So many queens. Tortured. Possibly still trapped in their own houses with no one the wiser.
It’s going to take me forever to find all these queens and free them.
9
ITZTLI
My people have taken plenty of trophies from our enemies, usually to honor the warrior they’d been, even in defeat. I’m far from innocent of such practices.
Lightly, I touched the obsidian blade I inherited from my father. After I killed him.
He used this blade to flay his victims alive and wear their skins around his shoulders. He would’ve proudly worn my skin, if he’d been able to kill me. I’d thought about taking a trophy from his body. Not to honor him—but to remind myself of what I could become.
From him, I inherited a similar hunger for pain. Though I usually preferred toreceivethe pain than to deliver it. The bloodier I became… The better.
Staring at the Dauphine’s cabinet, I was sickened not by the trophies themselves, but what they represented to her. Her victims weren’t honored in their death. They were used. These trophies enslaved them to her will.
:I have an idea to try,:my queen said in her bond.:If you’re willing.:
:Always,:I replied without hesitation.
She filled me so completely I could smell her lush scent. Blowing desert sands and night-blooming flowers. Pure crystal water shining beneath a full moon. Precious herbs and incense burning on a goddess’ altar. Using my body, she stood before the cabinet and stretched out our hand to lightly touch the shriveled tongue.
An image filled our mind. Another queen with a honey blonde braid. A sweet cherub face with smooth, pale cheeks and blue eyes.
:Illa Fólkvangr,:Shara whispered in my mind.:I’ve never met her, but I know her name. I see her nest. She’s still alive, though she’s in a deep, frigid lake not a muddy pit.:
Using my hand, she shut the cabinet and went to another drawer.
:Shelley Galatas, still alive. Laurell Akkad, dead. Though I can feel exactly where her bones are. Sophia Kazak, dead.:One by one, we opened the drawers, identifying the trophies’ owners.:Isabelle Vasconia.:
The next to last row was all that remained. My hand flowed over the drawers, not needing to open them now to identify their contents.:This one. This is Leonie’s.:
I carefully lifted out the hand and tongue.:I’m on my way, my queen.:
She started to withdraw, drawing an involuntary whine from my lips. The sound a dog makes when it yearns for his owner’s affection. In our bond, she pressed her forehead to mine, her arms around me.
:I’m sorry, my queen. I just love having you inside me like this.:
:Never be sorry that you need me, Itztli. I need you too.:
Her mind relaxed, sinking deeper into me rather than withdrawing, her spirit resting against mine as I trotted down the stairs and back outside to find her beneath the tree. She still lay in the embrace of the kraken’s tentacles with the other queen against the front of her body. Streaked in dried mud, the queenstill fed on Shara. My queen’s other sibling knelt beside them both with a glowing white nimbus.
“I’m surprised she’s able to take so much of your blood, my queen,” Gwen said as I neared. “As powerful as you are, your blood is difficult for lesser queens to assimilate. Though it’s certainly making my job easier. Every internal injury is healed except for her hand and tongue.”
Eyes hazy and relaxed, Shara looked up at me with a soft smile on her lips as I dropped to my knees beside Rik. “I remember when I gave Mayte blood for the first time. She could only take a few swallows.”
“It was the same for me,” I admitted hoarsely. “I feared one taste of your blood would release the monster inside me. Yet Coatlicue promised my destined queen would be strong enough to both wield and sheathe Her obsidian blade.”
Shara’s eyes shifted to some distant horizon I could not see, even though her spirit still flowed with mine. “Your goddess wears a necklace of human hands and hearts.”
I nodded. “She does.”
“Snakes. Not just a skirt of snakes but…” Her eyes re-focused on my face. “I see large red snakes where Her head and arms should be.”
“In some of our legends, She and other goddesses sacrificed themselves to birth the Fifth Sun. When She’s depicted in artwork, the red snakes at Her neck and arms represent the spray of Her blood. Though in other traditions, Nanahuatzin jumped into the fire to sacrifice himself, rising as the Tonatiuh, the new Fifth Sun.”
Because her spirit still hovered inside me, she saw the memory sparked by that story. In Teotihuacan, I’d called upon my goddess to help me save my twin from the Tocatl queen. In exchange, I promised Her my heart, fully expecting to die. Only later, did I understand how Shara would accomplish such asacrifice—and still let me live. So I could be here now and feel the brush of her soul against mine.
