Chapter 36 · Rule the Wall

"Say it again," I said. "Slower. I want the whole wall to hear how dumb it sounds."

Warlord Russek didn't like that. You could tell by the tight line of his jaw and thirty years of men stepping back whenever he spoke.

I didn't step back. Not anymore.

"Your claim is unproven," he barked. "A rogue medic walks in with two kids and a syringe, and Ironcrest is supposed to bow?"

Julian's shoulder hit my hip, heavy and burning.

He was down on the frozen stone. One fist dragged the hem of my coat tight against his chest. The other splayed out on the pavers, shaking hard under his weight—silver hole straight through that forearm from twelve hours ago. Dark, dried blood crusted his chin. Every ragged breath in made something deep in his spine click.

Nine warlords behind Russek. Nine men who'd climbed the north ramp just to watch me crumble.

They had watched Julian break armies with three words. Now he was on his knees at my boots, half-dead, and he wasn't trying to stand.

Six years ago he signed my exile order on that high altar and didn't even look up.

Now he couldn't look anywhere else.