Page 152 of Thorns and Echoes

“As do I, my lady. As do I.”

She sheathed her dagger. Satryani exhaled, her lips curving in the beginnings of a relieved smile.

“Then you understand–”

Satryani's words caught in her throat – or perhaps caught on the Queen's claws piercing her neck.

Blood flowed over Anais’ fingertips like the rage roaring in her veins. All encompassing. Searing hot. Soothing, in a way.

Vengeance, mother. Perhaps not the way you would have wanted, but the way I needed.

The dying woman's weak claws scratched at Anais' arm. Anais kneeled and threaded her fingers with the woman's hand.

“Shh, shh. I must apologize for lying, Auntie. Apparently, I do kill my family.”

Her claws slid out. Red flooded down the lady's neck, soaked her dress, and spilled onto the floor.

The Queen let go. The duchess' body tumbled.

Chapter 46

Anais

Death had ceased to have meaning too long ago. Staring at the corpse of the woman who had orchestrated her mother's death, Anais only felt hollow.

A shadow fell over the red streams. Castien knelt beside her. Blood dripped from the hand that she would have hugged him with.

Blood glistened as it ran over the Consort’s ring. She hooked a claw through the small circle of metal. Red droplets splashed to the ground.

Blood and death were her companions. It was time to accept that reality.

She turned to face him.

His cheeks were pale. Angry red lines marked his neck. The spreading pool of endless red reached his knees.

She wished she could shield him from it. All of it. Violence. Pain. Death, most of all.

Anais said softly, “I want to let you go. I do.”

His gaze darkened as it shifted to her.

She wanted to hold him. Feel his arms around her, listen to his steady heartbeat just one last time.

Though her eyes remained steady on his face, she was all too conscious of the mark on his chest.

It’s just one more thing I can’t forget.

One more way she had failed him.

A layer of her mask slid into place. Another. The last time she had struggled so hard to settle into the cold was six years ago. The blood on her hands had been her own, then.

The Queen spoke calmly, “You are right – so long as you are with me, you are in danger. I apologize for forcing you into the palace. I made myself a monster out of necessity, but I will not force you to walk the same path.”

Her breaths came harsh, shallow, and too quick. Her eyes burned. In a small corner of her mind, she heard,He makes you weak, and she didn’t care.

Love isn’t weakness, Mother. You knew that.

Jana had built a castle in a wasteland, fortifying it with her love and strength. The Escorts, the Queen's Wing, Vern… her daughter.