❝death is only the beginning.❞
Mara El-Masri's fascination with the long-ago world of ancient Egypt started with the stories her stepfather would tell her when she was a child. Her brother Talib El-Masri is missing, left after their mother's funera...
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MARA COULDN'T BREATHE. She couldn't move. She couldn't do anything but stare at the wooden table before her. The crown was in her vision, even somehow winking at her when the lamp's light reflected on its dull gold. She didn't have to look up to know that the men were looking at her. She felt it, felt their concern and worry for her, yet she couldn't bring herself to look away from the table.
It was her name. It was her name Amin Qadir had said when talking of his sacrifice. She was who he planned to kill in order to bring back the forgotten ruler. The man had already sent people to point guns at her and demand the location of her brother. Talib had said that if Qadir knew who she was she was in danger. Before, it hadn't been much of a concern. Qadir had been after Talib for the crown, and he had been her only concern. And now...
Should she not have come to Riyadh? No. Nothing could change the fact that because she had come here she had reunited with her brother after five years and her family had come back together, something she had wanted for half a decade. Regardless of the fear she felt now, her heartbeat pounding in her ears and the nausea in the pit of her stomach, she could never regret that.
But she was afraid.
"You're certain it was Mara's name you heard?" her father asked warily. His voice sounded distant to her right now. "What exactly did Qadir say?"
"He said the sister of the thief would pay," answered Ardeth. The sister of the thief. Even if her name had not been said, there was no mistaking who that was. "Mara El-Masri would be his sacrifice when the crown was in his hands again. There's no doubt. He's targeting her now."
In her peripheral vision, she saw Talib shake his head and lean his elbows on the table, murmuring dreadfully, "No, no, no, no, no..."
A gentle hand laid on her wrist. Mara's eyes lifted from the table to Jonathan beside her. As his hand moved down to take hers, he said, "Mara, maybe we should go back to London now."
Mara nodded, small and nearly imperceptible, not to agree but to let him know she heard him. If her father agreed that it was the best thing to do, then she would go. She didn't want to argue. She didn't want to say anything. Her voice likely wouldn't work if she had tried.
Talib straightened and said, "No, she can't do that."
He had spent so much of the time she had been here telling her that she should leave, yet when the one person she would actually listen to suggested that she should, he argued against it. Mara glanced at him. If her voice would work, she would question him about it.
She didn't have to, for Jamil said, "Talib, he's right. She'll be safest in London."
"You don't understand, do you?" Talib retorted, eyes sweeping across them. He was the one with the most knowledge of who Qadir was and the things he was capable of. "London, Cairo—she could go anywhere and he'd find her. She's not going to be safe anywhere. Qadir's not going to stop until he has her, no matter how long it takes."
