Read Online The Immortal Heights by Sherry Thomas - Free Book Online

floor of a dim, stuffy cave. And Kashkari, not far from him, slumbered soundly.
    â€œWe are in Luxor—in the Theban Necropolis,” said Fairfax, asif she had heard his questions. “You and Kashkari were both dead asleep when we arrived. I didn’t want to wake you up to ask where we should stay, so I just came here.”
    Still groggy, Titus rubbed his eyes and made a face. “The mummy hotel?”
    No self-respecting mage community had tolerated burial as a funerary practice after the Necromancer Wars. And the very idea of bodies preserved to last forever, perfect for serving as foot soldiers the next time a twisted archmage decided to reanimate corpses for his or her own nefarious purposes—he grimaced again.
    She laughed softly. “There are piles of pottery deeper in the cave. Maybe they contain embalmed organs.”
    He stretched—the hard ground had made his back stiff. “How did you come across this place?”
    â€œI knew about it from talking to Birmingham—he had definite plans to excavate here someday. Wait, you were there that day.”
    It took him a moment to remember Birmingham—their former house captain at Mrs. Dawlish’s—and the lovely, lovely days of the latter part of the Summer Half, with the Inquisitor dead and the Bane pondering his options, not yet ready to sally forth again. Life during those miraculously safe weeks seemed to consist entirely of sports, sunshine, and merrymaking. She was never not in the corridor, talking to clusters of boys, either about to set out and do something fun or newly returned from such an excursion.
    And on that particular day, a Sunday, after morning service,when he had gone to his laboratory for something or another, she, Cooper, Wintervale, and Kashkari had come back from a walk in the country with, of all things, a pewter freezing-pot. By the time Titus set foot in Mrs. Dawlish’s again, the house was in an uproar, with boys being sent out to obtain all manners of items, a tub from the laundry room, ice from the nearest ice well, and the cook’s recipe book from the kitchen.
    The Master of the Domain was dispatched to find a gallon of fresh cream at an hour long after the morning’s milk had been delivered. He had somehow accomplished this Herculean task, and that afternoon the boys had flown kites and played tennis while taking turns stirring the cream until it began to congeal.
    A gallon of ice cream was a drop in the ocean where dozens of boys were concerned. By the time she had doled out a serving to everyone, there was barely a spoonful left for the two of them. It had certainly not been the best ice cream he had ever tasted, only the most wonderful.
    And that was when Birmingham had declared that he would be sure to take a freezing-pot with him, when he undertook his future digs in Upper Egypt. Birmingham had gone on to describe what must be this exact place. She had listened attentively, curious as usual about what nonmages did with their lives, but Titus had only looked at her, while terms such as “Temple of Hatshepsut” and “Valley of the Queens” washed in and out of his hearing.
    He reached out and touched her hair, feeling its softness between his fingers.
    â€œThinking of the ice cream?” she murmured.
    â€œOf course,” he said.
    Every bright, beautiful memory was always associated with her. Until she came along, he had never understood the concept of boyhood, of those years in a man’s life that should be full of fun and laughter. Now he only wished he had met her sooner—that they had spent more time together.
    He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her closer. She gazed at him, her thumb grazing across his chapped lips.
    Kashkari cried out.
    They drew apart, their heads turning in unison toward their friend. He seemed to be still asleep. A bad dream, most likely. They waited a few seconds, glancing at each other, holding back