The flight to Cairo dragged on, each hour bleeding into the next. The man in front of me had reclined the moment the seatbelt sign blinked off and hadn't moved since. I did my best to keep still, careful not to jostle his seat, but the pins and needles creeping up from my ankles made it impossible to stay comfortable. I shifted when I couldn't help it. The headache I'd woken with still pulsed behind my eyes, dull and insistent.
Most of the cabin had gone quiet. A few people were asleep, heads tilted awkwardly against the windows. Others stared at their screens, the glow lighting their faces while they flicked through their tablets or phones.
I touched the necklace Eliza had given me before we boarded, my fingers finding the charm where it rested in the hollow of my throat. I turned it between my fingertips, the metal smooth and faintly warm. It was a wedjat, an Eye of Horus, meant to ward off evil.
It didn't look like the ones you saw in museum displays or tourist shops. This one was cast in silver, with a pale green stone at its center were the pupil would be. The stone was almost clear at first glance, but when it caught the light, the color shifted just enough to remind me of Eldon's eyes. Eliza wore one too. I'd noticed hers earlier, tucked beneath her shirt.
Thankfully Eliza kept me distracted for most of the flight. Her voice cut through the slow throb behind my eyes, giving me something to focus on besides the headache and the cramped seating.
"You should have seen the fallout after this year's grant announcement," she said, leaning closer so her voice wouldn't carry. She spoke with the kind of gossip-fueled intensity that most people would need to consume three energy drinks to match. "The whole department was in chaos for weeks."
I nodded faintly, trying to summon the appropriate level of interest, though I wasn't particularly invested in academic politics. The truth was, I found that kind of drama exhausting. But Eliza was used to carrying conversations, and she didn't seem to mind that I was contributing little more than the occasional sound of agreement.
"The donors loved it, of course. Professor Eldon, though he'd never admit it, leaked that draft translation to the press and the media ran with it like it was gospel."
"Wouldn't that kind of thing get most people fired?" I asked, before I could stop myself. Eliza clearly respected him or maybe in her case it was a bit of hero worship.
She fiddled with the end of her braid. "Maybe. But Eldon has always had a way of making the fallout work in his favor."
"He's absolutely brilliant with social media," she continued, apparently taking my lackluster response as encouragement to keep going. "He knows exactly how to drop just enough mystery to get people speculating online. Creates this perfect storm of public interest and academic intrigue."
She glanced toward the aisle, then lowered her voice. "Since he took over the department, funding's doubled. That was, what, three years ago? Right around when we both started. It's the only reason the program's still competitive."
"I'm sure it's due to only his academic contributions," I said, a little too flat to be taken as genuine. The words were out before I could stop them, and I blinked, startled. Why had I said that out loud? I rubbed at my temple. The headache had shifted more firmly behind my eyes, dull and insistent. It was starting to feel like the beginning of a migraine, and the medication I'd taken before boarding hadn't helped.
Eliza turned to look at me, brows lifted. "You don't think he's earned it?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. There were words I wanted to say but I couldn't shape them into anything flattering. They gathered in my throat like pressure behind a dam, and I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, forcing myself to stay quiet.
"He's demanding, sure," she said, more careful now. "But that's just how this world works, especially for us. You have to play the game, whether you like it or not."
She gave a small shrug that didn't feel casual. "And if it helps that he's good-looking? If that gets people to open their wallets?" She glanced at me, calm and unapologetic. "Then I don't really see the problem."
A few seconds go by in silence and she let out a soft laugh that sounded more like relief than apology. "I'm sorry Harper. It's just...I don't think I've ever met someone who didn't fall for his charm, at least not a little. Honestly, it's kind of nice to hear someone who's not tripping over themselves to impress him."
She rubbed the back of her neck. "It just caught me off guard. I didn't mean to get defensive. Usually I have to do the opposite. Talk people down."
She looked at me thoughtfully, "I've never said anything before, but I know you didn't really have family growing up. Foster care, right?" Her voice stayed gentle. "It's different here. We look out for each other. Eldon does what's necessary to keep that going."
I studied her face in the dim cabin lighting, noting how she never quite met my eyes when she spoke. She didn't look away exactly, but there was a carefulness to her attention, as if she were choosing each word with more precision than usual.
"I appreciate you vouching for me," I said eventually. "I know I'll mostly be double-checking inventory logs and taking photographs but you didn't have to recommend me specifically. I won't forget that." I look at her with a small smile. "I think I'm just grouchy, I've had a hell of a headache since we've been in the air and I don't think it's making me pleasant company."
