Chapter 300

　　"Get up," I whispered.

　　The sentinel did not move.

　　His neck sat at a sharp ninety-degree angle against the white marble.

　　The bone had snapped with a sound like a dry winter branch.

　　Fergus had done it without blinking.

　　Now the gallery was dead silent.

　　I looked up at the ceiling.

　　Painte...