his gaze back to his mother’s troubled expression. No, there was no other way to keep Alex safe. He wouldn’t breathe easy until the Museum’s team arrived.

  “There’s no other way.”

  “Then I’ll do as you ask.”

  Gratitude flowed through him at his brother’s support. One hand on Kahlil’s shoulder, he studied the youth’s face for a moment before embracing him in a brotherly hug. Releasing him, he sent Kahlil a stern look. “And you’re to be careful. Do everything Omar tells you. He’ll ensure you come to no harm.”

  His brother moved toward Gameela and knelt at her side. “I’ll be careful, Mother.”

  For a moment, she didn’t move. With an abrupt movement, she climbed to her feet and pulled her youngest son into her arms. She spoke no words, but Altair could read every emotion on her face as she met his gaze over Kahlil’s shoulder. The fear on her face made him bite the inside of his mouth. If anything happened to his little brother, she might never forgive him.

  The muscles in his body ached from the tension flowing through him. Not only was Alex’s life at stake, but so were the lives of his brother and friend. And for what? What was so important about Nourbese’s tomb that it endangered those he loved? Where did one start to search for an elusive enemy?

  Watching Kahlil rise to his feet, he flexed his jaw. “I need to see to Alex. Take care, little brother. And remember, tell no one about the message. God speed.”

  He swallowed the tight ball in his throat and strode quickly out of his
mother’s tent. As he moved through the camp, he barely noticed the hum of early evening activity surrounding him. Should he tell Alex what he’d done? No, she was too ill for him to do that now. Later, he’d tell her later. But when?

  For the first time in his life, he lacked the courage to do something. How was he going to explain his actions to her? He’d only done what he believed necessary to protect her. What could be so difficult in making her understand that? She wouldn’t see it that way. He’d given her his word and then broken it. That’s what she would remember first and foremost.

  Her tent loomed in front of him, and he saw the sides had been dropped to seal in the day’s heat as a guard against the night’s chill. He gave a sharp tug to the small bell outside her tent before pushing the tent flap aside.

  Only one young woman was in the dwelling with Alex. He recognized her as Jasmin. She’d been the one to encourage Alex to dance at the campfire the night before.

  “Good evening, Sheikh Mazir,” Jasmin said with a quiet smile.

  “How is she?”

  “Much improved. The shagi emîra has amazing recuperative powers. Nourbese walks with her.”

  Relief warmed his blood at the response. Returning the woman’s smile, he joined her on the floor, putting Alex between them. Jasmin’s venerating tone and her reference to Alex as a princess told him the woman believed Nourbese’s prophecy. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

  “Why don’t you go and get some dinner. I’ll watch her through the night.”

  “And you, Excellency. Do you not wish to eat?”

  Amazingly, he realized he’d not eaten since breakfast, but he still wasn’t hungry. He shook his head. “I’m fine for the moment, thank you.”

  “As you wish, but if you need refreshment, there are fruit and nuts in the bowl here.” Jasmin waved her hand toward the container sitting behind her. Rising to her feet, she bowed and left the tent.

  Alone with Alex, he brushed a hand across her brow. She was still warm to the touch, but her temperature wasn’t as unnatural as it had been earlier. Her features were no longer ashen as a touch of color crested over her cheekbone.

  He lifted her hand and studied her long fingers. She’d broken a nail. He kissed the bruised finger then laid her hand back down on the blanket that covered her. A soft murmur parted her mouth, and he turned his head to see her staring at him with a dazed expression. Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

  “How do you feel, emîra?”

  “Not very good. Am I going to die?”

  The question startled him. With a firm shake of his head, he brushed the hair at her forehead back. “No. You’re not going to die. I refuse to let that happen.”

  When she licked at her dry lips, he reached for the water bag. Uncapping the goatskin, he lifted her head, but she pushed the bag away.

  “No.”

  “Alex, I can tell you’re thirsty. You must drink.”

  With a weak shake of her head, she licked her lips again. “No, it tastes bad.”

  “Not this water, emîra.” Her hazel eyes studied him warily, and he opened the waterskin and took a large swallow from it. “See, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  The flicker of relief in her gaze tore at his heart. Gently, he offered her the water, and she drank thirstily from the water bag. After a moment, he pulled the water away from her lips.

  “I think that’s enough for right now. You can have more when we’re certain you can keep this down.”

  “Thank you.” She closed her eyes.

  He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I won’t leave you, emîra. You’re going to be fine.”

  Her only answer was a quiet sigh as she drifted off to sleep once more. Silently, he studied her. She’d never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. The memory of how close he’d come to losing her chilled him. He shoved the thought away. The future was what he needed to consider now. Their future.

  Stunned, he shook his head as if a heavy blow had struck him. It was the first time he’d considered a life with Alex beyond Per-Ramesses. Was it possible? If she did care for him, would her love be strong enough? She would have to bear not only the harsh existence of a desert life, but the malicious backbiting of English society as well. None of those concerns mattered until he knew how she would react when she discovered he’d invited the British Museum to Per-Ramesses.

