Page 182 of Burn of the Everflame

Tears I didn’t realize I’d shed fell from my cheeks and sizzled to steam in the fire. No words came—only a slight shake of my head.

“Show me what happened, Diem. I want to see it, too.”

I could not show him.

I would never show him.

I didn’t care if he hated me for it until the end of his days. I would not take his happy memories of our father and tarnish them with what I’d seen.

That memory would go to my death—and to Henri’s.

My head slowly turned to the man whose throat I still held in my grip. His face was tear-streaked, his eyes red and empty. He wasn’t fighting back or trying to explain. He knew exactly what awaited him, and he was accepting his end for the inevitability it was.

Just like my father had.

“You liar,” I snarled. “You coward—you heartless, spineless traitor!”

“I know,” he murmured, lowering his eyes. “I know.”

“Look at me.” The moon-grey flames rose with my volcanic rage. Henri winced as they burned through his clothes, leaving oozing welts across his skin.

“Diem,” he choked. “I am so sorry.”

“You kissed me at his funeral. Would you have fucked me, too? Would you have married me, knowing you were the reason he wasn’t there to see it?”

“I didn’t want to lose you. I wanted to fix things between us, try to make it right⁠—”

He cried out as a flame lashed at his swollen cheek.

“Things will never be right!” I screamed. “You stole him from me when I needed him most. You took the only place in the world I felt safe, and you let them paint it with his blood. And you did it to hurt me, because my pain was useful.”

That was the part that hurt the most. My grief had not been an unavoidable consequence of Henri’s choice—it had been the goal.

Voices called out my name while gryverns roared, and magic from several realms swirled in a losing attempt to quell my flames. A familiar aura brushed at my back, neither asking nor insisting, merely reminding me that he was with me, wherever this may lead.

The blaze roared higher as I pulled Henri’s face closer to mine. “You’re the reason he’s dead. Do you understand that? He never would have let them come inside if not for you. You told yourself that Vance and Brant were to blame, but trusting you was the thing that really killed him.”

“I know,” Henri whispered.

Oceans of tears surged over both our faces, a violent tide come to sweep us away.

“You don’t deserve to burn. You deserve to freeze for eternity in hell. I hope the Old Gods trap your soul in a glacier so you never get to feel a moment of warmth ever again.” A blade crafted of shadow and ice took shape in my hand. “And I think that eternity should start right now.”

He gave a limp, defeated nod. I lifted the blade to his chest, and he finally met my stare. “Please, Diem—let my death be the end of it. Don’t take it out on Lana or the baby. They shouldn’t suffer for my mistakes.”

The reminder of his unborn child jolted me from my rage-fueled frenzy, letting the screaming around me break through.

“Please, Diem,” Lana sobbed. “Don’t do this.”

“Your Majesty,” Alixe shouted, “the camps—they’re burning!”

“Let me do it,” Teller barked.

“Diem Bellator, you owe me a debt.” Across a field of flickering silver fury, the rough stare of Brecke Holdern gazed back. “‘One favor, to be chosen and called in at some later date.’ That’s the agreement we made.”

It took a moment to remember that night in a Fortos tavern, when I’d traded a favor for the finest dagger I’d ever held.

“I’m calling in your debt,” Brecke shouted. “Let Henri go.”