The Relic (Sacrisvita Book 3) Read online

  THE RELIC

  SACRISVITA BOOK III

  Dylan Steel

  THE RELIC: SACRISVITA BOOK III

  Dylan Steel

  Heritage Publishing

  Copyright © 2016

  www.DylanSteel.com

  Cover design by Flappy Dog Designs.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ALSO BY DYLAN STEEL

  1. MR. STRICK

  2. NOTHING BAD TO SAY

  3. LITA

  4. BEDTIME INTERRUPTION

  5. THE VAGABOND

  6. SPOTTED

  7. YELLOW

  8. A VISITOR

  9. EVASION

  10. TRADITION

  11. A PRESENT

  12. SECRETS

  13. THE WINNER

  14. INTERRUPTED

  15. CHANGES

  16. HIDING

  17. THE BUSY SEASON

  18. THE DONATION

  19. WANDERING

  20. THREATENED

  21. TETHERED

  22. UNWISE

  23. RELIC

  24. SENTENCING

  25. UNPROTECTED

  THE ESTATE: SACRISVITA BOOK IV - EXCERPT

  READ MORE BY DYLAN STEEL

  ALSO BY DYLAN STEEL

  Sacrisvita

  THE PRODIGY: A Sacrisvita Prequel

  (FREE and only available HERE.)

  THE INSTITUTION: Sacrisvita Book I

  THE ARCHIVES: Sacrisvita Book II

  THE RELIC: Sacrisvita Book III

  THE ESTATE: Sacrisvita Book IV

  THE VANISHED: Sacrisvita Book V

  THE CAPTIVE: Sacrisvita Book VI

  THE OUTCAST: Sacrisvita Book VII

  THE TRIALS: Sacrisvita Book VIII

  THE ROGUE: Sacrisvita Book IX

  THE CITIZEN: Sacrisvita Book X

  THE SURVIVOR: Sacrisvita Book XI

  ***

  Third Earth

  SLEEPER: A Third Earth Prequel

  (FREE and only available HERE.)

  ALONE: Third Earth Volume One

  ***

  For the most updated list of Dylan’s books, visit www.DylanSteel.com.

  Join Dylan’s Insiders Club to find out when her next book is out! Plus, get an exclusive prequel scene to Sacrisvita.

  1. MR. STRICK

  “Careful. He’s in a terrible mood today,” Penelope warned.

  Sage rolled her eyes as they passed in the hallway. “He’s always in a terrible mood.” She pushed open the classroom door.

  Penelope bit her lip and looked back at the room uncertainly before walking away.

  Sage shrugged off her friend’s concern as she made her way to an empty desk near the back of the class. She set down her databook and sank into the chair.

  Glancing back at the doorway, she watched as the rest of her classmates trickled in. She let out a sigh of relief when Carnabel picked a seat on the other side of the room, but she had trouble hiding her irritation when Everett plunked his things on the desk beside hers.

  She forced her eyes forward. Their instructor was hunched over his databook, frantically swiping his finger across the screen, mumbling to himself. He slapped his palm down on his desk suddenly but didn’t look up, unaware that he had startled all the students. His brow furrowed further, but his eyes remained fixed on the tablet in front of him. Clearly, something on his screen held his full attention, and it was making him quite unhappy.

  Mr. Strick was perfectly unremarkable in height and stature, and his hair hung limply over his ears and forehead, often shadowing his already dark eyes. But he was precisely the type of instructor that the Institution loved. He was fiercely loyal to Eprah and didn’t stand for any talk that would paint the cherished nation in a negative light.

  It was no surprise that he had taken over the majority of the classes that Mr. Walsh had suddenly left unattended in his absence. The Institution wanted to be sure it remained in complete control of every aspect of its charges’ education, and Mr. Strick was just the man for the job.

  Only Sage knew why the former history instructor had disappeared, and despite the overwhelming urge to chime in when her classmates were busy speculating, she hadn’t told anyone.

  She hadn’t told anyone that she’d gone against every instinct—that her whole being screamed at her when she admitted what Mr. Walsh had encouraged her to research all year.

  She hadn’t told anyone that she snuck into the Archives’ basement after meeting with Mr. Gramples and Mr. Gaztok—that she’d attempted to warn Mr. Walsh. That she had hidden and watched silently as Dignitary of the Peace officers found and arrested the only instructor who seemed to care about her. That she’d watched them drag him out of the Archives through an underground exit.

  She hadn’t told anyone those secrets. Penelope suspected something was wrong, but she hadn’t pressed Sage for answers. And Sage was grateful for that. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone—even Penelope. She hated herself for what she’d done.

  A tone sounded, signaling the official start of the class. The stragglers sprinted to grab a seat before their instructor could look up and reprimand them.

  Several minutes passed, and the students began fidgeting. Mr. Strick hadn’t said a word yet. His eyes were still glued to the screen in front of him.

  Silence gave way to a light hum as the Level Nines started whispering. Sage wondered what could be so important that Mr. Strick hadn’t even noticed class was supposed to have started already. He was usually quite eager to instill Eprah’s accolades into the young minds in his care.

