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Guillaume’s steady light-blue gaze never flinched from mine. :He might have been created to destroy me, but he will never succeed, my queen.:
I felt Gerard and Daire approaching with my siblings and their Blood, so I waited a moment for them to join me. Both Gwen and Mayte strode straight to me, dropped to their knees, and enveloped me in a tight hug. No words. Just comfort. Exactly what I needed.
For a few precious moments, I clung to them both. Without worrying about judgement or repercussions for showing weakness. I let myself shake and lean against them, though I had no more tears to shed.
Sweet flowers. Honeyed mead. In my arms. Crying with how closely they’d come to losing me.
“Thank you for coming,” I whispered, feeling more like myself. “I’m very lucky to have you.”
Gwen squeezed my hand. “We’re the lucky ones, Shara.”
Mayte kissed my cheek. “Praises to the Great One and the Mother of All for guiding you safely through the Shadow of Death.”
“I’m afraid I may have angered Coatlicue. I refused to let Her claim my twins. Without them guiding me back, I’m not sure that I would have been able to resurrect myself this time.”
Itztli and Tlacel stepped closer, bending down to give their sister fierce, tight hugs.
“We will make atonement to Coatlicue, my queen,” Itztli said. “Though if She hadn’t allowed us to return to you, we would still be at Her jade throne waiting for you.”
My Blood brought two more chairs to place on either side of me, close enough I could hold my siblings’ hands. So fucking grateful for their unwavering support, I bit my lip and allowed my blood to drip down my chin.
The tapestry unfolded in my mind. Pearly white shone from my siblings, especially Gwen, the White Enchantress. She glowed like a captured star against the midnight sky. Mayte’s glow tinged with green growing things. The energy of the earth, or more specifically, the jungle. Our Blood glowed all around us in deep pulses of red. Their alphas burned like ruby bonfires, each standing behind his queen’s chair. Mine to use if I needed them. Though I would never take what I did not love.
Did I dare love again? More? Could I open my heart once more after losing everything?
Yes, we were still alive. But my psyche was far from unscathed. I wouldn’t soon forget wandering the billowing gray alone, trying to find my Blood. Afraid I might never see them again.
Reluctantly, I raised my inner gaze to Warwick.
Prismed droplets shone around him. Cut crystals and precious gemstones, falling like raindrops. The earthy smell of rain engulfed me again. Ozone mixed with petrichor. Flavored with blood. Endless blood. An ocean lapping the beach as he galloped past.
His gift. Like Sekh, he was a bottomless well of blood. Which had made him so fucking dangerous as the carrier of pestilence.
Despite everything, my mouth watered. My fangs started to drop, slurring my speech. “How were you injured, Sir Warwick?”
“In the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries, I was stationed at Krak des Chevaliers in the County of Tripoli along with many other fellow Knights Hospitaller, holding the region during the Crusades. I was injured too many times to count during those battles, but this particular wound was never dealt on the battlefield. When my former queen, Melisende of Jerusalem, died, I was Called by Queen Damiana to Houska Castle.”
Guillaume let out a low whistle. “I’ve heard some interesting legends about that place.”
“Like?” I asked.
“Supposedly it was built over a gateway to hell, with all of its defenses pointing inward, as if they feared what might crawl out of the crevice beneath the chapel.”
Warwick nodded. “The reality is so much worse.” He sighed, his fingers plucking at the blanket around him, his gaze focused on the woven threads. “I thought she meant to make me her Blood, but her plans were much more nefarious. She compelled me to her side, not just because of my experience as a knight but also because of my beast. I’m descended from Tishtyra, symbolically a pure white horse who battles the demon Apaosha, a terrifying black horse.”
Exactly what I’d seen on the bloody beach. “A white horse to battle my hell horse.”
Warwick lifted his gaze to mine, his dark eyes haunted pits of despair. “Damiana was obsessed with all sorts of religious symbols and stories, not just those of Zoroastrian tradition but also Christian and Jewish traditions. Even Arthurian stories.”
Gwen sucked in a deep breath. “Which ones, sir knight?”
“Tales of the Fisher King and the Holy Grail.” He gestured to the bleeding wound. “Exactly why she had me wounded like this. It amused her to make her Knight of Pestilence impotent like the king in those legends. To use my constant bleeding and pain to weave her own rumors across the land, drawing knights to the castle in the middle of nowhere in hopes they would locate the Holy Grail. Instead, they too became entrapped by Damiana.”
Gwen tightened her grip on my hand. “Which Arthurian knights? Do you recall, Sir Warwick?”
“My apologies for not introducing you to my siblings,” I said before he could answer. “Sir Warwick, meet Her Majesty Gwenhwyfar Findabair, Daughter of Guinevere, Queen of Camelot, and Her Majesty Mayte Zaniyah, Daughter of Coatlicue, Queen of Mexica. I am Shara Isador, Daughter of Isis.”
“Your Majesties.” His eyes widened and he inclined his head gravely to Gwen and then Mayte. “Forgive me for not rising to bow or kneel to show you the proper respect. As to your question, Your Majesty, there were many knights called to Houska, and many met their end in one plot or another, so I would not wish to give you false hope any of them may still be alive. Though there were two knights drawn specifically because of the Grail legend that may be of particular interest to you. Sir Galahad and Sir Percival.”
