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“That's not what I—”

“I held Fabian while his blood soaked into my clothes. I felt Heartbreak raging inside me, wanting to tear him apart even as he was dying. And all I could think was that Fabian was right and every word he said was true. That I am the monster who destroyed his family, who's destroyed thousands of families, and you—” His voice cracked. “You sit there with your empathy and your logic and tell me I'm being ridiculous?”

Anger flared hot in my chest. “I'm trying to help you!”

“I don't want your help!” The words came out like a whip crack. “I don't want you to fix me or absolve me or make me feel better about what I am. I want—” He stopped, his hands clenching into fists. “I don't know what I want.”

The silence that followed felt like a mile of broken glass between us.

Hands shaking, I stood. “Fine. You want to wallow in your guilt? Go ahead. But don't you dare take it out on me because I'm the only who's ever been brave enough to tell you the truth. Fuck, even Bart didn't whine as much as you do, and he wasn't just suffering, he was ridiculed by his peers for his suffering. I don't even blame him for what he did. But you? You are the noblest, kindest, bravest man I know and yet you can't get out from under the boulder of you martyr complex! You think you're honoring all those people with those stupid mementos? You're not. You're torturing yourself. That room is your hair shirt. It's your flail, your fucking altar. You go into it and whip yourself as you cry out, 'I'm sorry!' for things you have no control over. It's disgusting!”

When I stopped, I was panting and shaking more than when I'd started. But the purge felt good. And a little cruel. I was going to tell him how I felt, how I'd been impressed by his endurance and then saddened by his guilt. I was going to do it gently, with love. But gentle had left the building.

“That's not—” He stopped himself, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, some of the fury had drained away, replaced by something worse: shame. “You're right. That's exactly what I'm doing. I punish myself with those stupid things.”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that. And not everything in your collection is about pain. Many of them represent triumphs. But you're too human to see them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Humans focus on the pain. The failures. We evolved that way to survive. You remember what hurts you so you don't do it again. It's hard to focus on the good instead. And you've clung to your humanity. Which is wonderful, but it also makes it harder to see things with the proper perspective.”

I wanted to go to him. Every instinct I had screamed at me to reach out, to touch him, to use my ability to drain away some of his anguish. My fingers actually tingled with the need to absorb his pain, to make it mine so he could breathe again.

But I forced myself to stay where I was. Because that's what I always did, wasn't it? Someone hurt, and I fixed it. Someone suffered, and I took it away. But Tristan needed to work through this himself. I could guide him, but he had to let go.

“I'm too human?” he whispered, his expression shivering through shock to understanding.

“No, you're too human in your pain,” I said. “You suffer enough without the guilt. Let it go.”

He took a step toward me, then stopped. “How?”

“By focusing on the good. Not just in what Heartbreak does, but in Heartbreak itself.”

Tristan's expression went blank. “In Heartbreak?”

“When it was free of you, I felt it. All of it. Underneath the pain is love. I don't know if it was always there or if you taught it to love, but I felt it.”

“No, not me,” he whispered. “It was you who taught it to love. Everyone I've loved, I associate with pain. But you taught us both it doesn't have to be that way, even when we are pain.”

Warmth rushed through me, and I lurched across the space between us. Tristan met me halfway and pulled me against his chest. After a tight hug, we eased apart.

“I heard you tell it you accepted it, you loved it. Thank you, Destiny.” He stroked my hair back from my face. “Thank you for loving me and my Curse. I feel it now, it rose when you said it could love. It's . . . hopeful.”

“I am too.”

“But it wants more.” He frowned and stepped back.

“It wants the Severing.”

“But I don't.

“I heard what Fabian said.”

“And you agree.” He sounded weary again, but not angry.

“No, I'm bringing it up because I want to talk about the Severing, but I don't want him to be a part of it.” I lifted my head and met his gaze. “This needs to be our decision, no outside influences. Not even Heartbreak.”

Sucking in a breath, Tristan jerked forward.