Chapter 83
LUTHER
“You did it.”
The words came out like a breath, like months of tension and fear and anger and the weight of the war and all its consequences leaving my body in a great exhale. I fought the smile spreading over my face, and the smile won.
“Diem, you did it.”
I grabbed her off her knees and wrapped her in my arms. “You saved Emarion. Thank the Blessed Kindred. No—” Relief bubbled out of me as laughter as I clutched her against me. “—thank the Old Gods. That Fire . . . it’s incredible. You are incredible.”
Diem didn’t speak, or nod, or even drop her sword. I felt no emotion from her over our bond. Shock, perhaps.
“I knew you were meant to save our people,” I said.
“From the moment I saw you, I knew. And you have become everything I believed you would be.” I drew her into a kiss, though my grin was so wide and so relentless, I could barely keep my mouth against hers.
“You’re a force,” I whispered. “A goddess. A Queen. You’re—”
The taste of salt hit my lips, and I leaned back, surprised to find her face streaked with tears.
You heartless idiot, I scolded myself. Her brother had just died, and I knew how badly she’d wanted to avoid taking Ophiucae’s life. How callous could I be, celebrating while she mourned?
I quickly tucked my joy away, schooling my expression to a stoic slate. “He gave you no choice. Even if you’d let him live, he would always be a risk to this world. This was the only way.”
Diem winced.
I cupped her face and stroked a thumb across her cheek, trying to goad something out of her that didn’t look so much like despair.
“You made your people proud. You gave them a chance to start a new era. One of peace. And you and I get the future we’ve earned.
” I flashed a tentative, teasing smile. “We’ll finally get our goats. ”
A sob tore out of her, her shoulders hunching forward. I folded her into my arms and held her close.
“You can rest now, my heart,” I murmured into her hair. “It’s over.”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
I sighed. “I know. Bringing the survivors together won’t be easy. It will be a long journey, but we’ll walk it together.”
She slid one hand to my chest. “No, Luther.” She gently pushed me back. “We won’t.”
I frowned. She took my hand, turning it over, and set the handle of her sword in my palm.
“You promised to obey me,” she said, curling my fingers around it. She could barely get the words out, her voice weak and breaking. “You have to keep your word.”
She reached for the fastenings of her armor, loosening them until her pauldrons and breastplate fell away.
She tugged at the collar of her leathers and pulled it down to expose the mating mark over her heart.
With trembling fingers, she took my hand again and slowly guided the sword up, placing its tip on her mark.
I jerked back, throwing the sword to the ground. “What the fuck are you doing?”
She reached down and picked it up, holding the handle out to me. “You have to do it fast, before Ophiucae heals.”
“He’s dead, Diem. It’s over.”
“Not yet,” she murmured.
I staggered back, physically repulsed by what she seemed to be suggesting.
“‘Life for life,’” she said, echoing the words I knew the Umbros Queen had once told her. “I can’t kill him without the heartstone’s magic . . . and the heartstone always requires a cost.”
“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.”
“Luther, no.” She yanked back. “You have to stay. The Descended listen to you. The mortals respect you. The council elected you to be their leader. Our people need their King.”
“Without you, that title means nothing. There are others who can lead.”
“What happens if that person is Marthe Hanoverre? Or Garath? What if the old Crowns force things back to the way they were before?”
“The Guardians won’t let that happen—”
“Exactly. They’ll declare war. Again. More people will die, Emarion will never be united, and all of this will have been for nothing. Teller’s death, my death, yours—it would all be for nothing.”
Arguments swirled in my head, but by the time any of them made it to my mouth, my traitorous mind had already shredded through them. I’d seen what happened to power when it was open to be seized. It always ended up in the hands of those who needed it least—and those who would use it for its worst.
But the alternative was a life without her.
“The spell requires something from all three of us,” she said, sympathy pinching her features. “Yours is the hardest. You bear the burden.” She looked down at Ophiucae, then back at me. “We just have to die.”
I watched, unable to speak, unwilling to move, as she picked up Sorrow’s Edge and again tucked the handle in my palm. She held up the sword until its blade formed a straight line into her heart.
“Take this dream we share and make it real,” she whispered fiercely. “I have faith in you, my love. More than I ever had in any god.”
“Don’t make me do this,” I begged.
“Take care of my mother. She will need you, and you’ll need her. And finish our home.” She gave a soft, sweet smile. “It will be so beautiful when it’s done.”
“I can’t,” I choked, eyes burning. “Diem, no—I can’t do this . . .”
