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“You promised!”

“HELP ME!”

“MAAAAAMMMAAAAA!”

Gritting my teeth, I burned every black drop. I even kicked every single black shard into the pool to make sure they were destroyed. While Warwick bled endlessly into the churning morass, providing the fuel I needed to burn every drop.

Though in the end, I heard a soft whisper. Meant only for me.

“At least you didn’t fucking die this time. Ass on green. You did it. My queen. So fucking proud. I can’t fucking wait. Forgive me. Fly free, Shara Isador. While you still can.”

64

WARWICK

Inever claimed to be a smart man.

A skilled, experienced warrior knew not to ask too many questions or think too hard for himself. You followed orders. Even in the chaos of the battlefield, keeping to the chain of command and not thinking too hard about preserving my own skin had been the only way to survive. Centuries in the iron maiden hadn’t changed that core building block inside me. If anything, it only encased my spirit in tempered steel.

As I understood it, Sir Guillaume was in my chain of command. Then the alpha. Then our queen. Nothing else mattered. Not even the other Blood.

They didn’t disguise their sneers of contempt. I didn’t care. Not one whit. Except for Sir Guillaume. I respected the former Templar knight, and now that I held Isador blood, I was astounded to realize his honor still held despite the dark centuries of his life.

Such honor I could respect, and I wished he respected me equally. Yet it was clear, he did not.

Though not in my chain of command, Durandal’s scorn especially cut deep. A warrior revered enough even in my day to have great romances and poems written about his adventures with Roland. Freshly forged, his blade offered no quarter. No forgiveness. No pity.

Not that I asked for any.

Though the longer I witnessed our queen in action, I couldn’t help but begin to understand that I’d misjudged Shara Isador. Severely.

Grim-faced and pale, yet as determined and fearless as any warrior with which I’d ever ridden to battle, she methodically destroyed the remnants of Screaming Madness on this side of the veil despite the insane insults it spewed at her. I watched her lovely, young face, tight with concentration. Her emotions as locked down as her features, revealing nothing.

Yet I hadn’t missed the way she’d recoiled at my first words in the bond.

She couldn’t bring herself to even look at me.

I didn’t understand why her hands trembled. Why the big alpha wrapped her in his arms, his chin on her head, while she finished the task. Their deep affection was apparent, even to me. Despite her impressive power at such a young age, she had chosen to not only risk herself—but also all the remaining living Triune queens—to retrieve one lost, damned soul.

Even more shocking, I didn’t get the impression this soul she’d risked everything to save was even a part of her court. So I could only imagine how much harder she might fight to save and protect one of her Blood if she loved them as much as she claimed.

“I only take Blood that I love.”

Did I dare even contemplate such emotion might someday extend to me?

To be fair, I’ve never served a queen with love. It hadn’t even occurred to me that genuine emotion and lasting regard may be a motive for any Blood to serve his queen.

How lucky these Blood are to be called by Shara Isador.

How lucky I had been to be found by her. Any other queen would have wielded me as a weapon to clear the battlefield and reset the game to her favor.

Though despite her deep affection for them, the Blood bonds were unusually silent after a rather chatty, rowdy back-and-forth bombardment that I barely followed. Perhaps she needed to feed, especially after such a mighty battle. I no longer believed she might feast upon me with no regard for what I’d endured. Even now, with my inner grail bleeding effortlessly to destroy the black pool, she made no move to feed on me.

She must require me to give her clear consent.

So I lifted my wrist toward her in silent offering.

A small cry escaped her lips. A sound of distress. The alpha swept her up into his arms with a hard look at me and carried her into the tunnel.