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Hatred, filling her every thought, her every breath. That’s all she could feel before that moment. It made her fight him with all the bitterness of her soul, made her plunge that sword right through his heart without even skipping a beat. Even as he uttered his last words, lying down the sand at her feet, his face full of devotion for her, she could only feel poison and hostility for him.
And then, all of a sudden, it vanished.
It was as if she was awakened from a long and painful nightmare. Slowly the realization of everything that had happened these last few months came to her. The running, fighting, faking. Allying herself with a lying ambitious prince and his corrupted family? Following the treacherous words of Baghra, who’d manipulated her before? Sacrificing her best friend, when she could’ve done the same with Aleksander’s help, had she managed to convince him (she knew she could’ve)? Sleeping with him too… How did all that even happen?
She felt lost. She could hear Nina, Inej and Zoya talk around her, praising the outcome of their confrontation, yet her only reaction was being suddenly overwhelmed by sadness and confusion. She fell to her knees, body shaking, vision blurry, not daring to touch his lifeless body.
But life, for her, carried on. She was whisked away in a whirlwind of events. Could barely remember the body of Mal also lying on the ground, the speech of Nikolai before the burning corpse, the return to Os Alta, the coronation…
When she was finally left alone, sitting in the dark war room that used to be part of his quarters, general of his army, queen of his country, wife of his enemy… She let the tears out.
Way back, she'd been angry at him of course. For the lies, the lack of communication, the manipulation. But that spat they had in the tent of Kribirsk… she didn't think it would be unrecoverable. Even the fighting on the skiff that day. She was scared and wanted to protect her friend, but she didn't want him to die . Things had gotten out of hand with the Crows, Zoya and Mal interruption. Her words had gone past what she really meant.
Later, learning he'd survived, she should've been elated. She wanted to fix them. She understood his point of view. After all, not even a week after the Novokribirsk retaliation, Grisha were being tortured and caged. Not to mention she'd learn about Marie since then. It was only a matter of using the right methods. They just needed to talk.
Instead she'd pushed him further and further into darkness and despair. Cruel and cold beyond measure. Why?
Zoya had brought back that metal hand of his. A trophy for her victory she’d said, but really it felt more like a slap to her face. It was there, throning on the shelf next to the desk, and seeing it her memory drifted to the hand that had been severed by Baghra. That hand that connected them before, from the moment she'd been collared.
Of course she’d felt betrayed when he took over her power. But also… understanding. No matter his feelings for her he had decided to put his peers first. He lived by his values no matter his pain. And, since that moment, they’d been linked, even though none of them truly understood it. Even after she'd removed the bone, physical manifestation of the link, even when he'd used merzost to survive the Fold, even…
Ah.
Merzost.
Once he'd drawn his last breath, all that foul corruption he'd summoned to protect himself, despite his best knowledge, had vanished from the world. The shadow monster attacking Nikolai was gone. And the veil of darkness wrapped around her heart too.
He’d never controlled it. And none of them realized it. How it had infected her just as it did him. Now he was dead and she was free of it. But the guilt and wasted love left behind haunted her.
She cried.
Would things have been different if she’d stopped him that day in the tent? If she’d never left? Whose fault was it all, if not hers.
In that room that still smelled like him, on that chair he used to sit on, where everything around her was but a reminder of his presence, of those all too few happy memories they’d shared, she could only weep and ask for forgiveness.
Maybe if his ghost still lingered around her, bitter and angry for the cruelty she’d offered him, or if his soul was left on this earth, trapped by the regret of never achieving his life’s purpose despite all the sacrifices, he could hear her.
She hoped he did not. Hoped he’d found peace at least, away from the trouble of this wretched world. Then she vowed to make his burden hers. Vowed to never rest until she’d make all Grisha safe. Vowed to remember and mourn him forevermore. Even when the world would recall him as the Black Heretic, he would always be her Starless Saint. Misunderstood by those for whom he had sacrificed his life, hated by those who had closed their eyes and ignored the persecution of his peers, vilified by his oppressors as victors always write history. The last martyr she’d ever allow… Her equal. Her balance. Her soulmate.
She cried more.
Picked up that stupid and cruel memento of him and fell to her knees holding it close to her chest. Wailed till even the rug started to dampen with the water falling from her eyes. Let the sharp broken pieces of her heart prick her everything till even her soul was but a piece of bleeding deformity.
It hurt so much.
But not even once she wished for the pain to end. It was nothing compared to what she’d done, barely a suitable punishment to make up for her sin. He was gone forever. Killed by her own hand. And she hadn’t even offered him a word of comfort, a hint of affection, on his deathbed. He’d died thinking she hated him.
She started mumbling all the words of love she wished she’d manage to utter earlier. Kissed the metal hand and put it against her cheek, hoping to feel even the phantom of his caress, and summoned her light to fake its warmth.
The icy touch of inanimate iron was the only thing she felt. No warmth, no brightness. When she opened her eyes, between her flooded vision, she saw… no light. But shadows, deep as the night, flowing from her fingers, wrapping around her.
Her heart stopped.
Her tears too.
The shadows dissipated.
She let the fake hand fall to the ground and tried invoking her light again. None came. Instead shadows rolled around her, cold but not freezing… comforting. Gentle and silent like feathers falling on fresh snow on a moonless winter night. They even smelled like him. Soon they had her cloaked in a soft cocoon of darkness. A place to hide, a place to rest. A peaceful place.
She understood. He was part of her now. He’d left his shadows to shield her from the world when it would become too hard. To blanket her when she would be too forlorn. He would live through her, till one day, maybe in eons, she’d join him. He’d lived his time, suffered from it being much too lonely. But she would never be alone, he would be there for her through it all, even if it was not in the flesh. All of a sudden she could feel his presence embracing her, wiping her tears, holding her hands. Maybe his ghost really was still lingering around her. But it was neither angry nor sour. It was full of affection.
A wisp of darkness susurated in her ears, or so she imagined it did. Nothing is eternal. Nothing is infinite. Except my love for you.