Burning Bright by Megan Derr

there was a good chance that the very last Vessel would bear the strongest resemblance. Over and over again, he had told himself, convinced himself, he was ready to face it.
    Clearly he had been wrong.
    Why does looking at you hurt?
    Dym had always believed the sacrifices were the right thing. They were the right thing. It had to be done. Doubt was his greatest enemy, but he had slain that enemy at the very beginning. Pozhar could not be saved without sacrificing all one thousand Vessels. Whatever the personal cost, he would see it through.
    But apparently his doubt was not as vanquished as he had thought. The doubts clawed at him, whispered to him. That he had made a mistake all these years. That the Vessels should have been left alone. Did looking at him, seeing him, really cause so much pain?
    Had he made a mistake all these years?
    Dym had not cried since the day he had lost everything that mattered to him, all because he'd lost his temper. But he cried then because he could not bear to think that everything he had done had been in vain. That he should have left well enough alone.
    What was he supposed to do? Those awful words would not stop rattling around in his head. That look on his face. Had he really thought, after their last words, that Eminence would be happy to see him?
    Yes, he thought miserably. That was what kept him going when he thought he could not endure one more day. That when he had done what he must, he would be forgiven for his mistake. Finally be able to rest. But it would seem the forgiveness he sought was never to come. When at last all the Vessels were cast into the Fires ... there would be nothing left for him. No forgiveness, no peace, nothing but the same misery he had lived with for so long.
    The realization was crippling.
    Dym shoved the pain away, all the way to the back of his mind with all the other things he could not bear to think upon, forced it back until it became a dull ache he could mostly ignore. He forced himself to sit up and shoved his blanket aside, wiping the drying tears from his cheeks. Whatever his personal agony, the children of Pozhar came first. They always came first, no matter what. He would not let Pozhar suffer to make himself feel better.
    Whatever his flaws, whatever his mistakes, he had not forgotten his most sacred duty. Only, he thought bitterly, the duty that had mattered most to him. Standing up, Dym left his study and walked to his bedroom. There, he went into the changing room, discarded his dressing robe, and continued on into the bathing chamber.
    His head throbbed so badly his stomach churned, threatening to force up the tea he had cautiously drunk a short time ago. Dym walked around to the far side of the bath and sat down on the edge to slide slowly into the water. He settled on a bench, adjusting to the heat, waiting for his stomach to settle. When his stomach finally behaved, he was finally able to relax slightly.
    At least the damage to his magic did not seem permanent. He had not been able to use it since their failed attempt to capture the Vessel and had feared it had actually been taken from him. He was grateful it seemed to have only been heavily dampened for a few days. A couple more days, and he would be back to full strength—hopefully, anyway.
    It would all be much more bearable if his head would stop hurting. The sound of shoes scuffing the floor drew his attention, and Dym reluctantly opened his eyes, not surprised to see Krasny standing at the edge of the pool.
    He looked exactly as miserable as Dym felt. "Good morning, your grace. Would you care to relax with me for a time? The hot water does seem to be helping my head."
    Krasny seemed surprised by the offer, but after a moment simply nodded and turned around to go back into the dressing chamber. A few minutes later, he returned naked and slid into the pool beside Dym. "I still can make no real sense of whatever happened. I can only assume that second street rat was the last Vessel? I