Chapters (46)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
She waited until the footsteps faded and glanced into the corridor. Empty. Kyra took her chance and ran down the hallway. The candles cast flickering shadows that settled somewhat as she stopped outside the door.
The knob didn’t turn. Kyra hadn’t expected it to, but she never knew when someone would forget and save her some work. She looked around again—still safe. Kyra inserted a thin piece of metal into the bottom of the keyhole, twisting it and maintaining pressure as she reached for her lock pick. Some thieves favored sets of picks in different shapes and sizes, but Kyra preferred to carry just one. It required more practice, but one was lighter, simpler, and quieter to carry. Kyra kept twisting the lock as she inserted the lock pick into the top of the keyhole, delicately pushing up tumblers one by one. She knew this lock well by now. The first tumbler to give was about two-thirds of the way in. Then it was the innermost tumbler.
She stayed alert for sounds as she worked. If a guard passed, she’d have to run and start over. Tonight, however, she teased up the last tumbler without incident. The lock clicked open. Tucking her tools back into her belt, Kyra slid into the empty room and locked the door behind her.
The room was lined with cabinets, with a few desks in the middle. By now, she knew that older records were kept in the cabinets while newer ones were usually on the desks. She took a pile of records from the nearest desk, making note of their position and order, and took them to the window, shuffling through in the dim light until she found the one she wanted. Kyra then replaced the rest, fished out a pen and parchment from her belt, and grabbed an ink bottle from the table.
She copied the record line by line. Bella had taken it upon herself to teach Kyra how to read and write a few years ago, and Kyra was glad she had. James’s surprised look when she’d told him had been worth it. It took a good half hour to copy the whole thing, but finally she capped the ink bottle and returned the original to its place. She blew on her parchment, then crept back toward the door and pressed her ear against the wood. It was quiet outside.