Misplaced (12 page)

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Authors: SL Hulen

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“I
ha
v
e
a
confession
to
make
when
you

re
ready
to
hear
it.
Call me, Ms.
Barrón,” he whispered, releasing her hand, which
w
as now deliciously
w
arm and tingling.

It
w
as definitely time to lea
v
e.

W
it
h
Robert’
s
help
,
sh
e
poure
d
a
silen
t
Khar
a
int
o
th
e
ca
r
an
d
fled
.
Th
e
unlit
,
unpa
v
e
d
street
s
seeme
d
t
o
ad
d
t
o
the
mystery that accompanied Khara like a shadow.

There
had
to
be
a
sensible
explanation
for
her
using
a
dead
language.
But
why
would
she?
Concentration
w
as
impossible.
Elias’s
comment
about
finding
someone
“more
qualified”
had
stung
her
pride.
And
if
things
w
eren’t
confusing
enough,
there
w
a
s
Rober
t
Chilton
.
I
f
sh
e
w
er
e
careless
,
sh
e
coul
d
b
e
distracted
by
his
charms
and
forget
his
sketchy
romantic
past.
In
college,
he had been something of a boy-toy and easy to dismiss.

Th
e
car
d
whic
h
h
e
ha
d
s
o
seducti
v
el
y
presse
d
int
o
her
hand
now
sat
on
the
dashboard.
Suddenly,
it
w
as
snatched
by
the
breeze
and
fluttered
out
the
open
window,
landing
in
the
churning
w
aters of the canal.
Definitel
y
no
t
a
goo
d
sign
,
sh
e
thought
,
sighing
,
a
s
th
e
familiar
disappointment settled
around her shoulders.


Y
ou
despair,”
Khara
said,
“when
you
should
rejoice.
Isn’t
your heart softened by the
w
ay he looks at you?”

Wh
y
doe
s
e
v
eryone
,
e
v
e
n
a
relati
v
e
stranger
,
fee
l
obligate
d
to
comment on my lo
v
e life?
V
ictoria wondered.

A
few
moments
of
blessed
silence
w
ent
by.
“I
didn’t
drink
a
s
muc
h
a
s
I
pretended,

Khar
a
continued
.
“H
e
aske
d
questions
for which I ha
v
e no ans
w
er.”

“N
o
wonde
r
yo
u
mad
e
suc
h
a
n
impressio
n
o
n
Marta,”
V
ictoria
commented,
smiling.
“Both
of
you
are
such
schemers
tha
t
you

r
e
practicall
y
kindre
d
spirits.

Sh
e
turne
d
of
f
the
engin
e
an
d
reache
d
fo
r
he
r
hous
e
key
.
“Bu
t
now
,
m
y
friend,
you o
w
e me a story.”

Khara hea
v
ed a sigh. “It’s the least you deser
v
e.”

 

 

 

Chapte
r
Eight
Khara

 

Victori
a
pointed
out
that
the
rug,
the
pattern of
which
Khar
a
w
a
s
studying
,
ha
d
bee
n
wo
v
e
n
i
n
Na
v
aj
o
st
y
le
.
Khara
plucked
at
a
fiber.
T
wirling
the
strand
of
red
wool
nervously, she wound it around her index finger.

One
w
eek
ago,
she
had
stood,
undaunted,
before
the
High
Council
in
the
hope
of
proving
herself
worthy
to
rule
the
Great
Hous
e
o
f
Egypt
.
Mos
t
o
f
he
r
lif
e
ha
d
bee
n
spen
t
preparing
fo
r
tha
t
gruelin
g
assessmen
t
o
f
he
r
physica
l
an
d
intellectual
capabilities
.
Upo
n
th
e
council’
s
request
,
sh
e
ha
d
accurately
calculate
d
store
s
o
f
grains
,
defende
d
battl
e
strategies
,
and
surprised
them
with
her
skill
at
hand-to-hand
combat.
Had
she
been
male
the
examination
would
ha
v
e
been
little
more
than
a
collecti
v
e
nod
.
Hopin
g
t
o
discredi
t
her—a
t
t
w
enty-three
,
she
w
as
far
past
the
age
of
innocence—she
had
been
examined
by
th
e
ro
y
a
l
physician
,
wh
o
reporte
d
wit
h
disappointmen
t
that
he
r
virginit
y
w
a
s
intact
.
E
v
e
n
he
r
devotio
n
t
o
th
e
god
s
had
bee
n
c
alle
d
int
o
que
s
tion
.
I
n
th
e
en
d
,
th
e
Hig
h
C
o
un
c
i
l
w
a
s
caugh
t
bet
w
ee
n
allegianc
e
t
o
thei
r
divin
e
kin
g
an
d
centuries
o
f
tradition
.
W
it
h
face
s
a
s
lon
g
an
d
rigi
d
a
s
obelisks
,
they
reluctantly acquiesced to the wishes of their pharaoh.