  “Um, Mr. Strick?” Marnie piped up hesitantly from the front row as the volume in the room steadily grew.

  A cup soared through the air, aimed in Marnie’s general direction. Dark brown liquid spilled along its trail and seemed to explode along with the cup when it finally hit the ground. Sage was especially glad she’d chosen to sit so far back today—the shattered cup had managed to drench the students in the center of the first four rows.

  “Quiet!” he hissed without looking up.

  Marnie and her fellow soaked classmates sat still, frozen in disbelief. No one said a word.

  Mr. Strick squinted and craned his neck closer to the databook. His eyes continued to dart back and forth across the screen. Without warning, he stood quickly, slamming the databook against his desk.

  He gritted his teeth. “Turn to chapter three,” he addressed the class without explanation.

  “Sir?” Pippa started cautiously.

  Mr. Strick flashed her a look of warning. “Chapter three.”

  Pippa seemed to debate for a moment whether or not to ask her question. She closed her mouth and turned her attention to her databook, tucking a wet clump of hair behind her ear.

  Sage suppressed a grin. She was pretty sure she knew what Pippa wanted to ask. Poor Pippa and the others would likely have to stay wet the rest of the class. He was in no mood to excuse them to clean up after his outburst.

  “Independent reading today, class. And there will be a quiz on the material later this week.” He bent over the desk, balancing his weight on the tips of his fingers. “You all know today’s the deadline for deciding which Interest Society you’ll join this year. I hope you’ve made your selection already because I’ll be calling each of you up to take your official requests.”

  Mr. Strick sat back down and tapped his databook
a couple times, clearly still irritated.

  “Laana, you’re first.”

  The girl looked mortified. She stood and began timidly making her way to the front of the room as slowly as she dared.

  Sage didn’t envy her, but she didn’t feel particularly bad for her either. Everyone was an equal target for Mr. Strick’s anger.

  She tried to focus on the assigned reading, but her mind wandered. Interest Society choices had to be made today. After spending two weeks trying out some of the different options, her choice had been easy. She just wished she could inform a different instructor. Everything about Mr. Strick made her nervous and uncomfortable, and she didn’t want to spend more time around him than was absolutely necessary.

  The steady rhythm of students walking to and from his desk made it nearly impossible to concentrate. That, and the general dread she felt of hearing her name called.

  “Sage.” Mr. Strick’s voice yanked her out of her thoughts.

  She set her databook down and stood, making her way toward the front of the classroom.

  “First choice.” He didn’t even look up. The command came as soon as she was standing beside his desk. He didn’t bother posing it as a question.

  Sage hesitated.

  “Indarra?” He finally peeled his eyes from his databook to look at her. “Do I need to make the choice for you?”

  “No, sir.” Sage bit the inside of her cheek. “I know which one I want.”

  Mr. Strick sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. “Well, which is it? I’m not going to guess.”

  “The Historical Interest Society,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  His eye twitched. He raised an eyebrow and spoke a bit more quietly. “You know we encourage you to select a different Interest each year.”

  “I know.”

  “And you know that I’ve taken over that particular Interest Society? That, unless something changes, you would be reporting to me at the end of the year?”

  Sage nodded. She could feel her face reddening.

  He leaned forward and spoke in a voice low enough that only Sage could hear. “We both know what happened to my predecessor,” he growled, “and we both know the role you played in it. This doesn’t seem wise, girl.”

  She swallowed hard, pushing down the bile she felt rising in her throat.

  “I feel I was cheated last year, sir,” she continued, ignoring the barb. “I should have had more time to study a more narrow topic.”

  His eyes narrowed into slits. “I see. Have you a second and third choice?”

  “No, sir.” She shook her head. No one ever needed a second choice for the Historical Interest Society—it wasn’t exactly in high demand.

  “Very well.” Mr. Strick glared at her. “Your preference will be taken into account. But I make no promises to you. As you know, there are many factors that play into your ultimate assignment. Now take your seat, Ms. Indarra.”

  Sage returned to her desk and exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.

  Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she should have made a different choice. But she knew she owed Mr. Walsh something. And she was more convinced than ever that Eprah was hiding some secrets of its own.

  2. NOTHING BAD TO SAY

  “I can’t believe you’re doing it again.” Penelope tugged up a blade of grass.

  Sage shrugged. “Turns out it’s interesting.” She dug her finger into the damp earth in the shadow of the wooden beams.

  Penelope stopped chaining the grass necklace and stared at her. “You’re kidding, right? You remember how I was there with you? The whole year?” She shook her head and turned her attention back to tying knots in blades of grass. “I mean, it could’ve been a lot worse, but it definitely wasn’t fun.”

  “Didn’t say it was,” Sage mumbled. Her knuckle turned white as she pressed the dirt into a small hill.

  “Ok, but you know Mr. Strick is the one running it now, right? How in the name of Eprah can you possibly want to spend any more time than you have to with him? He’s awful!”

  Sage said nothing. She couldn’t disagree. Mr. Strick scared her. And she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the extra time with him, but she still needed answers. The Archives was the only place that seemed to have any.

  Penelope frowned. “Sage? Why did you pick the Historical Interest Society again?”

