Chapter 42
DIEM
Iripped free of Henri’s memories, and I found the world in flames. Not the orange ones of Ignios magic or the mortal world, but a dancing wall of scorching silver-white. Without thinking, I’d released the crowd from my mental hold, sending them all stumbling back and shouting.
All except for Teller, who was standing in the heart of the fire, unburnt.
“What did you see in his mind?” he demanded.
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.”
“Fuck your favor,” I yelled back. “He’s a murderer.”
“It’s not him I’m trying to save.” He tried to come closer, though the blistering heat held him back. “Look around, Diem. If you do this, more will be lost than his life.”
Thousands of eyes were on me, waiting to see what I did next.
Unlike at the Challenging, when the crowd had craved a bloody execution, my army had no taste for death—at least not Henri’s.
Maybe they’d forgive me once they learned what he’d done.
Or maybe I would forever be the vengeful, murderous Queen who slaughtered her own.
Maybe I didn’t care.
“Don’t let him take more from you than you’ve already lost,” Brecke pleaded.
“I’ll do it,” Teller insisted. “I don’t care what they think of me.”
“Teller, no,” Lily cried. Her sweet face pleaded for his mercy as she comforted a weeping Lana. “Please don’t hurt him.”
Teller’s shoulders sank. He loved Lily more than vengeance. For her, only for her, would he bend.
My eyes turned to Luther. For him, I would bend, too—but unlike Lily, he would speak no word to hold me back. His hand curled like he itched to do the deed himself.
Finally, I looked to my mother. She looked so broken, and so, so small.
She’d brought Henri into our lives after his mother’s death, urging me to befriend the angry, grieving little boy.
When his father refused to remarry, she became the mother figure Henri never got to have.
She’d brought him into the Guardians, too. To Vance.
She didn’t look angry . . . only sad. Deeply, heartrendingly sad.
“Let him go,” Brecke said. “Honor our deal, Diem. Show your people that you keep your word.”
My jaw clenched.
I pulled Henri’s face closer to mine. “If I ever lay eyes on you again, I will kill you. Then you will see how I keep my word.”
I shoved him to the ground, then I turned, and I walked into the flames.