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Table of Contents
About The Book
INSTANT BESTSELLER
For fans of The Lost Apothecary, a gripping dual-timeline novel about the mysterious death of an indomitable female papyrologist during an archaeological dig in the early 1900s and an aspiring young female researcher’s present-day quest to find out who killed her.
An ill-fated dig. An ancient city believed to be cursed. And a century-old mystery at the heart of it all.
Egypt, 1903: When renowned papyrologist Helen Gardiner arrives at an excavation site in the ancient city of Calliopolis, she learns that she has been given the job because her predecessor has disappeared under mysterious circumstances. One of the only women on the dig, Helen—tasked with restoring and cataloguing the thousands of papyrus fragments recovered at the site—soon discovers that there’s more to Calliopolis than meets the eye. The archaeologists on the dig, mostly men, all have not only their own towering egos, but their own agendas, including secrets they might kill to protect.
Toronto, 2019: Archivist Maddie Sloan is at a dead end: she feels like her academic career is stalled, and she’s still healing from her recent breakup with her former partner, Ben. To make matters worse, Ben still works with Maddie’s father, a famous archaeologist, and with whom Maddie has had a major falling out. It feels like her father has chosen Ben over her.
When famous TV archaeologist Peter Bahar arrives at the Toronto Archaeological Museum to verify the provenance of objects from their Egyptian collection believed to be from Calliopolis, Maddie jumps at the opportunity. After all, she has her own ties to the Cursed City of Calliopolis through her grandmother, Iris, who worked at the site. As Maddie and Peter begin digging into the objects and circumstances surrounding the excavation, they learn that two papyrologists seem to have abruptly disappeared from the dig without explanation. Suddenly, a search for provenance becomes a quest to uncover a history shrouded in secrets and lies—and a murder that has been covered up for more than a century.
For fans of The Lost Apothecary, a gripping dual-timeline novel about the mysterious death of an indomitable female papyrologist during an archaeological dig in the early 1900s and an aspiring young female researcher’s present-day quest to find out who killed her.
An ill-fated dig. An ancient city believed to be cursed. And a century-old mystery at the heart of it all.
Egypt, 1903: When renowned papyrologist Helen Gardiner arrives at an excavation site in the ancient city of Calliopolis, she learns that she has been given the job because her predecessor has disappeared under mysterious circumstances. One of the only women on the dig, Helen—tasked with restoring and cataloguing the thousands of papyrus fragments recovered at the site—soon discovers that there’s more to Calliopolis than meets the eye. The archaeologists on the dig, mostly men, all have not only their own towering egos, but their own agendas, including secrets they might kill to protect.
Toronto, 2019: Archivist Maddie Sloan is at a dead end: she feels like her academic career is stalled, and she’s still healing from her recent breakup with her former partner, Ben. To make matters worse, Ben still works with Maddie’s father, a famous archaeologist, and with whom Maddie has had a major falling out. It feels like her father has chosen Ben over her.
When famous TV archaeologist Peter Bahar arrives at the Toronto Archaeological Museum to verify the provenance of objects from their Egyptian collection believed to be from Calliopolis, Maddie jumps at the opportunity. After all, she has her own ties to the Cursed City of Calliopolis through her grandmother, Iris, who worked at the site. As Maddie and Peter begin digging into the objects and circumstances surrounding the excavation, they learn that two papyrologists seem to have abruptly disappeared from the dig without explanation. Suddenly, a search for provenance becomes a quest to uncover a history shrouded in secrets and lies—and a murder that has been covered up for more than a century.
Excerpt
Chapter One ONE
Iris Wentworth found my body, which was unfortunate. I would have preferred it to be one of the men. Although now that I think of it, the men would have made an entertainment of it, a tale to be shared over a drink in rooms where women can’t go. They would have made themselves the heroes of the story—my story.
So perhaps it is best that it was Iris. She was fierce, in her polite way. We all were. We had to be to survive the rigors of an excavation camp, to prove ourselves deserving of a place that might have gone to a man. We never complained about the scorching heat or the revolting food or the unsanitary conditions or the comments that belittled us and our abilities. We persevered. We shook out our bedclothes every night, making sure nothing had crawled in that might kill us in our sleep. In the small hours, we listened for hoofbeats that might signal a raid from one of the desert tribes. We kept secrets—our own, and the men’s.
But Iris’s guard was down that day. She’d come straight from a wedding in Cairo, surrounded by her old school friends, and stuffed full of fellowship and champagne and food served on fine porcelain for days. She hadn’t had time to return to watchfulness. She hadn’t put her mask back on, as all women in a man’s world must do.
