Shyla wondered if she’d just made a huge mistake. Would Aphra sell her out? The woman could earn enough coins to not only travel but live in luxury in her new city by telling either the prince or priestess where to find the sun-kissed. Aphra was telling the truth about the professor, and she seemed genuine in considering Shyla’s invitation, but Shyla hadn’t delved any deeper into the woman’s secrets. Why not? Because she was too nice. She didn’t want to invade anyone’s privacy. Shyla needed to start being more…ruthless. Lives were at stake!

Shyla raced down to level forty-two, hoping to get to Zirdai’s only university before the students and faculty retreated to their rooms for the rest of the darkness. She located the guest quarters then found a dark shadow where she could wait and watch. The majority of people who walked by were either deep in conversation or intent on a scroll in their hands. And the few who were more observant suddenly had the desire to look elsewhere when they passed.

She tried not to think about Rendor. Of course his image immediately pervaded her mind. His harsh words sounded in her ear. Pain and loss filled the vast empty space inside her. Shyla clamped down on those emotions. She’d find him and somehow convince him to return. The right words would come to her by then.

Professor Emeline entered her room at angle two-forty. Aphra had been right, the skinny woman was easy to recognize. It appeared as if someone had grabbed the tip of her nose and yanked it straight down.

Once the woman closed the door, Shyla debated her next move. She did have something to offer the professor, but should she? Aphra had said her contact’s employer studied the artifacts to learn about their history, which was better than the Water Prince who kept everything in his private collection. However, the Invisible Swords needed coins and, if they overthrew the prince, all those treasures would be put on display and made available to the historians. Shyla would make sure of it.

When the corridor was empty, Shyla emerged from her shadow and knocked on the stained glass.

Professor Emeline slid the door open a crack. One eye regarded her. “Yes?”

“I’ve something that you might be interested in.”

The eye narrowed. “Like what?”

“An artifact of great historical significance.”

“Why come to me?”

“Aphra sent me.”

The door slid wider. “Come in.”

After Shyla entered, the professor glanced down the tunnel both ways before closing the door. Trol lanterns lit the room. Their bright yellow light illuminated a decent-sized living area with a desk and work table. She guessed the open archway beyond led to her sleeping quarters.

Emeline studied Shyla, her gaze sweeping her from head to toe. And by the slight sneer, Shyla guessed she was found lacking in some regard.

“What do you have?” the professor asked.