  “I told you. It’s interesting.”

  “Are we really doing this again?” She crossed her arms.

  “What do you mean?” Sage feigned ignorance.

  “You’re not telling me something.” Penelope furrowed her brow.

  “I can’t always tell you everything, Pen.” Sage bit her lip and looked away. “It’s not like I don’t want to. But really, you already know why I picked that Society.”

  “I know you were obsessed with that book last year.” Penelope shook her head. “What ever happened to it anyways?”

  “Nothing. It’s still in the Archives.” Sage’s gaze fell on the fence that confined them to the yard. What she wouldn’t give to be able to walk out its gates and into freedom.

  “I thought you kept it?”

  “No,” Sage said sadly. “I had to leave it there. I wasn’t really supposed to take it—” she stopped abruptly. A memory of Mr. Walsh flashed to the forefront of her mind. She could still see his face twisted up in pain as the officers shoved him to the ground and arrested him.

  She twisted her neck around so that Penelope wouldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. Her vision blurred, but she focused on a building beyond the iron bars until she could see clearly again.

  Sage blinked. For a moment, she thought she was seeing things, but then excitement overtook her as she realized she knew the person walking on the other side of the street.

  “Hey, look!” She jabbed Penelope’s shin and scrambled to her feet. “It’s Rosalind!”

  “Really?” Penelope pushed off the ground excitedly.

  The two girls rushed toward the fence.

  “Rosalind!” Sage called loudly. “Hey!”

  The young woman looked up, startled. She hesitated, brushing her hand over her bracelet thoughtfully before crossing over toward them.

  “Hi, ladies.” Rosalind forced a smile. She was wearing a gorgeous red knee-length dress. Her hair was perfectly smoothed into place under a small black cap with netting partly covering her face, accenting her cherry-red lips.

  She should have looked beautiful, but a sort of tired sadness hung behind her eyes, darkening them.

  “You ok?” Sage studied her face with concern.

  “Fine.” The corner of her mouth twitched.

  “What are you doing out here?” Penelope pressed eagerly.

  She hesitated. “I’m running an errand. For my benefactor. He—”

  “Oooh, the benefactor. How is he?” Penelope interrupted. She couldn’t hide her excitement over the fact that she knew someone who had a benefactor.

  Rosalind gaped at her. “Well,” she said slowly, staring at her wrist as she ran a finger over her bracelet, “I can’t say anything bad about him.” Her eyebrows wrinkled, and she pressed her lips together.

  “I really can’t,” she mumbled softly. She raised her eyes up and met Sage’s gaze.

  “I knew it. I knew they were amazing,” Penelope gushed. “I hope I get one someday.”

  An alarmed look flashed over Rosalind’s face as Penelope continued rambling. She opened her mouth and then seemed to think better of saying something, so she snapped it closed.

  “Are you pregnant yet?” Penelope blurted out.

  Rosalind’s face reddened. “Even if I were, it’d be too early to tell.”

  She turned her attention to Sage, quickly changing the subject. “So how’s Level Nine going so far? Staying out of trouble?”

  Sage blushed. “So far. But I’ve requested the same Society again, so I’m not sure what they’d do to me this time.” That wasn’t entirely true. She was constantly terrifi
ed that she’d be shunned for doing something minor—probably for looking at Mr. Strick the wrong way.

  “Historical Interest, huh?” Rosalind cocked her head. “That’s not a very popular choice,” she mused. “And if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Strick is overseeing that at present.”

  Sage ignored the implied question. She didn’t want to explain her decision when even she wasn’t completely sure why she’d picked it. She just knew she felt she had to.

  “Ros, are you sure you’re ok?” Sage asked again.

  “I miss Kai,” she admitted, then straightened. “But it doesn’t matter. We both have to move on. Maybe if I wasn’t paired with…” she trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes.

  Rosalind clasped her hand around her bracelet and looked Sage squarely in the eyes. “But I am, and it doesn’t do either one of us any good to dwell on ifs and maybes. We have separate lives now,” she said resolutely.

  Sage flinched as an electrified pinch swept over her body. The free play period was over.

  “Zeptobes?” Rosalind didn’t wait for an answer. “You should go. Wouldn’t want to get you two in trouble. I should be going anyways. I’m almost late.”

  “Later, Ros. Glad we got to see you.” Penelope turned and started toward the front of the yard.

  “Bye, Ros.” Sage turned to follow her friend.

  “Oh, Sage?” Rosalind paused, rubbing her wrist.

  “Yeah?” Sage stopped. “What?”

  “Just… Just be careful. I’ve heard things about Mr. Strick. He’s—well, he’s nothing like Mr. Walsh, you know.” Rosalind looked for a moment like she wanted to say something more, but she just turned and hurried back to the other side of the street, stepping quickly to make her appointment.

  Sage watched as her old mentor walked away and then sprinted to the front of the yard before the instructors could accuse her of dawdling.

  3. LITA

  Sage held her breath as she slipped out the doorway and ducked into the hall.

  Mr. Gramples’ Archives’ orientation had taken longer than she remembered. She didn’t know how he managed to fill so much time just welcoming them to the Archives and warning them not to mess anything up.