"My queen—"
Elowen lifted a hand.
"I will not go inside the dungeon," she said. "I will hold a mouth. If the Walkers surface, they will meet authority. Not fear."
Mikhailis felt his stomach tighten.
She's going to put herself on the line because she refuses to let others burn in her place.
He hated it.
He respected it.
Lira's voice was soft, precise.
"Then I will prepare your ward kit," she said to Elowen, like this was as normal as preparing a cloak.
Serelith smiled.
"And I," she said, "will be where the pain is."
Elowen glanced at her.
"No," Elowen said.
Serelith blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Elowen," Mikhailis said, and his voice was gentle but firm, "she will go anyway."
Serelith's smile turned smug.
"See?" she purred.
Elowen exhaled.
"Then you go," she said to Serelith, "but you do not touch the core. You do not make bargains with what lives under stone."
Serelith placed a hand over her chest in mock offense.
"I am pure," she said.
Lira's tone was flat.
