The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,60

don’t even get statues at home, and I’m a prince. Just saying.

The statue sums up my problem, though, mute as it is. Nimh kept a lot from me, and what I don’t know is why. I thought we were trusting each other—after what we just went through. I thought she wanted to help me.

But does she want to help me? Even more important, can she help me? If she’s the closest they’ve got to a mechanic and she doesn’t know what an engine is, then she’s not the answer I’m looking for.

Which means I need to find another way out of this mess. I’ve been here less than a day, and I’ve already nearly died three or four times. I have to find a way home, and as soon as I can.

The archives she mentioned feel like my best bet, but do I have any hope of searching a place like this for what I need? Saelis would know where to look. I’d give about anything to have him with me right now.

I try for a deeper, slower breath and look down at my chrono again, turning over my wrist and studying the display. I do it out of habit—it’s still not offering anything other than its off-line functions. I can see my bio readings are all still elevated, which is no surprise. I can read the time, and not much else.

I’m about to start counting the tiles again when the door swings halfway open. The woman standing in the doorway is a solemn-faced guard clad in black and gold, her dark braids drawn back from her face, with cheekbones you could cut yourself on. She’s strong too, muscles showing on her bare arms. Nimh seemed pretty quick with her spear thing, and she certainly handled those cultists in the forest, but I’m pretty sure this woman could snap me in half without breaking a sweat. Her light brown face is littered with a constellation of freckles, the only thing about her that’s not perfectly ordered.

But when she smiles, she’s suddenly much more human. “I’m here to take you to guest quarters,” she says. “You can wash there, change your clothes.”

This is my chance. I cast a farewell glance at my giant Nimh statue—wish me luck—and risk a smile in return. “Actually,” I say, walking toward the door, turning on my princely charm despite the fact that I’m completely filthy, “I was wondering if you could show me where the archives are. Ni—the Divine One told me they’re very impressive. I’m dying to see them.” Or rather, I’ll die here if I don’t get to see them.

She studies me for a moment, considering this. “You do not wish to eat first?”

My stomach tries to turn itself inside out in response. Yes! it yells. Yes, feed me!

“I can wait to eat,” I reply.

She inclines her head. “This way, then. My name is Elkisa.”

“North,” I offer in return.

“Your accent’s strange, North,” she says, studying me sidelong. Waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

“You think?” I reply, all innocence, shifting the topic. “So you work for the housekeeping team?” Her uniform is the same as those of the guards I saw before—if she’s anything like the security team at home, that question ought to divert her away from who I am. I’m far more interested in who she is.

She shoots me a sharp look. “I am one of the Divine One’s personal guards,” she replies, turning a corner with precision. “I volunteered to escort you.”

“Then I owe you.” I try to keep my tone light, as if I’m not relieved someone actually came to get me out of that place. “There were only so many laps of that room I could walk.”

“I am the one who owes you a debt,” she replies. There’s an intensity in her face that sobers me. She clears her throat. “You escorted her home safely, when we had failed. I wanted to meet you.”

She cares deeply for Nimh. That much is clear. “I’m generally less impressive in person,” I reply, fishing for another smile. I could use allies right now, and something tells me she might be one, if I play this right.

She opens a tall wooden door, pushing it inward and gesturing for me to walk through ahead of her.

I make it exactly three steps before I slow to a halt, my brain shorting out. The archives are like nothing I’ve ever seen. Vaulted ceilings soar at least three stories up into the air, lined with