I couldn't find the artifact. I wasn't smart, clever, or quick enough.
The thought haunted me as Fable raced through hallways, searching for the church's quarters. Finding those was our best chance, but I was already beginning to doubt. Why would the church's rooms be on the lower floors of the palace? Would they really allow themselves to reside in the same places as servants and slaves?
The answer was obvious. Father Ithris had chaperoned me around for months, and as well as he knew me, I knew him. He wouldn't even look at me when I was wearing the plain white slave dress, and he'd never once spoken with a servant without turning his nose up in disdain.
"How couldn't I see it? Did I want to hope that badly?" I whispered, tears threatening to spill.