  She’d be furious. But would she forgive him? Would he be able to earn his way back into her good graces? Surely when he explained why he’d summoned the Museum, she would understand. Her safety was too important to him. Somehow he’d make her see that.

  Lying down on the carpet beside Alex’s pallet, he cupped the back of his head with his hands and studied the tent ceiling. All he needed to do was find the appropriate moment to tell her what he’d done. Timing was critical. He closed his eyes, wishing he could find Mohammed’s partner.

  Was his mother right? Had he been approaching the problem from the wrong angle? Who would benefit if Alex didn’t find Nourbese’s tomb? Could that be the aim of Sheikh Tarih of the Hoggar? No, Tarih was far too greedy to give up treasure in an attempt to destroy the Mazir cultural beliefs. The man didn’t possess the political shrewdness for that.

  Then if not Tarih, who else? He didn’t like the answer. No, there must be another option or something he was missing. Medjuel had consistently saved Alex’s life. There wasn’t any way he could be involved in a plot to kill her. Not to mention how important finding Nourbese was to the Mazir. Medjuel wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the tribe.

  His cousin had been right about one thing. If Alex did find the tomb and there was nothing inside, then the cultural fabric of the Mazir tribe would disintegrate over time. He winced at the thought. It wasn’t a pleasant image.

  Well, Alex would find Nourbese’s tomb, and it would happen soon. Of that, he was certain. What he wasn’t so sure of was how difficult the killer was going to make her task.

  Chapter Twenty

  Daylight flooded Alex’s tent as she rolled up the tent wall and secured it to the roof. It was her first day of freedom since Altair had found her in the desert. She’d been confined to her tent for the past three days until Gameela had finally declared her fit for duty again. Still Altair insisted on dogging her every movement.

  It was as if the man feared she would vanish if she wasn’t at his side. She smiled. His constant concern for her well-being pleased her. Perhaps Gameela was right. Maybe he really did care for her. But if that was true, why hadn’t he said something? Talked about a future together?

  Falling in love with Altair had changed her in so many ways. The idea of being his wife grew more appealing every day, and the thought of bearing his child filled her with a joyful expectation. The irony of the situation tugged a smile of chagrin to her mouth. She’d refused to conform to the standards other men had tried to enforce on her, and here she was contemplating hearth and home. It wasn’t just amazing. It was amusing as well.

  Of course, all of this hinged on whether or not Altair loved her. His behavior made her think he cared deeply for her, but how could she be certain if he didn’t express his feelings? Perhaps he wanted nothing more than a brief affair. She grimaced. No. She wouldn’t think that way. It was too painful to think what they shared was little more than a brief liaison.

  She turned back to where her tool bag lay on the floor. Retrieving it, she turned to leave her tent only to find a large figure barring her path. The sight of Altair’s tense expression made her smile.

  “Don’t you look cheerful this morning.” She arched an eyebrow with amusement at the scowl on his face as he folded his arms.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Ride out into the desert, walk through the village.” She shrugged and sent him a wry smile. “Where do you think I’m going? I’ve l
ost three days of work, and I’m not about to lose anymore.”

  A muscle in his tense jawline twitched, and she frowned. What on earth was wrong with him? He was acting as if she’d decided to march into hell itself. His head tipped to one side in a brief nod.

  “If you plan on going to the palace, then I’ll be going with you.”

  His response didn’t surprise her. Smiling, she stepped close to him and rested one hand on his arm. “Then you’d better bring some tools because I intend to put you to work.”

  A reluctant smile curled his mouth. “As you wish, but for my peace of mind, you’ll walk with me to my tent. I want to make certain you don’t go off on your own again.”

  “You worry too much.” She didn’t protest as he cupped her elbow with his hand and guided her through the camp.

  “No, I’m simply being cautious where you’re concerned.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” Although his grip didn’t change on her elbow, she could still feel his fingers stiffen against her skin.

  “Never mind.” Disheartened by his evasive answer, she shook her head. Even gentle prodding failed to move him to speak his heart.

  They halted in front of a beautifully colored tent. The dwelling’s dark, rich burgundy looked soft as velvet, and the gold fringe lining the edges gave the tent an air of luxury. He pulled back one side of the tent and lashed it to the roofline. As he entered the dwelling, she hovered on the edge of the opening, her eyes drinking in the space he called home.

  Three large metal prickets holding fat candles rose majestically up from the floor to offer lighting at night. Plump red and gold pillows lined a wide pallet that she knew had to be his bed. A small round table sat in the middle of the tent, surrounded by cantles that served as something to lean on during a meal or just a conversation.

  Covering the cantles were sheepskin rugs, while three leather trunks stood near the far wall of the tent. On top of the trunks were elaborately woven blankets layered with wide, colorful, fringed tassels. Despite its simplicity, the tent’s interior was decidedly male. It suited him well.