Lucas lowered his head. Even a soldier as hardened as he was could not meet Jay's eyes when saying this.
"The west wing collapsed during the second blast," he said."The Grand Duchess was still inside. We managed to pull her out, but—"
"But what?" Jay's voice rose, breaking.
"The wound to her chest is deep. A great deal of debris crushed her. The healing mages are trying… but her condition is unstable."
Jay did not wait for the sentence to finish.
He ran.
The castle corridors felt different now too narrow, too long, too slow. The stench of blood and smoke merged with memories from his childhood his mother's always-steady footsteps, the firm voice that never trembled, the back that stayed straight even when the world pressed down.
Jay burst into the healing chamber, heedless of anyone in his way.
His mother lay there.
