Page 123 of Treasured

I stared at her. Was this a joke? Could she honestly not remember what just happened?

Luna and I exchanged a glance. I kept hold of my shadows, but I didn’t pull us into the Void yet.

“Y-y-es. They did,” was Luna’s response.

Jehanne rubbed her temples and nodded. “Good. You have what you came for?”

“We do,” I said. And honestly, even if we didn’t, I wouldn’t stick around after that performance. I’d seen many things during my life, but few caused my blood to chill like ice. “We don’t have any coin on us, but we will return with payment.”

“Just kill her,” Jehanne said. “That royal bitch murdered my mate and half our pack decades ago. Having the queen’s blood spilled will be payment enough.”

“It shall be done.” Or we would die trying. “Thank you, Jehanne.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said in clear dismissal. “Go. Rest. You’ll need all your strength for the days ahead.”

* * *

Neither Luna nor I spoke during our journey back to the abbey. We fell into bed fully clothed, the exhaustion of the trip wearing us both down.

Between visiting my childhood home and the werewolf, I would be happy if we never saw anyone else ever again. I hadn’t always been this anti-social, but having one’s life threatened numerous times in the span of a few months would do that to anyone.

Drawing Luna toward me, I buried my face in her hair. She was already asleep, her body even less used to the strenuous exercise than mine was.

“I’ll keep you safe, darling. I promise.” My heart was beating far faster than normal as I held her close. Once again, I made a promise I had no business making. But I would do it a hundred times over for her. I kissed her forehead. “I won’t fail you.”

* * *

Crimson blood dripped from the walls, adding new, macabre tones to the throne room. There was so much of it. It was a painting gone wrong, a nightmare brought to life, a silver-tipped blade straight to my heart.

Blood was on the queen. Her hands. The floor. The walls. It was everywhere except the one place it needed to be—inside Athena.

I fell to my knees, my heart breaking as I stared at the ground in front of me. Athena’s body was in pieces, torn apart in a manic frenzy. I wanted to hold her, gather her, turn back time, and never bring her here. But I couldn’t.

In the end, I lifted my gaze to the bloody queen. “What did you do?” I cried out.

Mother looked at me, her fangs dripping with Athena’s blood, and she tilted her head. “It was an accident.”

Her words made no sense to my grief-addled brain. How could this be an accident? How could she do this? Athena was mine. Or she had been.

Words, thoughts, and movements escaped me. How could I do anything at all? How could I keep going after this? A pool of grief was at my feet, and I was ready to jump in and drown.

Athena was dead.

“I’m… sorry,” the queen said.

Sorry? What good was an apology? What would it do for me? Athena would still be in pieces, her blood still coating everything in sight.

A guttural groan escaped me. “How could you?”

Queen Marguerite blinked. “I received bad news.”

“Bad news?” I echoed. “You received… bad news.”

And then she killed the only thing that mattered to me.

“Yes.” She stroked her glowing ruby. “It might have been a slight overreaction.”

“Slight?” There were hundreds of words to describe what she’d done, but that was not one of them. My fists clenched, and my nails cut into my palms.