First was the Hersch family, in Frankfurt. We arrived ahead of schedule and took a tour. I loved the city—it was huge and bustling and a little gritty, with surprise pockets of old-world charm. I could picture myself living there if I had to. The family themselves were another story. Their only son, Jakob, was twenty-eight years old and already married. Lydia had prepared me for it—apparently a union with me would be advantageous enough that his wife would be okay giving him up. Which wasn’t awkward at all.
So after a day of museums that yielded nothing Napoleon-connected, Jakob’s wife and daughter sat at the dinner table with us as Jakob and Mr. Hersch attempted to sell themselves to my father. Jakob kept staring at me—well, not at me, at my eyes—the way I imagined a vampire would look at a girl he was about to have for dinner. At least Lydia had told me on the plane earlier that Jakob wasn’t a serious contender—my father just had to be fair. When I asked her which of them was a real possibility, she said that was still to be determined. Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. We still had eleven days to find the tomb and get me out of this.
Then the Melech family, in Jerusalem. Daniel had a mop of thick dark hair and a slim, handsome face. I could tell from the way Lydia had talked about him that she liked him, so I was surprised when we met him and he looked me up and down so clinically I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or relieved when he nodded and shook my hand.
They, like many other families, adhered to certain local customs. There were candles, songs, blessings I didn’t understand. A sweet, soft bread shared between us, wine, more food than I could have eaten in a month. And then another hard sell. The Melechs could offer a population base the Saxons couldn’t reach from London. Historical significance. Military might unrivaled in any other small territory. They even outlined exactly what the ceremony would entail if we got married. It was so businesslike, they may as well have used a PowerPoint presentation.
We hadn’t had time to make it to any cultural sites during the day, so Jack and I snuck out that night, hopeful. Alexander the Great had visited Jerusalem. The two of us met Stellan and searched a few museums, but came up empty. Stellan was probably right when he said the area’s centuries of political unrest may have scattered any pieces Napoleon left here.
10 days, the Order texted that night. The optimism I’d been feeling before Germany was fading fast.
Next the Emir family, Saudi Arabia. I’d been sleeping worse and worse as the days wore on, and was so tired by that time that the whole visit felt like a series of hallucinations. Standing in the scorching heat, staring up at their Riyadh skyrise, a gleaming glass building in the desert sun. The terrible look on Samarah Emir’s face when they talked about their oldest son Malik, killed by the Order just before I found out the Circle existed. A Saudi prince killed by a car bomb, the news had said, back when I thought the news told the truth.
They had a full-grown Bengal tiger in a penthouse petting zoo. Cole pushed its fur the wrong way, earning a snap of teeth that were as long as my little finger. That meant one of Jack’s hands on his gun and the other on me—the only time he’d so much as acknowledged my presence in front of the Saxons during the visits. The tiger got a squirt with a spray bottle like it was a house cat scratching the sofa. The animals had been Malik’s, Lydia said. Maybe they’d turn them out on the street to entertain themselves now that he was dead, Cole whispered when no one was listening.
Earlier, we’d seen the Emirs’ oldest daughter, who was around my age, with big, sad eyes. I remembered Jack telling me she’d been caught having a relationship with a Keeper, and been forced to terminate him herself. I decided Cole might not be kidding about the animals.
At dinner, a parading of their younger son, the one who was supposed to marry me, even though he was twelve years old. The look in his eyes was too grown-up when he took my hand and pledged his eternal love and protection for me if we chose him.
I could never live here. Or with the Melechs. Or the Hersch family. I’d rather marry Stellan. During dessert, as I picked at sweet tea and sticky dates and thought about how days ten and nine had just been wasted and we weren’t even certain our next clue was right, I felt the door of this pretty cage closing faster and faster.
? ? ?
In the middle of the night, I woke up gasping for breath.
I’d been dreaming about falling from a high-rise building, my mom holding me by the hand. It took me a second to remember where I was, and when I did, I sank back against the pillow and stared up at the tapestry hanging over my head. The air-conditioning stirred the mustard-yellow tassels surrounding it, and I clutched a pillow to my chest. During the day, I was holding it together, but nighttime conspires against a person’s brain.