Chapter Eleven
The Breaking Point
The western passage narrowed until Willow had to turn sideways.
Stone pressed against one shoulder. Ancient timber scraped the other. Dust coated her tongue, and the air inside the walls tasted of cold mortar, dry rot, and generations of secrets.
Behind her, Iron Glass remained silent.
Too silent.
Willow moved without light, one hand trailing along the rough interior beams while the other stayed near the paring knife strapped to her forearm.
Left at the split.
Down the short ladder.
Past the collapsed flue.
Then north toward the old armory.
She had traveled pieces of this route before, but never the entire length. Victor had allowed her to explore the eastern servant spine because he wanted her to believe it belonged to her.
The western passage
