Reign of Blood

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Yes," Annaliese said, more so to herself than everyone else. "It was the year 227 and your werewolves were getting a taste for travel. I'm actually surprised you don't know this already, Lorcan. Don't you werewolves keep a track of these things? No records back at the Territories? Have you even read them? Hmm, well that doesn't surprise me. People around Veneficus still talk. History is passed down in household stories. I suppose the witches have always been more organised. As I was saying, the werewolves were travelling. Your climate in the Territories is quite different to ours, isn't it Lorcan?"

Through clenched teeth, he ground out a yes.

"It's colder there. It's bathed in snow for a good six months of the year, yes? Hmm. It's never snowed here in Veneficus. You werewolves had never experienced anything like our climate, so they came here. As ever, us witches were accommodating. We showed you our realm and welcomed your kind with open arms."

"I find that hard to believe."

Chronos shook his head. Damnit Lorcan—take the fucking hint!

He squeezed Annaliese's thigh, drawing little circles across her leg in the hopes of calming her down. It was Annaliese for heaven's sake. He knew it wasn't going to work, but he wanted her to know she had someone trying to stay on her side.

"I'm sure you do. But it happened, whether you find that hard to believe or not. Now, I'm sure you've come to realise already that us witches don't 'mate' like you dogs do. We choose our own partners and pave our own way through life."

"A mate is a blessing," Lorcan argued, unhappy with the distaste in her tone. Another head shake came from his brother. "Your kind have no reason to look down on it."

"Hmm."

Not the fucking hum.

"It was unfortunate, I suppose, that one of your werewolves staked his mate claim on one of my kind back then. Are you familiar with the story of Remus and Venetia?"

The brothers shared a look. Lorcan's confidence returned once more.

"Of course I am." Now it all made sense. "Ventia- one of your witches- started the war when she killed one of my kind. Sounds a little close to home, doesn't it your highness?"

"Wrong, werewolf." The blood Queen sighed dramatically. "Venetia was a married witch. A happy, married witch, for that matter. She'd been married to another witch for the better part of three decades. Your wolf, Remus, recognised Venetia as his mate and demanded that she returned to the Territories with him. Sound familiar, werewolf? It's a little close to home, isn't it?"

He scowled until Evette gave him a look, obviously calming him down.

"As you can imagine, Remus didn't react very well when he realised Venetia was already in love. Madly, come to think of it. Us witches don't sign our souls over easily. You've got to be utterly lost on a person to agree to that kind of commitment. My kind don't take this matter lightly. And Remus didn't like it. As is to be expected of you werewolves, he did the selfish thing, putting his own needs and feelings before Venetia's. He struck out with a cold malice, murdering her husband in cold blood. The first casualty was a witch, killed by a werewolf's hand."

The wolves were listening to her heartbeat out of habit. Annaliese wasn't lying. Chronos had known she wouldn't. She wasn't so stupid as to lie when she could be caught out for it.

"On the full moon, Venetia followed Remus into the woods and let him believe that she'd fallen for his charms. When the madness got the best of him, she stabbed him through the heart and removed his head."

Annaliese opened the book to somewhere in the middle, where a phial of sorts had been taped to the page. She removed it, emptying the contents onto the table.