“Elf friends?” Astrid asks. The topic’s a welcome distraction, something to focus on rather than that throbbing in her foot. Filling in the blanks, learning more about what happened while they were separated, feeling the warmth of Lazar’s arm through hers. “We made some weird ones down below, too. Dwarves.”

Her foot drags behind her. A hitch of indrawn breath. At least the Necropolis paths are more exactingly carved, rather than all the uneven earth and hewn tunnels in the depths. It’s going to be annoying having to stay off her feet once they’re back home.

“What happened?”