Chapter 28 · Beneath the White Fort

"Lynn, don't." Virrak's voice came through twenty feet of rubble and cracked stone. Faint. Wet-sounding.

I pressed my hand against the collapsed archway. Still warm where the explosion had hit. "Can you move?"

"No."

"Can you breathe?"

"For now." He coughed. Something rattled in his chest. "Listen to me. Whatever that door shows you, it's not worth—"

"I'm getting you out."

"You're not." His voice dropped. "We both know you're not. The whole north wing is down. You've got maybe an hour before the council's men regroup and come through that gap we just held."

I looked back at Aldric. He stood twenty paces away with his remaining captains, giving me space but not privacy. His expression said he'd already done the math. We'd lost sixteen men holding the pass. The black ice in my pocket pulsed against my ribs like a second heartbeat.

"There's another way," I said through the rubble.

"There isn't." Virrak's breath hitched. "And if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, the answer is no. You don't put that thing anywhere near the old throne."

"You told me the throne was a legend."

"I lied." Another cough. Softer.