The stone armor released all at once.
It crumbled.
The plates separated cleanly at every joint and dropped to the wet dungeon floor in a cascade of heavy clanks, scattering across the stone around his feet.
Lor rolled his shoulders, free again, the dungeon air cool against his bare skin after the sealed heat of the armor.
Sweat cooled along the lines of his back and chest. He looked down at Aurora.
Still face-down on the wet floor. Silver hair spread around her like spilled moonlight, soaking up the shallow water.
Not moving.
The rise and fall of her back was slow, deep. Unconscious.
He crouched, hooked a hand under her arm, and dragged her across the floor toward the far wall — the one furthest from the doors, solid and thick, older stone than the rest.
She was heavier than she looked.
Or perhaps just more resistant, even unconscious.
Her body scraped wetly across the stone, the sound soft and continuous.
Her silver braid trailed behind her, unravelling strand by strand.
