Page 89 of Xantera
Hoping the sound will cover my not-so-stealthy footsteps, I follow like a shadow, holding my breath and tiptoeing in time with their steps.
Maybe they’ll lead me to where I’m hoping to go.
The servants make turn after turn, never looking back, and I try to memorize the directions as best as I can until their wheels cut to an abrupt stop.
Sinking into the shadows around the corner, I close my eyes and focus on the sounds.
A click. Hinges. More squeaking.
As soon as the carts seem to roll out of the narrow passageway, I muster every ounce of courage I can and sprint to the door as it begins to swing shut. Just before it does, I jam my fingers into the sliver of space still remaining. The door squeezes my fingers, but I bite my lip to avoid letting out a yelp.
With my fingers stinging and my throat so tight it’s hard to breathe, I peek through the tiny opening.
Across a grand hallway, through a wide glass doorway, large, ornate chairs with spiked backs sit in a line at the far end of the elaborate red and gold room.
Thrones.
I count them: thirteen.
One for each of the living Guardians, and one for the Guardian who met his demise.
The north wing. It has to be.
The sight makes me sick, so I glance to the next doorway over. Stacks and stacks ofbooksrise to the ceiling.
Up, up, up, my eyes follow columns of shelves. The books rise so high, they hit windows that are actually a part of the ceiling. The rays of a bloody sunset bounce around, hitting glass and mirrors, refracting off surfaces that give the books an unearthly but beautiful quality.
You’re missing out, Lucan, I whisper into the glaring absence in my own mind, although the truth is,I’mthe one missinghimright now. He probably realized that I’m a lost cause and decided to stop checking in. Or maybe he was actually starting to care for me and wanted to cut ties before I turn to stone and break his heart with my new sharp edges.
Either way, I haven’t come this far just to turn back now.
My resolve tightening, I slip through the doorway, out into the entrance of the north wing… and gasp when I turn my head and take in the unmistakable profile of the Third Guardian—in statue form.
My stomach slowly travels back to where it belongs, but my nerves still tingle as I behold the eleven other statues, six on each side, of all the Guardians. They’re terrifyingly lifelike, as if they’re watching my every movement even though I’m the only one here at the moment.
I don’t know where to go, but before I can flip a coin in my mind and decide, the door at the very end of the hallway opens with a loud creak.
I dive behind the Third Guardian’s statue, taking in the irony of this situation, as two servants appear carrying what is unmistakably a body on a stretcher—more than likely adeadbody.
The outline of a face, a strong nose, jutted chin, and round head protrudes from the white sheet covering it, and four fingers pokeout from beneath the sheet. As they pass in front of me, a servant notices the exposed body parts and tucks the sheet over them respectfully before they enter through another doorway that leads outside, judging by the cold gust of wind that sweeps through.
Sweat trickles down my back, and my hands ache as I clench them at my sides. I don’t like dead bodies. Beyond the obvious reasons, I’m quickly learning that they fill me with a sense of failure, like I didn’t do my job properly even though I was never called to heal whoever died. Did a Guardian snap their neck because they misbehaved? Or…
A female voice cuts through the air.
And not the robotic one that blares from the loudspeakers.
“....thinks that it might still be somewhere in the palace, but I’m not so sure.”
My chest pinches. I’m certain it’s an actual Guardian by her smooth tone, the cadence of her authoritarian words. And if she discovers me here, hiding behind this statue, I’ll be the next person carried on a stretcher.
Ever so slowly, I turn around to retreat back into the servant corridor—
Only to find the door has swung shut behind me. And when I press against it… locked.
Shit. Adrenaline lights up my nerves as the Guardian’s footsteps click closer.
“How could it be anywherebesidesthe palace? It’s not like the Chosen Ones can leave.”
