Chapter 29 · A Poisoned Gift

"Let go of me, Cane, or I swear I'll cut your hand off." Lyra drove her elbow into his ribs.

He caught her wrist before the second strike landed and slammed it against the cracked stone beside her head. The wall shook. Red light spilled between them from the broken heatstone, painting her face in sharp, bloody flashes.

"Try it," he said. "But you're not walking into that throne alone."

"I'm not walking anywhere. I'm being dragged by a stubborn idiot who thinks dying for me makes him noble."

"I don't care about noble."

"No? You keep grabbing me every time the ruins pull me toward that thing."

Behind them, the buried presence shifted.

The sound rolled through the chamber like a mountain grinding its teeth. Dust dropped from the ceiling. The stone beneath Cane's boots tilted hard, and Lyra's shoulder struck his chest. He hooked an arm around her waist before the floor could throw her into the widening crack.

She went rigid against him.

His hand was spread over the side of her coat. Her body felt hot through the soaked fabric. Too hot.