To Protect a Princess. Gail Barrett

the horse. “I don’t know where the crown is,” she said quietly. “No one does. But the dagger is here in Peru. I’ve studied documents from the time of Pizarro, the conquistadores. And about two months ago, I figured out where it is.”

      “In Quillacocha.” His voice was flat.

      “Yes, in the royal tomb.” She tightened her grip on her pack—the backpack that contained her research, the diagrams of the tomb, proof in case anything happened to her. “I’m sure it’s the Roma dagger. The description fits it exactly—the patterned wootz steel they used in India at the time, the gold hilt inlaid with amber, the engravings of the sun and moon. And once we get to Quillacocha, I know exactly where to look.”

      “The only place you’re going is the first town over the pass. You can get a bus to Cusco, and then a flight to Lima from there.”

      “But—”

      “Forget it.” His eyes turned fierce, and her heart beat fast. “There’s no way I’ll take you to Quillacocha. It’s going to be dangerous enough trying to cross that pass. I’ll be damned if I’ll risk your life—or mine—for a chunk of gold.”

      “I’m not going to keep it.” Even the idea shocked her. The dagger was a symbol for the Roma people, an artifact steeped in legend, history. A treasure so ancient, so powerful, that a secret society was slaughtering her people to find it. Their people, since Logan was Roma, too.