Page 77 of Stealing Infinity (Stolen Beauty)

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“You did well today. Really,” Braxton says as I walk alongside him.

After spending most of dinner conducting a mental review of the long list of things I need to improve (my equestrian skills at the top of the list), it’s nice to hear. Still, I can’t help venting some of my frustration when I say, “But there’s so much to learn. So much to—”

Braxton steers me into an elevator I didn’t even notice until the doors slide open before me.

“Where are we going?” I ask, watching the floor numbers race by at a pace way faster than it feels from inside.

“You’ll see.” He shoots me a cryptic, squinty-eyed gaze, and while I hate to admit it, that’s all it takes to set my pulse racing.

When we arrive, we pass through a long and narrow hallway that leads to a single steel door at the end. Then I watch as he pushes his thumb to a keypad, and the door opens to a room so wondrous, it’s like being suspended in moonlight.

“It’s not a hologram,” he says before I can ask. “It’s all real.”

The room is large, rectangular in shape, and made entirely of glass. And I meaneverything—the floor, the ceiling, the walls, all of it—and through some miraculous feat of engineering, it soars straight out of the rock, with absolutely no sign of support. It literally hangs in midair, allowing for an uninterrupted view of the world beyond. And as I move across the crystal clear floor, it feels like I’m walking through space.

“How is this even possible?” I gaze past my shoes to the foam-tipped black waves of the turbulent sea crashing below, marveling at how only a whisper of glass keeps me from hurtling straight into a watery grave.

Cautiously, I make my way to the far wall, press my palms to the pane, and stare in wonder at a sky full of stars and a waxing moon that’s slightly fuller than it was the night before.

No sign of the lighthouse, though. I must be looking at the dark side of the rock.

“This is amazing,” I whisper. “I mean, I can’t even fully wrap my head around how—”

Just then, a swell of classical music cuts into the space, filling the room.

And when I turn, I find Braxton standing before me, his jacket abandoned, his sleeves rolled up, and a shiny silver dagger gripped in his hand.