Rubi, the headman, took the donkey cart to Beni Suef to meet her train, along with a horse so that she could ride back on her own. Iris was an Englishwoman, and excellent on horseback, and Rubi knew that she wouldn’t choose to jolt along in the cart when she could chase the wind. The track from the station was easy to follow; it had been a canal once, before it silted up, and it ran ten miles straight to the excavation house in the village, and another five miles on to the dig site. The ancient waterway had brought all of us to this place. Without the canal, there would have been no city to rise and fall on its banks, and nothing for us to find in the sand.
And so Iris arrived at our house alone, opened the door, and found what she could never forget. At least I assume she never forgot. I never saw her again, although I have thought of her often, many times.
I would have saved her from the shock, if I could, but even now, I don’t have that kind of power. There are some that do. The desert is full of spirits, and not all of them are kindly disposed toward the living.
I have always been more interested in the dead.
Iris Wentworth found my body, which was unfortunate. I would have preferred it to be one of the men. Although now that I think of it, the men would have made an entertainment of it, a tale to be shared over a drink in rooms where women can’t go. They would have made themselves the heroes of the story—my story.
So perhaps it is best that it was Iris. She was fierce, in her polite way. We all were. We had to be to survive the rigors of an excavation camp, to prove ourselves deserving of a place that might have gone to a man. We never complained about the scorching heat or the revolting food or the unsanitary conditions or the comments that belittled us and our abilities. We persevered. We shook out our bedclothes every night, making sure nothing had crawled in that might kill us in our sleep. In the small hours, we listened for hoofbeats that might signal a raid from one of the desert tribes. We kept secrets—our own, and the men’s.
But Iris’s guard was down that day. She’d come straight from a wedding in Cairo, surrounded by her old school friends, and stuffed full of fellowship and champagne and food served on fine porcelain for days. She hadn’t had time to return to watchfulness. She hadn’t put her mask back on, as all women in a man’s world must do.
Rubi, the headman, took the donkey cart to Beni Suef to meet her train, along with a horse so that she could ride back on her own. Iris was an Englishwoman, and excellent on horseback, and Rubi knew that she wouldn’t choose to jolt along in the cart when she could chase the wind. The track from the station was easy to follow; it had been a canal once, before it silted up, and it ran ten miles straight to the excavation house in the village, and another five miles on to the dig site. The ancient waterway had brought all of us to this place. Without the canal, there would have been no city to rise and fall on its banks, and nothing for us to find in the sand.
And so Iris arrived at our house alone, opened the door, and found what she could never forget. At least I assume she never forgot. I never saw her again, although I have thought of her often, many times.
I would have saved her from the shock, if I could, but even now, I don’t have that kind of power. There are some that do. The desert is full of spirits, and not all of them are kindly disposed toward the living.
I have always been more interested in the dead.
About The Author
© Betsy Hilton
Kate Hilton is a bestselling Canadian writer. In addition to City of the Muse, her fiction includes The Hole in the Middle, Just Like Family, and Better Luck Next Time. She is also the coauthor, with Elizabeth Renzetti, of the Quill and Packet mystery series: Bury the Lead, Widows and Orphans, and the forthcoming Put It to Bed. When not writing, Kate works as a psychotherapist in private practice, with a focus on personal reinvention and life transitions. She lives with her family in Toronto.
Product Details
- Publisher: Simon & Schuster (April 14, 2026)
- Length: 304 pages
- ISBN13: 9781668069554
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Raves and Reviews
“In City of the Muse, author Kate Hilton unites her deep understanding and passion for history, archaeology, literature, true crime, and academic one-upmanship in an all-encompassing and breathless tale set against the magical, fictional city of Calliopolis. In a spectacular imaginative feat, Hilton brings to life a site of early twentieth-century excavation that will result—curse-like—in numerous, mysterious deaths, while also creating a fascinating parallel world of scholarship to the real-life study of early Egyptian scrolls and their vast social, religious, and literary significance. Readers of historical fiction will revel in this wholly original, immersive, and gripping tale.”
— NATALIE JENNER, international bestselling author of The Jane Austen Society and Bloomsbury Girls
“An accomplished and absorbing mystery set in two timelines, Kate Hilton’s City of the Muse skilfully weaves together Egyptology, a hundred-year-old murder, and a present-day dilemma to deliver a story that kept me turning the pages to reach an immensely satisfying conclusion.”
— JANIE CHANG, Globe and Mail bestselling author of The Porcelain Moon, The Library of Legends, and Dragon Springs Road
“Ambition, greed and privilege collide in City of the Muse, a captivating whodunit set during the Egyptology craze of the early 20th century. Kate Hilton’s richly drawn and well-researched novel reveals the all-too-often overlooked contributions made by women to archaeological research—and exposes the lengths to which some men will go in order to be the ones writing the history books.”
— BRYN TURNBULL, bestselling author of The Berlin Apartment
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