Page 148 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“You said.” I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “They all said.”

It explained why my hunger was never satisfied, why nothing eased the gaping hole in my chest, why I struggled to feel for anyone except him.

“Dianna, what are you talking about?”

“You died,” I blurted out.

He looked at me like I had slapped him, but I continued.

“In that tunnel, you died.” My heart hammered, and my breathing turned ragged. “You don’t remember it. I think because it happened so fast, but you died, and I held you, and I hated everything. So I begged and pleaded for a way, and Reggie gave me one. I made a promise in that tunnel, in that damn cold tunnel, that if they didn’t return you to me, I’d rip the universe to atoms. I meant it. Our mark formed, burned on my finger, and then disappeared. You breathed and—and—and . . .”

I was shaking. Everything that had happened over the last few months came tumbling out. I had been so fucking stupid never to question it, to think I got out free with no consequences. The words just kept coming, spilling out of me, and I could not stop them.

“Resurrection has a cost, and this is mine. Every single Otherworld creature has said it to me, but I didn’t get it, didn’t understand. It,” I pointed to the corpse of the murrak, “said it too. Void.”

“Your soul. The cost of saving me was your soul,” Samkiel said, and I flinched. His jaw clenched, and his hands fisted. The pure, blistering anger in his eyes nearly obscured the soul-deep sorrow.

FIFTY-NINE

DIANNA

Samkiel turned on me the moment we stepped into the makeshift study, and the door slammed shut behind us.

“You’ve been lying to me. For months.”

“Yes.”

“Months, Dianna.”

“I know.” My voice cracked, the lie finally out.

He turned away from me, pacing feverishly, his boots thumping heavily against the carpet. His armor still hugged his form, gray ash dulling the brilliant shine. He’d discarded his helmet to rake his fingers through his hair, toweling the sweat-damp strands.

“Did you know? In the tunnels, when you asked? Did you know the cost then?” His gaze flicked to mine.

I lifted one shoulder, unable to bear his stare for too long. I twisted my fingers in front of me. “I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t ask?” he damn near yelled. “Dianna, do you have any idea what you could have done? To yourself and the realms? There is a reason resurrection is forbidden, a reason it has not been done or attempted. You put yourself at enormous risk! You—”

“I don’t care,” I cut him off this time, meeting his gaze.

He stopped and raised a single brow before scoffing at me. “You don’t care? You lied to me, have been lying to me for months, and you don’t care?”

“No,” I stumbled. “Well, yes, I care about that, just not the other part. The cost part.”

“Dianna.” His face held nothing but pain and anger. “Your soul, Dianna. You gave up your soul for me. I would never ask such a thing. You have given up so much for others. I would never ask you to shred yet another part of yourself. Never. I want you alive and well and happy, even if I am not.”

“I am,” I said. “I am all of those as long as you are with me.”

No matter how true they were, my words did not quell his rage. They only seemed to twist the dagger I had placed in his heart further.

“You gave up your soul, Dianna. We have no idea what that even means. Logically. You don’t think! You just act and damn the consequences when it comes to your own safety.”

“So I did something irrational.” I tossed my hands in the air. “When have I not?”

“This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “You cannot make a cute joke or quip to get out of this.”

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