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Eyes shining, Gwen looked up at Lancelot standing behind her. “Gale and Percy may be alive. We must go. As soon as we’re done here.”

Lancelot kissed her forehead. “At once, my queen.”

“Again, I wouldn’t wish—” Warwick began.

“I’ll find them,” Gwen broke in firmly. “Is Queen Damiana still alive?”

“No. I don’t know who may hold Houska Castle now.” Outwardly, Warwick didn’t move or change even his tone. But a crackle of lightning crawled through my mind. Gone in an instant. “Damiana died when she infected me.”

30

WARWICK

It might have been centuries, yet to me, it seemed like yesterday. Perhaps because my mind had fractured long ago. I might have been imprisoned in the iron maiden, but in my mind, I was still there.

Beneath Houska Castle.

“Catacombs and dungeons beneath the chapel.” Voice hoarse, I paused, swallowed, and cleared my throat. “Deep into the earth, tunnels carved out long ago. Some of her knights moved freely through the labyrinth. I suppose they were her true Blood. The rest of us were merely her pawns.

“For some time, she was satisfied with luring knights through grail rumors. But then, a certain demon knight of Payns was called to Constantinople, and she began to fear the black hell horse would be sent to cleanse her court, such that it was. You became known as the Executioner, Sir Guillaume, the feared headless Templar knight who couldn’t be killed. You exterminated entire courts. Effortlessly. It didn’t matter how many Blood—or knights—might be within. So she became obsessed with finding a way to protect herself if the Executioner ever came to her gate.

“As I said before, my heritage through Tishtyra led her to focus on using me to counter your hell horse. Already wounded for her grail trap, I bled endlessly. I never died from blood loss even though she never allowed me to feed beyond the initial bond to compel me. Though I couldn’t shift, either. The wound truly made me impotent of any power. Then, by chance, she lured another horse shifter to Houska, and that’s when she decided to create the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“Who was the other horse shifter?” Sir Guillaume asked.

“Sir Aethon Romegas, named for Ares’ fiery horse, so of course he became the Knight of War. The other two knights weren’t horse shifters, but they were knights from orders or with names who could be interpreted as representing the apocalypse horsemen. Serlon of the Ordre de l'Étoile and Ivon the Black. She planned to implant each of us with different Nosoi, causing wasting diseases, fevers, cancers, and yes, pestilence. But the Nosoi only infect humans. She needed to do something more if she wished to infect Aima.

“What started as an urge to protect her court from the Executioner became an obsession. Fed, in no small part, by her relationship with Queen Panega.”

A young male standing with other humans to the side gasped softly. “We know that name.”

Shara nodded. “While we were dying, I asked the Dauphine’s blood beneath this house to show me how she intended to use you, Sir Warwick. I knew she would’ve been too selfish to allow herself to die in the resulting plague, so she must have some kind of antidote or failsafe hidden here in this house. I saw her accept you already trapped in the iron maiden along with a wooden casket marked with a cup. The woman who gave it to her said it contained a vial of Panega’s blood.”

For a moment, lightning crashed and splintered through me. So many endless plots, these Aima queens, always scheming and maneuvering against one another. Killing courts, entire cities and civilizations, with no regard for the cost of blood required to do their bidding.

And why, pray tell?

Simply because they were daughters of goddesses.

The power in their blood made them so callous to the sanctity of life as to be insane.

“I am familiar with the Dauphine,” I rasped, trying to quell the crashing storm of ozone in my veins. “Even in my day, she was feared only second to Desideria, because of her Executioner. I didn’t know she’s the one who held me here.”

“First Jeanne Viennois, then her granddaughter, Rosalind Valois.” Shara paused, her head tipping slightly as she studied me. “They’re both dead.”

I didn’t miss the white flash of fangs. She hungered. So far, she’d controlled herself despite the wealth of blood dripping from my body.

Splinter. Bolts of lightning. Tearing through my mind. Memories buffeting me like storm-tossed seas. Hands and mouths on me. Feeding on me.

I’d forgotten. Until now. Blocked it from my mind.

Now I remembered how queens dealt with a bleeder like me.

“Sir Warwick?” Her voice neared. Though I couldn’t see her. I was back inside the iron maiden. Sealed away from the world. All touch. All senses. Too dangerous.

“I was the grail,” I finally rasped out, blinking. Trying to find my way back to the present. “Endless. Cup. Of blood. Can’t stop. Bleeding.”

Something soft pressed to my lips. Silken, fragrant, so enticing my body acted while my mind was still trapped.