Page 12 of Indirect Attack
In my field, I usually dealt with things far older than 150 years old. But I could still appreciate the beauty that had lasted so long, the colors and gold leaf barely faded. But the young woman, still staring politely at me, was clearly not interested in any of it. She’d probably been around it her entire life, not to mention working with it every day. It wasn’t anything new to her.
“My name is Jasmine Davis. I’m checking in with the team from the Archeological Research Institute.”
“Ms. Davis.” The young woman smiled, relieved I’d finally given her the information she needed to get me checked in and get her onto the next guest waiting behind me. “Welcome to the Imperial Hotel Florin.”
“Thanks. It’s my first time.”
I tried not to flush again, knowing that fact was glaringly obvious. I was far too excited to play it cool, though. This trip was my first international archeological dig and my first time in a hotel this glamorous. I felt almost out of place, and I’d already given away my status as a foreigner by rubbernecking at everything on the way here from the airport.
I’d been so excited about this dig I’d barely slept for the past week. This wasn’t just my first international dig—it was my first where I wasn’t just a student. Even if I was only a volunteer, even if my university had paid all my expenses because they wanted representation in the excavation, as a strong Ph.D. candidate, I was considered a colleague.
It was my very first, and I was going to prove myself beyond a doubt.
“Ms. David, here you are, room 610. Take the elevator up, and you’ll be at the end of the hallway. Enjoy your stay, and please don’t hesitate to let us know if you need anything.”
I thanked the desk clerk, returned her warm smile, took the keycard she held out, and wandered my way upstairs.
The lobby had been impressive, but the room was far grander than anything I could have imagined, with space, old-world embellishments, and a bathroom I could happily have lived in. I threw myself onto the bed with a squeal of delight, kicking my legs in excitement, the comforter soft and plush. As I stared at the ceiling, I thought about how hard I’d worked to get here. It was finally paying off, all the time, all the late nights, all thedinners and clubs I didn’t go to when friends begged me to go out just so I could achieve my goals.
Years ago, I had decided that if I couldn’t have Ben, I would pour all my attention into my dream of being an archeologist. And, finally, I was here.
I pushed myself off the bed and wandered over to the French doors, wondering about my view. When I moved into the open, warm air washed over me with a hint of moisture and salt, and a seagull winging overhead called out as I leaned my arms against the wall and looked out.
The city of Florin, one of Gilderslavia’s premier tourist destinations, spread out before me, medieval sandstone and red-tiled roofs stretching out to the green hills on one side, the azure sea on the other. The city itself was beautiful, with cobbled streets and ancient architecture I couldn’t wait to get out and explore. I’d seen more than a few narrow alleyways in the cab ride over, and I was even more excited to find out where they led—old steps leading to quiet neighborhoods, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant only locals knew about, or some ancient ruin I could lose myself in for the day.
But my eye couldn’t help but catch on the damage done to some of the buildings, a stab in the heart for the lives and beauty lost. It was a visible reminder that though stable now, Gilderslavia had not long before been war-torn. Florin had, remarkably, avoided much of the unrest that had torn apart the rest of the country, but scars remained, from damaged buildings to the lack of people roaming the streets, to the presence of armed soldiers and strict rules I had to follow while here.
But tourists were starting to return, the city coming to life again after hunkering down to weather the storm it had most likely seen more often than not in its long history.
And I was grateful to be here, observing this turn of the wheel—Florin hadn’t survived so many centuries without knowinghow to survive. And I was here because damage recovery had unearthed structures even more ancient than those that had been built over it. We all knew the find could hold the keys to long-lost swaths of time in this region of Central Europe.
Structures I couldn’t wait to get my hands on, metaphorically and literally. What secrets would the ruins give up? Ancient writings? A deeper peek into religious systems? Trade and government?
I’d known from the moment I’d heard about the find, the moment the news had broken to our department back at the university, that this was where I was supposed to be. I’d campaigned hard to be on the international team, the next notch in my belt I needed to get my career started.
There was only one downside—Greg was also on the trip as a supervisor.
My supervisor.
With slightly different areas of concentration, he and I hadn’t, thankfully, had too many interactions after our breakup. But a year ahead of me in the program, he’d already been with this group once before, a fact I had been afraid might hurt my chances. So, it had come as a surprise when my advisor had let it slip Greg had put in a good word for me after I’d applied. I’d even taken him out for dinner to thank him, although I’d made it very clear it was a thank-you dinner and nothing else.
In the intervening years since our breakup, Greg seemed to have matured. If he was part of this group, it meant he’d stopped goofing off to play video games and had buckled down. He’d also shown a mature side at dinner I’d never once seen when we’d been a couple, speaking of our time together without anger or disparagement. That was something I’d heard too much when we’d been together.
Although I still had an uneasy feeling he’d put in the good word because he wanted to get back with me, I was tryinghard not to think badly of him. People could mature, and Greg had seemed sincerely changed at dinner. More than that, the incident with Ben hadn’t been his fault—not really. It hadn’t been fair of me to be in a relationship when I was still in love with someone else. Even though I’d never said anything, I’d felt Greg knew on some level. And he’d only acted the way most people would when that someone else showed up.
The entire thing had been as much my fault as Ben’s and Greg’s. Or maybe it hadn’t been anyone’s fault at all.
Which was all water under the bridge, anyway. I hadn’t seen or heard from Ben in three years. From what his mom had said, he’d reenlisted with the Marines and was rarely on leave. And I’d been too busy earning my master’s and joining the Ph.D. program, which had been a balm to my broken heart.
A knock on my door startled me out of my thoughts, and I straightened and walked back into the room. Peeping through the hole in the door, I was surprised to see Greg on the other side.
“Greg?”
He looked startled as I opened the door and stood there, blinking for a moment. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was drunk.
But maybe he was just jetlagged. I’d heard he’d gotten in around the same time I had, and not everyone dealt with the long flight and jump in time zones well. He also had to take medication for plane sickness, which would account for the slightly glassy look to his eyes. That stuff had always knocked him out.
“Jasmine.”
