Soul of the Sentinel by E. E. Holmes

Author:E. E. Holmes [Holmes, E. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lily Faire Publishing
Published: 2019-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

11

Trust

BY THE TIME I REACHED THE HALLWAY where the archive was located, I was fighting a strange, almost overwhelming urge to throw the statue from me. It had become increasingly apparent, as I traversed hallway after hallway, that I was carrying something significant in both physical weight and spiritual weight—indeed, the longer I held it, the more conviction I felt that Fiona had wandered for the first time into true prophecy.

A sliver of light at the end of the hallway caught my eye, and I froze. The door to the archive was slightly ajar, and gold light was spilling out into the hallway, slicing the darkness and casting strange shadows on the ceiling.

Only two people in the castle had access to the keys to that archive, as far as I was aware: me and Fiona. And since Fiona was currently down in her studio nursing a Muse-induced headache, I knew that whoever had opened that door had either picked the lock or forced it. My heart hammering a rapid tattoo against my ribcage, I crept forward, closing the distance between myself and the open door, placing each footstep deliberately and clamping a hand down over my cardigan pocket to silence the quiet jingle of the keys.

As I drew closer, a quiet series of noises met my ears, emanating from inside the archive. A rustling sound, like papers being shuffled, punctuated by an occasional dull, muffled clunk. It sounded like whoever was on the other side of the door was searching through the artwork. I looked down at the statue in my arms and froze. Whoever was inside that archive, I knew I didn’t want them to catch a glimpse of the sculpture—we didn’t know what it meant, and so it would be dangerous to let anyone else see it. I spotted a niche in the wall where another statue stood, this one an innocuous rendering of two Durupinen girls holding hands. I pushed this statue aside, slid Fiona’s sculpture behind it, and pulled the niche statue in front of it again so that it was hidden from view. Satisfied, I crept closer to the archive.

Just outside the door, I stopped and, on sudden inspiration, started staring around wildly for something I could use as a weapon. I wasn’t sure who at Fairhaven I would have to use a weapon against, but my time as a Tracker had taught me to take nothing for granted. Whoever was in that archive had broken in, which meant their motives were already suspect. I spotted a second niche in the wall, this one containing a large porcelain vase. It looked small enough that I could wield it in one hand, but when I grasped it and tried to pull it from its place, the weight of it nearly pulled me over right onto my face. I was barely able to muster the arm strength to keep it from hitting the ground. Gripping it tightly with both hands and trying to quiet my breathing, which

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