“She went that way,” Julian gasped, pointing toward the emergency exit at the back of the archive.

He was lying; the exit was locked, and I was still standing ten feet away in the dark.

But his lie gave me a window.

The guards rushed past my cabinet, heading toward the rear door.

I stepped out of the shadows and slipped through the main doorway into the hallway.

The air in the corridor was damp and smelled of old stone.

I ran down the passage, my boots silent on the stone floor.

I needed to get back to the private suites before they locked down the palace.

I needed to read the pages I had taken.

The stairs loomed ahead of me.

I took them two at a time, my lungs burning.

When I reached the top landing, the heavy oak door was slightly ajar.

I peered through the crack.

The main gallery was empty, the polished marble floors reflecting the dim light of the chandeliers.

I stepped out, smoothing down my jacket to hide the bulge of the papers.