Page 358 of Burn of the Everflame

“The heartstone is gone. You destroyed it.”

She ran a thumb down the sword’s blood-covered blade, stopping at the dark grey gemstone embedded at its center. “Not all of it.”

Diem took a step toward me, and I jerked two more steps back. “That sword has already taken lives today,” I said. “Let those be the cost.”

She shook her head, looking anguished. “‘Three hearts entwined.’ I think I had to grow to love him. Maybe he had to love me back. And if I’m right”—she glanced at the two shimmering silhouettes still watching nearby—“then this has to come from someone who loves me, too.” She smiled sadly. “And no one loves me more than you.”

“I will never do this,” I growled. “I’ll never let anyone do it.” I grabbed the handle and swung the sword into the air, chucking it away.

Her feet crunched against the godstone-crusted ground as she trudged to the sword and picked it up. She took a moment to steady herself, breathing slow and deep, before speaking again.

“Luther,” she said firmly, “we have to end this.”

“We’ll lock him up. We’ll bury him somewhere so deep, no one will ever find him.”

“Someone will. Someday, somehow, he’ll get free, and I might not be around to stop him then. You said it yourself—it would be too great of a danger to the world.”

“Then let the world burn,” I snarled. “I’ll let every person on this gods-damned continent die at his hand before I’ll do this.”

“I’m not worth all those lives.”

“You are worth everything!” I shouted.

Diem sighed, looking up at the moon. “Lumnos told you to serve me, didn’t she? You’re her faithful heir.” She held out the sword again. “This is her command.”

“Fuck her command,” I bit back. “I’m done serving Lumnos.”

“Then serve me. Obey your Queen.”

“No.”

She closed her eyes, voice falling to a whisper. “You promised, my heart.”

“That promise means nothing.”

That seemed to break her in a way that nothing yet had. The light in her skin dimmed, and she deflated, sinking to the ground. Sorrow’s Edge fell from her hand, and her tears flowed anew, her body quivering as she wept. My instincts ignited with a need to end her pain—but how could I, if this was what it took?

“I can’t do it,” she sobbed. “I can’t wake up every day knowing everyone is at risk because of me. I can’t take knowing my happiness might be someone else’s doom. What kind of life is that, hating your own joy?”

My heart plunged. I knew Diem too well. She already carried the weight of Emarion on her shoulders—with Ophiucae’s specter hanging over the world, the worry would eat her alive. She would refuse herself any contentment, believing herself unworthy of its cost. I would spend centuries watching her suffer, knowing every laugh and smile I pulled out of her would only make her guilt worse. Nothing would stop the self-hatred she’d bring down on her own head.

Nothing but death.

My Diem—the lively, passionate, dream-filled woman I knew—was already gone. She was just waiting for me to love her enough to let her go.

“This is what you want?” I asked quietly. She looked back up, and the hope returning to her eyes was the fatal blow to my resolve.

“I’ve had so long to think about this, Luther. I was scared for a long time, but I’m not afraid anymore. I lived a good life. I’m proud of my choices. The gods didn’t decide my fate—I did.” She smiled, and this time, it shone with genuine peace. “My father and Teller are waiting. I’m ready to see them.”

One of the glowing silhouettes came to my side, its hand resting on my shoulder as I lowered to one knee. “Then I will keep my promise.”

Diem clutched my face in her hands and kissed me, her tears tasting of her gratitude and my defeat. “My loyal King, I knew you would not fail me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and held her close. “Wait for me on the other side. I’ll be right behind you.”

Diem went still. “What?”

“If our journey in this world must end, then we’ll step into the next one together. I won’t let you go alone.”