The smile I expected to see didn't materialize. Instead, her expression grew serious.
"Be careful about who you think you owe favors to, Harper," she said in a near whisper. "And don't think of this as a favor. Debts have a way of becoming complicated when you least expect it."
There was something in the way she emphasized the word 'debts' that felt significant, though I couldn't grasp why. I hesitated, uncertain how to respond. Her words carried more weight than the moment seemed to warrant. We fell into silence after that, and the constant hum of the aircraft engines filled the space between us with white noise.
Outside, the sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in gradual layers of color. We were somewhere over the Mediterranean, still too high to see anything besides the endless expanse of clouds.
A presence stirred at the edge of my vision. Professor Eldon stood at our row, one hand resting lightly on the back of the seat ahead.
"Excuse me," he said, addressing the businessman beside me with practiced civility. His tone was pleasant, "Would you mind switching seats?"
The man looked up from his laptop slowly, the corners of his mouth tightening as if the interruption had tugged him out of something important. Mid-forties, perhaps, with the soft features and expensive clothing of corporate middle management.
"I'd prefer not to," he said at last, his tone courteous but closed.
"Of course," Eldon said smoothly, his smile never wavering. "I completely understand." He reached out and placed his hand over the businessman's where it rested on the arm rest. His fingers moved slowly, across the back of the man's hand. "But I think you'll find that you can get more work done up there."
I watched in fascination and growing horror as the resistance drained from the businessman's face. His eyes lost their sharp focus, pupils dilating until they looked almost black.
"Actually," he said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality that raised goosebumps along my arms, "your right. I think I would be more productive up there."
He began gathering his belongings with mechanical precision, every action seemed carefully considered, as if he were following instructions that only he could hear. He stood, stepped into the aisle, and walked toward the front of the plane without a single backward glance in our direction.
Eldon slid into the vacant seat. He was close enough now that I could smell his cologne, something expensive with a sweet note that made me wrinkle my nose despite the pleasant scent.
A flight attendant approached, drawn by the minor commotion. She was young, probably not much older than I was. "Is everything alright here?" she asked, though her attention was clearly focused on Eldon rather than any genuine concern about disruption.
"Everything is perfect," he said, before turning his attention to the tablet in his hand with deliberate focus.
A pleased flush spread across her cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. As she left, still glowing from his slight attention, Eldon rolled up the cuffs of his dress shirt with casual precision and pulled out his phone.
"I like to make myself available to newer team members, in case they have questions," he said, still focused on his device. "Have you looked over the preliminary photographs from the first team?" The second question was clearly meant for Eliza.
Every instinct I had told me I'd just seen something that wasn't normal. People didn't simply touch someone and make them comply. It wasn't how the world worked. But even as the unease settled low in my chest, the rational part of me scrambled to make sense of it. The businessman was tired. Jet lag, the pressure of travel, too many hours without proper rest.
What disturbed me the most was Eliza's complete lack of reaction. She had witnessed the entire exchange, and yet she seemed utterly untroubled by what had occurred. If anything, she appeared relieved that Eldon was now seated with us.
"Yes, after looking everything over I've been wondering," she said, her voice carrying the same casual tone she might use to discuss the weather, "whether this tomb will have more intact cartouches than the site we worked on last summer. The preservation conditions in this part of the Valley have been remarkably favorable."
"Eliza," I said carefully, "would you mind if I took the window seat? I'm hoping some sleep might help with this headache. I'd rather not risk nodding off and drooling on someone's shoulder."
She glanced at Eldon, which struck me as strange. The request hadn't been his to answer but I guess he would need to get up. He stepped into the aisle without a word. We exchanged seats awkwardly, maneuvering around each other in the cramped space.
I settled against the window with quiet relief. Eliza had taken the opportunity to slip off to the bathroom, and a flight attendant had drawn Eldon into conversation across the aisle. For a moment, I was alone.
But that necklace was pressing against my skin again, heavier now, almost suffocating. I reached up instinctively, fingers searching for the clasp, but it eluded me. A flicker of panic rose in my chest. I tugged at the chain, more forcefully than I meant to, then forced myself to slow down. My fingertips traced along the silver links until they finally found the clasp. I unhooked it with clumsy urgency and shoved the necklace into my pocket.
I closed my eyes and focused on slowing my breathing. Little by little, the pressure behind my eyes began to ease. Next to me, I could hear Eliza and Eldon talking about permits and logistics, their voices low and steady, just enough to fade into the background.
By the time the wheels touched down in Cairo, the headache was gone. And for the first time since boarding the plane, I felt something close to excitement, this was a chance to experience something new.