Page 192 of Heat of the Everflame

“There’s so much I need to tell you,” he whispered against my lips. “I thought we’d have more time.”

“Wewillhave more time. You remember that vision of us on the battlefield? That’s our destiny.” I forced a smile. “Fate cannot be changed. That’s why it’s called fate.”

His thumb swept along my cheekbones to brush away my tears. “That doesn’t sound like my Diem. She doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I will. For you, I will.”

He returned my grim smile. “Then I’m afraid we’ve each convinced the other. I see now that even the most certain of fates can be changed. The Kindred’s promises are too easily broken.”

I might have laughed, had any spark of light been left inside me. “That’s blasphemy. My Luther would never say such a thing.”

“‘Your Luther’ is exactly what I am. Now and always.”

My heart collapsed, my voice disappearing beneath an aria of hopeless cries. I curled into his side with my head on his shoulder and wept, each of us holding the other, no more words left to say.

After a few minutes, footsteps came down the hall, and the door swung open.

Taran’s bag slid off his shoulder and crashed to the ground. His face went slack, his wide blue eyes filling with shadows. “Cousin,” he whispered. “No.”

He looked at me, his heartbroken gaze pleading for some happier explanation, but I had none to give. It was as bad as it looked. Worse.

He took a stiff, lumbering step toward Luther, then another, then skidded to his knees at his side. “Cousin.”

Luther said nothing, though I could tell he was fighting his own emotion by the feathering of the muscles along his jaw. He gripped Taran by the arm, his knuckles blanching as he squeezed him tight.

“It was Arboros, wasn’t it? You justhadto rescue me.” Taran swung his fist into a nearby chair, sending it shattering into splinters against the wall. “You asshole. You should have left me behind.I told youto leave me behind.”

“I would never,” Luther gritted out. “And neither would you. That’s what we do for each other. And now it’s what you have to do for her.”

I shook my head, but Taran and Luther were lost in the ferocity of their shared glare.

“Swear it, cousin,” Luther demanded. “You’ll take care of her for me. Keep her safe. Whatever it takes.”

“Stop,” I begged.

“I will,” Taran vowed. “Always.”

“Stop it.” I shoved Taran’s shoulder, his watery eyes snapping to mine. “Take it back. If he wants me protected so badly, he can live and do it himself.”

Taran glanced between us, looking torn.

“He’s not going to die,” I hissed.

“You’re going to heal him?” Taran asked slowly. “Like you healed me?”

I nodded feverishly.

“Taran,” Luther warned. “I’ve already tried the poultice. It didn’t work.”

Emotions cycled across Taran’s face—grief, fear, uncertainty, hope—before landing solidly on rage. He turned his glare on Luther. “I do take it back. Fuck my oath. My loyalty to her dies with you. You want her safe? Thenlive.”

I nodded once in firm approval.

Luther’s eyes narrowed at him. “Liar.”

“You know I’ve always hated Lumnos. I only stayed for you. If you die, why shouldn’t I leave? There’s no one left for me there. There or anywhere.”

I didn’t think my heart could shatter any further, but the raw bitterness in Taran’s voice cut deep. This was no longer about goading Luther into living. There was a festering pain hidden in those words, and it devastated me to know that some part of Taran believed them to be true.

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