Page 269 of Heat of the Everflame

Chapter

Fifty-Two

“Mother?”

It was a whisper. A prayer. A plea.

“Diem? Is that you?”

I lurched forward a few steps, then froze. It seemed too much to hope that this was real.

For months, I’d lived in the limbo of her absence. If she was dead, I’d have to mourn her. If she was alive, I’d have to confront her. I feared both with equal dread, so I’d never allowed myself to plant my feet in either camp.

Even after learning she was alive—even after seeing it with my own eyes on Coeurîle—I’d barricaded myself in the ‘we can’t be sure’of it all. With no guarantee I’d ever see her again, I’d pushed away the hope just as fiercely as the grief.

And now my purgatory was over.

“Diem!”

My mother’s voice shattered as she hoarsely called my name. Her copper-red hair was dark with filth, but even in the shadows, it shone like a ruby in the moonlight.

I threw myself against the bars and reached an arm through, desperate for the feel of her beneath my palm. Her hand stretched shakily toward me.

“Mother,” I gasped. “Come here—let me see you.”

Her hand trembled, then fell limply to the floor. She struggled to get up amid stifled whimpers.

I stilled. “Mother? Are you alright?”

Two mortals rushed to her side. Gingerly, they hooked her arms around their necks. A soft cry of pain escaped her at the sudden movement.

“What’s wrong with her?” I hissed at the King.

His mouth set in a firm line. “She was given a chance to cooperate with our interrogations. She chose not to do so.”

“Diem,” she croaked.

I strained toward her again and let out a sob as my fingertips grazed her shoulders. “Mother, please, look at me.”

The mortals carried her closer. Her drooping head lolled to the side, then tilted up to the light.

Red clouded my vision.

The red of her vibrant hair, hacked in choppy pieces above her too-thin shoulders.

The red of the blood on her hollowed face, coating her swollen-shut eye and half-bent nose.

The red of my rage, reawakened and screaming for retribution.

“Youtorturedher,” I shouted.

“What do you expect?” the King said testily. “She has information that could stop the war and save thousands of lives. We have a moral obligation to get it by any means necessary.”

I might have murdered him right then and there had Luther not intervened in my place.

“There’s nothing moral about beating a defenseless person,” he thundered. He flew into the King’s face, sending him staggering until his back collided with a wall. “These people are in your care. It’s your duty to keep themsafe.”

The King flicked up his shield and sneered. “I’m keeping the people who matter safe.”

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