Page 133 of Tomb of the Sun King

She had found the pot in another rock-cut tomb when she went out to investigate their situation an hour earlier. The neck had been broken off, but enough volume remained for her to scoop up a bit of the Nile and carry it with her to where Neil lay dozing.

She hesitated before executing the rest of her plan. Neil looked better than he had any right to. He was still stripped down to his trousers, allowing Constance a more thorough opportunity to appreciate his torso than she’d had the night before. He really must have been doing more than reading excavation reports these last few years. While he wasn’t quite of the proportions of someone like Adam Bates, he had certainly filled out from the scrawny boy Constance had known as a child.

Not that it mattered. She had quite set aside her notions of taking Neil as her lover. Really, the whole idea had been nonsensical! As he had indelibly proved over the last few days, he might have developed a respectable set of biceps, but he was stillStuffy. He would probably respond to Constance’s amorous attentions by blurting out bits of Latin poetry. He’d fumble his glasses, and the tips of his ears would turn red.

She frowned. The images were less off-putting than she might have liked.

At any rate, it was time matters went back to the way they were supposed to be—with Neil complaining about how unsafe things were and Constance finding creative uses for ropes and fire.

Or river water.

Neil muttered uneasily in his sleep, rolling onto his back. His soft brown hair had dried at odd angles. Little creases tugged at the corners of his mouth, as though he were still worrying about something even while he dreamed.

Shecouldsmooth those out with a kiss, Constance thought distractedly.

Instead of kissing, she tipped the broken pot and let a stream of Nile water splash down onto Neil’s face.

He woke up spluttering and flailing. “Who…?! Where…?!”

“It’s time to go,” Constance informed him, setting down the now-empty pot.

Still in her chemise and drawers, she crossed over to pluck her corset from the ground and give it a thorough shaking out. Behind her, Neil fumbled at his pocket for his spectacles.

He slipped them on and blinked at her.

The tips of his ears turned a distinct pink.

Serves him right,Constance thought pertly and fixed her corset into place with a practiced tug at the cords.

Her lawn dress was looking a bit worse for its recent adventures, but she hardly needed to worry about that. No one could see it at the moment but Neil Fairfax.

She pulled it on over her head, popping her arms back into the sleeves.

Neil had scrambled to gather up his own clothes, tugging on his shirt as though it were a hole he could dive into and hide. He was still working on the buttons when his eyes lit on Constance’s broken pot.

He snatched it from the ground and turned it with an air of urgent examination.

“This is Fatamid-era Minis lusterware!” Neil burst out. “Where did you get this? Was there any more of it? Did you see any nearby inscriptions or graffiti?”

“Leave off about the lusterware and finish getting dressed,” Constance retorted. “Unless you’re content to climb over a mile and a half of cliffs as you are. It hardly makes any difference to me.”

Neil looked down at his half-buttoned shirt. He clamped his hand on it, then turned and hurried into his waistcoat.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he asked.

“There’s a bit of farmland on this side of the river at a break in the cliffs to the south,” Constance reported. “We’ll head there and see if we can acquire that boat.”

“Right.” Neil ran a distracted hand through his hair as though to tidy it. The gesture didn’t really help.

Constance gave an impatient huff and batted his hand away, running her fingers through the cropped brown length herself. It was still damp from her wake-up call.

“There,” she concluded, satisfied with the results.

Neil swallowed thickly and pointedly looked past her shoulder. His eyes widened. “Well, there you are!Blessings of Hathor upon Nihkayankh, steward of the nomarch of Ta-Wer!”

“What are you on about?” Constance demanded with a note of exasperation.

Neil pushed past her to the statues by the mouth of the tomb. He pointed to a few lines of hieroglyphs that it had been too dark to see the night before.

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