The room was swallowed in silence.
I blinked twice or more, trying to make sense of the words that had just left his mouth. "What the hell are you saying?" The question came out louder than I intended, edged with disbelief.
Lucian's gaze didn't waver. "I didn't lie," he said quietly. "I really wanted to try using your flame to save my moth—"
"Your mother is dead!" I snapped, my voice echoing off the cold walls. "Dead, Lucian! My flame is not a God!"
My hands were shaking, fists clenched at my sides. "It's not some miracle tool you can use to cheat death! You think I can just burn away death because you want it badly enough?"
He looked at me then, and what I saw in his eyes wasn't coldness. It was grief. The kind that had been there long before me.
"She's not gone," he said softly. "Not yet."
I froze. "What? Do you even hear yourself?"
Lucian's expression didn't change. His tone stayed maddeningly calm. "You wouldn't understand."