Tonight,
as
she
smoothed
the
borro
w
ed
skirt
across
her
lap,
sh
e
fel
t
th
e
stake
s
w
er
e
e
v
e
n
higher
.
Sayin
g
to
o
li
t
tl
e
coul
d
b
e
a
s
mortal
to
her
hopes
of
returning
home
as
divulging
too
much.
Thes
e
las
t
day
s
ha
d
show
n
wit
h
de
v
astatin
g
clarit
y
tha
t
she
needed
V
ictoria more than she dared admit.

“I
ha
v
e
come
to
see
that
something
as
small
as
a
handful
of
moment
s
ar
e
t
o
blam
e
fo
r
m
y
misfortune,

Khar
a
began
,
her
voice
trembling
slightly,
“the
ones
bet
w
een
the
time
I
w
as
born
into this world, and Menefra follo
w
ed.”

Afte
r
pullin
g
ope
n
th
e
doors
,
V
ictori
a
padde
d
barefoo
t
to
her
customary
place
on
the
sofa
and
remo
v
ed
the
clip
holding
he
r
hair
.
Sh
e
brushe
d
i
t
a
w
a
y
fro
m
he
r
fac
e
an
d
smiled
encouragingl
y
whil
e
Khar
a
searche
d
fo
r
th
e
righ
t
plac
e
t
o
begin.

“Nandor
says
our
spirits
are
as
different
as
the
sun
and
the
moon.
W
e
share
a
strong
resemblance
to
our
mother—fathe
r
’s
last and most favored wife.”


A
sister?

V
ictori
a
clappe
d.
“Wh
y
didn’t
you
say
so
earlier?
That
is
good
news,
isn’t
it?
I
mean,
she
must be worried sick about you.”

“No
t
i
n
th
e
w
a
y
tha
t
yo
u
migh
t
think
.
I
belie
v
e,

sh
e
mused,
measuring
her
words
carefully,
“that
my
guardian’s
intent
w
as
to protect me from Menefra.”

“But why?”

Shakin
g
he
r
hea
d
sadly
,
sh
e
sighed
.
“M
y
siste
r
i
s
lik
e
the
Khamsin.”

“What’s that?”
“Imagin
e
tha
t
i
t
i
s
a
sprin
g
da
y
an
d
yo
u
ar
e
enjoyin
g
the
sky—bright
blue
and
full
of
billowing
clouds.
Y
ou
feel
a
gentle
gust
of
w
arm
wind
from
the
east
that
does
no
more
than
raise
the
hair
on
your
forearms.
A
t
that
v
ery
instant,
you
must
run
fo
r
co
v
er
.
Y
o
u
ru
n
fo
r
you
r
life.

Sh
e
demonstrated
,
fingers
pumpin
g
furiousl
y
a
t
th
e
edg
e
o
f
th
e
glas
s
table
.
“Fo
r
o
n
the
bac
k
o
f
tha
t
gentl
e
win
d
ride
s
th
e
Khamsin
,
bringin
g
monstrous
w
alls
of
sand
that
obliterate
e
v
erything
in
their
path.
My
sister
ha
s
become,

sh
e
admitte
d
fo
r
th
e
firs
t
time
,

a
ser
v
an
t
of
wickedness.”

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