Chapter 5
LUTHER
Idreamed of her again.
I dreamed of her every night. Sometimes I dreamed of the calm, simple life we’d once envisioned—a humble cottage nestled in her beloved woods, surrounded by friends and family, untroubled by the threat of war.
Others were nightmares, vivid images of all the times I’d nearly lost her and all the terrible ways I could lose her still.
But some nights—like tonight—I didn’t dream of joy or terror, I dreamed of her life on the island.
And some nights—like tonight—those dreams were worse than the nightmares could ever be.
In this dream, it was raining. The torrential downpour must have been going on for hours, judging from the puddles that filled every dip in the island’s soil. Diem was hunched inside an arch in the Kindred’s Temple, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.
She looked miserable. Her soaking-wet cloak did nothing to hide her violent shivers, and her lips were a faint shade of blue that set my godhood roaring.
Protect her, it demanded. Protect her. Protect her.
I knelt beside her, knowing she wouldn’t see me. In these dreams, she never did. I followed her stare and saw the object of her focus: a glittering black door laying open in the brush.
“That’s Ophiucae’s cell, isn’t it?” I asked her. “The one the Crowns trapped him in during the Blood War?”
She couldn’t hear me, either.
She closed her eyes and drew in a few ragged breaths. Each one exhaled as a cloud in the frosty air. Nights in the Arboros forests were cold, but tolerable. Were conditions on the island truly so much worse, or was my mind inventing her suffering to punish myself for leaving her behind?
She flexed her fingers as if trying to warm them up, then wiped uselessly at the droplets streaming down her face. As her head sank back against the Temple, she flinched and rubbed at her skull.
Save her, my godhood snarled.
I reached to touch her cheek, but my hand moved through her like empty air. “Get out of the rain, my heart.”
Lightning illuminated her face as her eyelids slowly cracked open. Those smoke-grey eyes that had captured my soul from the moment I first saw them, once so bright and full of fire, had darkened nearly to black.
Exhaustion radiated off her as strongly as her aura once had. She was tired and freezing and injured. And she was alone—the one thing I had vowed she’d never be.
Another promise broken.
“Go in the cell,” I pleaded. “It does not make you him.”
I knew Diem’s feelings toward her sire held conflicting emotions.
Her resolve to protect the people of Emarion was tangled up with grief over Andrei’s death and her compassion for all who’d been wronged, even when their drive for justice became a thirst for blood.
When it came to Ophiucae, there was no sense wondering whether Diem hated him, feared him, sympathized with him, or loved him. I doubted even she could answer that.
But I knew one thing for certain: she feared becoming him. She’d admitted as much in those perfect days we’d spent alone together in Sophos. She feared what it meant to carry his blood, and what might become of her if she took his life—or if she didn’t.
Her fingers traced the brand he’d left on her skin, a ten-pointed star in the hollow of her throat. She took in another deep breath and pulled stiffly to her feet, then turned for the stairs. The wet cloak slid off her shoulders and fell to the ground with a smack.
My heart dropped into my stomach. The soaked clothes plastered to her revealed a body that was shockingly thin. Through a rip in the back of her tunic, her spine was visible under sallow skin. Clothes that once clung to her stunning curves now looked shapeless and loose.
It’s just a dream, I told myself.
My godhood was unpersuaded. It trembled inside me, desperate to somehow protect her. I followed close by as she grabbed her cloak and limped down the steps, her whimpers of pain tearing my soul into shreds. When she took the last step, her foot slipped on the mud, and she tumbled to the ground.
For a long time, she didn’t rise. Long enough that I began to fear the fall had wounded more than her spirit.
I knelt and laid my palm on her back. Though the cruel dream would not allow the comfort of touch, I imagined the beat of her heart, the warmth of her skin, and the pulse of her astounding godhood every time it rose to dance with mine.
“Fight,” I begged.
She lifted her head. The mud that had splattered her face had not dulled the fearsome savagery of her beauty. Her eyes glittered with a rage that resonated in my bones. She had always turned to anger in her darkest moments. For once, I was grateful for it.
“Fight,” I growled.
She pushed up to her knees, then slowly rose again to her feet. Inch by excruciating inch, she limped toward the open cell.
She stopped at the entrance and stared down at the darkness. One foot hovered above the first step, then she pulled it back. Her brows crowded low.
“You need the shelter,” I urged her. “It’s just a room.”
She flinched at a clap of thunder. She rushed three steps down before stopping again. A long minute passed as she gazed into the shadows.
“I’m a coward,” she whispered, barely audible over the flapping of her clothes in the gusty wind. “How will I face him when I’m scared of an empty cell?”
Her shoulders sank. Her gaze slid west, toward Lumnos.
She trudged back up the steps, then set off at a slow limp alongside a patch of crimson flowers.
She knelt to grab a few of the blooms, and her grip slipped on the stems. Her fist came away with a handful of mangled petals that looked like a splatter of blood in her palm.
“They deserve better than this,” she murmured. Her arm fell limp at her side, and her shoulders began to quake. Soft, broken sobs trembled out of her as she sagged to the ground. “They deserved better than me.”
I thought nothing would ever be worse than hearing Diem’s screams after her father’s murder.
Then I saw the light leave her eyes when she discovered my godstone injury in Umbros, and her hope in our future collapsed.
Those moments had left scars as real as the ones on my skin, but at least we’d had each other.
I’d held her in my arms, and we’d endured those trials together.
But watching the love of my life weep in the freezing rain, injured and alone, blaming herself for every loss, and knowing there was nothing I could do but be a spectator to her despair .
. . no pain could compare. It didn’t matter that this was a dream.
I knew in my heart that she was alive on that island, having nights like this more often than I could bear to consider.
The Blessed Mother had spared my soul so I could ensure she fulfilled her destiny.
But Diem’s fate was not on that island.
And mine was not in Arboros.
The vision turned murky as the waking world grew nearer. I lay on the soil beside Diem, then gave my mind over to the last remnants of the fading dream.
I forced myself to feel the bite of the wind, the chill of the rain, the scratch of the grass beneath my cheek.
I draped my arm forward and imagined pulling her body into mine to lend her warmth and strength.
I whispered in her ear to remind her of all the reasons I served her, then all the reasons I loved her.
It was those final words—Remember, my Queen. Remember I love you.—that hung on my lips as I awoke to my warm, dry tent, faintly aglow with predawn light.
I didn’t even bother to grab my sword before I threw open the flap. Auralie was already awake, talking with Cordellia.
“Luther,” she said, looking me over with a frown. “Your clothes . . . why are they w—”
“We’re going to Lumnos,” I announced.
Auralie bristled. Cordellia raised her brows in tacit approval. For once, our goals were aligned.
“I changed my mind,” I said. “Cordellia is right. We need to act now. The cost of waiting is too high to pay.”
Auralie considered me. “And if we make our demands, and they say no?”
“Then no will be the last word they ever speak.”