Page 13 of Gua rdian of Blood and Shadow

“I believe Micah is sufficiently healed and can be moved into his own space,” Javier said, drawing my attention back to him. “We can settle him in one of the other suites in the east wing with you, Luna. Or if you prefer, we can place him in the consort’s quarters attached to your suite. His room wouldn’t be as spacious there, but he would be closer to you.”

I shook my head vehemently, thinking of all thecommunionsbound to happen in every corner of the High Queen’s—my—suite. I absolutely did not want there to be any chance that Micah might walk in on that. “He can have his own suite,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the extra space.”

Javier dipped his chin in a single nod and pulled me to my feet, Bastian’s heat falling away. My knees felt weak, the vision and lingering chill having sapped my strength. How much power had the vision consumed? Javier’s crescent sigil still shone brightly, so I didn’t think I was in dire need of acommunion. Fun as they were, it would be nice to get a bit of a break between romps.

Javier’s stare shifted past me, sending the other three immortals on their way, and he curved a sheltering arm around my shoulders. His body was wire tight, his tension thrumming into me.

I studied the side of his face. “How bad is this whole Shadow King situation?” I asked, dread settling in my gut.

He guided me toward the bathroom door. “I’ll let you form your own opinion about that.”

8

Javierpushedopenthedoor to the bathroom, and humid steam billowed out into the bedroom. They must have been filling and refilling the bath with hot water for quite some time to turn the bathroom into a sauna like this. How long had the vision held me captive? I recalled my consorts’ voices whispering through the nightmarish scenes. How long had they been trying to wake me?

Javier helped me ease down into the soaking tub tucked along one wall of the bathroom, and I hissed in discomfort as I sat, the hot water feeling scalding to my icy skin.

“Why am I so cold?” I asked through chattering teeth. I forced myself to lean back against the edge of the tub, submerging myself up to my armpits.

Javier sat on the floor beside the tub, leaning against the tiled wall and drawing up his legs. He rested his forearms on his upturned knees and threaded his fingers together. “Your mother told me once that she believed it was Selene’s touch that chilled her.” He rested his head back against the wall. “When her connection to the goddess was at its strongest, her body temperature would drop. She would monitor her temperature throughout the day to predict when a particularly intense or significant vision might strike. It became something of an obsession for her, but I suppose it was a way for her to feel like she had some control over the powers granted to her by the goddess.”

His stare grew distant, like he was no longer seeing this bathroom but another time and place entirely. “A few days before the attack, she stopped. I remember teasing her about it—asking her where her thermometer was—and she just laughed and made some quip. But she looked so sad.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve often wondered if she had a vision about that day. If she knew what would happen.”

“But wouldn’t she have said something?” I asked. So many of our people had died that day. All her consorts and so many others. Amaya, her own daughter and heiress. Not to mention all the vampire queens captured and imprisoned. “Wouldn’t she have warned everyone and tried to stop it from happening?” Wouldn’t she have tried to save Amaya?

Javier blew out a breath. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve often wondered if the vision convinced her there was some reason to remain silent. To let it happen.”

“But why?” I scoffed. “What possible reason—”

Javier’s attention cut to me, his stare sharp, his focus no longer on the past, but very much on the present. On me. “This,” he said quietly, his stare boring into me. “You.”

You will save us, my shining girl. You will save us all. It is your destiny.

My mother’s last words to me whispered through my mind. I remembered little from before the attack, but that night, those terrifying moments were crystalized in my mind. Did my mom die so I could, what, flee and live in hiding, never really understanding who or what I was? So I could lose everything a second time when Javier was captured? A third time when Wes died, and I made the heartbreaking choice to give up Micah?

Did she die so I could live the shittiest life possible?

I turned my face away from Javier so he couldn’t see my trembling chin or the tears escaping over the brims of my eyelids. The weight of this suspicion threatened to suffocate me. The prospect that I was responsible for the attack on my people—my family—however passively, was crushing. I curled my hands into fists under the water, resentment toward my mom turning my few memories of her into fragile, fractured scenes.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Javier said, leaning forward to grip the edge of the tub. “And it wasn’t Diana’s.”

I gritted my teeth together, his statement drawing my ire if not my gaze.

Javier reached across the water and gripped my chin, turning my face back toward him. “If you wish to blame someone, blame the goddess. Blame Selene,” he said, a feral light shining in his eyes. “Your mother loved you and Amaya dearly. Nothing short of a command from the goddess herself could have convinced her to sacrifice her own daughters like that.”

“Daughter,” I corrected him. “Isurvived.”

A bitter chuckle rumbled in Javier’s chest. “I didn’t realize death was the only sacrifice one could make.” His eyes narrowed and his grip on my jaw tightened before he jerked his hand away and stretched out his fingers, like he was willing his hand to behave. As much as I wanted to escape his heated stare, I couldn’t look away. “Was Amaya’s fate not merciful compared to yours? Her suffering was intense but over in an instant. Yours stretched on for decades.”

I felt mortified that he was so easily able to voice some of my most shameful thoughts. How many times had I envied Amaya for her easy escape? How often had I wished for a swift end to my misery, even as I slowly faded away, clinging to what remained of my life?

“How much did Bas tell you?” I asked, feeling betrayed. I had shared my troubled past with him in confidence, not so he could spread it around like Mardi Gras beads to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who flashed me the goods.

“I believe he told us all of it,” Javier admitted. “Or, at least, all that he knew.”

“Us?” I squawked.

Something that looked an awful lot like sympathy softened Javier’s gaze. “Isador sent us out of the room for a time while you were locked in the vision. He filled us in then. He felt we all deserved to know what you had gone through in the past, so we could better understand and serve you in the future.”

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