“You have served me so well, my brave King. No matter how hard I pushed you away, you never let me fight alone.” She reached across the length of the sword and laid her palm against my heart. “I wish, more than anything, that I could do the same for you.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, refusing to believe this was happening, screaming in my head that loving her meant never causing her pain and never, ever letting go—even as my own heart had already begun grieving what I couldn’t deny.
“I love you, Luther Bellator,” she murmured. “I have loved you in life, and I will love you in death. I will love you for as long as love exists.”
I don’t know which one of us moved.
Maybe I was the villain who slayed her.
Maybe she did what I was not strong enough to do.
A quiet whimper of pain broke the silence, and the soft, warm weight of her body sank against me.
“No!” I shouted.
My hands shook as I drew the sword out of her and laid her on the ground. Blood rose in dark red torrents, and I ripped my armor off, pulling my tunic over my head and pressing it to her chest. It was soaked within seconds, crimson rivers spilling through my fingers and flooding her arms and neck.
I looked up at the sky, screaming. “Heal her—fucking heal her!”
Neither the stars nor their murderous moon gave an answer.
A rattling sound rose from Diem’s lips. I threw all my weight against her wound, willing it to somehow close. “Keep fighting, my heart. Don’t give in.”
Her eyelids sank.
“No, Diem, don’t—don’t leave me. Please . . . keep fighting. I need you . . . I—”
Her head rolled to the side.
In my chest, the heartbeat that had drummed beside mine since the day I claimed her as my mate was replaced by a deafening silence. The two glittering silhouettes beside me gave a final, mournful cry before fading away.
A curse fulfilled.
The scream that erupted from my lungs felt as if it was physically cleaved from my flesh—like claws sinking into my soul and shredding half of me away, leaving a gaping, endless hole where everything good in me had been.
I roared with fury, vowing vengeance on the gods, swearing to take on fate itself and make all of existence pay the price for her loss.
I held Diem’s body against me and pressed my face against her neck. The coppery tang of her blood hit my lips, and madness took over.
Fuck the promise I’d made. I wanted no part of life if living meant going on without her. Emarion could find its way without us both.
I reached for Sorrow’s Edge. The ground shifted beneath me, and the sword tumbled away. I reached for it again, and another quake rumbled under my knees.
The sound grew louder as the godstone ruins rattled and danced. At the center of what had once been the Kindred’s Temple, ropelike tendrils broke through the soil and slithered over the ground, stretching out toward the island’s shores.
One of them twisted around Diem’s wrist, and though I tried to yank her away, it held firm, spiraling further up her arm. I drew the Sword of Corbois and swung it at the thick cord to free her, but the blade bounced away without leaving a scratch.
Another wrapped around her leg, while another looped across her chest. The tendrils pulled taut, luring Diem’s body from my arms. I dug my heels in and tightened my grip, but the force of the strange vines was unbelievably strong.
It was all I could do to hold on as they drew us both toward the island’s center.
I looked around for Sorrow’s Edge, praying its blade might be enough to cut her free.
I watched in horror as a nest of tendrils coiled tightly around it, and the sword broke into pieces as easily as glass.
The heartstone remnant flew into the air, and when it landed, another vine drew it down into the earth.
The cords around Diem thickened between us, pushing me away. One hand lost its grip, and I roared as I strained to keep hold of her with the other.
“You can’t have her,” I shouted.
One finger slipped.
Then another.
Then another.
“She’s mine!”
The last finger gave out, hooking onto something before it snapped away. I watched in helpless anguish as the tendrils enveloped Diem completely and dragged her beneath the soil.
The ground began to heat. The rocks under my hands grew hot enough to scald my skin, the air becoming hard to breathe.
I collapsed, my will to fight gone.
Because she was gone.
I couldn’t bring myself to care about the mounting heat, nor the cords that continued to thicken and spread. Ophiucae’s corpse vanished beneath them, as did the Temple ruins. I stared up at the sky, waiting for my turn to disappear.
Something glimmered in my hand. I turned it over to see a delicate chain dangling with a small gold pendant—the necklace I’d given Diem at the Challenging.
I held it to my heart, and I wept.
The strange tendrils continued their sprawl, consuming everything on the island but me. At their center, they grew into a hill, stretching higher and higher until it soared above me in a wide, massive pillar. The air grew hotter, and I wept.
The ground around me finally stilled into a field of knotty, tangled roots, while the towering column hardened over with a skin of rough, golden-brown bark.
High above my head, so tall they scraped the clouds, spindly arms stretched into a giant canopy that ignited with a furious, crackling blaze.
Embers fluttered down from its branches, raining over me in a glowing storm.
Though they did not burn my skin, the pain of their touch destroyed me—body, heart, and soul.
I begged for them to take me.
And I wept.