Page 26 of Queen Takes Knights
She tipped her head. “It’s very common at court, certainly. Every queen has eyes and ears on the others.”
Now I felt stupid. Really stupid. I thought Alrik and Daire had come to me to love and protect me. That all who came would be like them. We’d make love and feed each other, laugh and play games and go places…
Alrik cupped my cheek, turning my face to him. “We shall do all those things and more, my queen. And the Blood you want to keep will also love you. It’s not a stupid or naive thought at all.”
“If a Blood comes that I don’t like, or doesn’t feel right, do I have to accept him?”
“Not just males. There are female and non-gendered Blood. And no, you don’t. If another queen is sending the Blood as a gift, then there will be consequences if you refuse, but you’re not obligated to share your blood with anyone but whom you choose.”
I hadn’t been doing this for long, but already, I knew one thing. Power rose in me, lending weight to my words. “I won’t take a Blood that I don’t love, and who doesn’t love me. I won’t give someone I don’t trust access to my mind and heart and power. I don’t care who that ticks off. I won’t do it.”
Both Alrik and Daire ducked their heads. “As my queen orders, so it shall be.”
“Take the legacy,” Ms. Talbott said softly, drawing my attention back to her. “Claim what’s yours, Your Majesty.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Alrik
Hearing my queen say that she wouldn’t take a Blood that she didn’t love was an unexpected, glorious boon from Isis herself.
After years of serving as a minor sib, I was eager for power, yes. I was eager for royal blood. Hot for the queen’s body. Fuck yeah.
Then Shara called me in the night and I wanted her, and her alone. For all time. It was just… right. I had no doubts or hesitations in coming to her side. I’d do whatever I had to do to keep her safe. Kill. Lie. Cheat. Steal.
Make love to her, and her other Blood, however she wished. I could not fucking wait.
Few Blood were as lucky as Daire and I right now. Blood might be bonded to a queen, and they had the power given to them by her blood, sure. Maybe even semi-regular fucking. But a powerful queen had many Blood to entertain her. The jostling and planning and backstabbing to get to the queen’s bed could be more brutal than a gladiator’s fight.
Of course the alternative was just as unattractive. No one wanted to serve a weak queen who had few Blood, even if that meant they had easy access to her blood and bed. Weak queens were absorbed into larger nests, and became queen-sibs to the more powerful queens. We had another name for that kind of queen.
Pawn.
So the chances that a queen would actually love her Blood…
A motherfucking rarity.
Shara looked at the box and gnawed on her bottom lip. My dick went rock hard. “How do I claim the legacy?”
Ms. Talbott pointed to the upturned hand of the goddess engraved on the box. “Press your thumb into the cup she’s holding, and make your offering.”
The cup was made from a slightly rounded golden disk, with a tiny spike at the center that wasn’t noticeable if you didn’t know to look for it. Shara did as she asked, a soft sigh escaping her lips at the prick to her thumb. Instantly, I smelled her blood. My mouth watered, and Daire made a low, rumbling purr of hunger.
“Steady, boys,” Ms. Talbott laughed, shaking her head.
Shara’s scent rose higher, blood and sex and moonlit pools, sparkling sands and flowering jasmine. I quivered, fighting the urge to haul her against me and bury my fangs in her throat. Or better yet, beg her to test whether her fangs had come in yet on me.
The box clicked and an edge appeared all around the top. A hush fell in the room, so quiet I could hear her heart beating.
With trembling hands, she reached out and removed the top of the box. All three of us leaned closer to get a better look.
The inside of the box was lined in carnelian, painstakingly cut into thin, flat pieces. Four cannisters sat inside the box, each carved with a different lid.
“Are they… burial jars? I can’t think what the name is,” Shara said.
“Canopic jars, and no, they’re not,” Ms. Talbott answered. “Those came to represent the four sons of Horus. These are unique. If you showed them to a Egyptologist, he’d say they were fakes despite their obvious age. They have the wrong lids. Some say these represent Her four daughters, though you probably won’t find much about them except for Bastet and Ammit.”
Shara stretched out her index finger but didn’t actually touch the beautifully carved cat on top of the nearest jar. Another bore a hooded cobra with impossibly long pointed fangs. “Not Her daughters. They’re pieces of Herself. Her… gifts.”
