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Aziza, daughter of Anipe

Habibah, daughter of Aziza

Nashwa, daughter of Habibah

Zahra, daughter of Nashwa

I traced my fingers over the rows of names. Down to the bottom of the list.

Esetta and Selena, daughters of Tiye

Shara, daughter of Esetta and Selena

With plenty of room beneath it to continue the bloodline.

My throat ached, my vision shimmering with tears. I touched Esetta’s name, wondering if it was even visible to anyone who hadn’t died. Her name might have been lost from living memory, yet like the ancient crumbling ruins in the desert, evidence of her existence lived on in artwork.

She might have borne me from her body, but Selena had raised me. Seeing the truth painted onto the wall—before I was even born—made my heart ache with a tumult of emotions. Love mixed with loss. A sense of abandonment. Even anger and hurt.

Sometimes I wished I could have lived with Esetta as my mother. Growing up in her house, secure in our heritage, protected by her magic and blood.

Though I wouldn’t be here. Now. I wouldn’t have the Blood I have without her sacrifice. I wouldn’t have Guillaume. I might have lost Rik to Keisha.

Losing my mother made this life possible.

Though it still hurt. A soul-deep wound that would never fully heal.

9

GERARD

Everything I had dedicated my life to protect stood before the testament of her lineage. Weeping. And I could do nothing but wait in silence and hope.

Hope she forgave her mother. Hope she forgave us.

Because we knew she must be alive in this world. Somewhere. Needing protection. Needing Blood who understood the power she carried. The hopes and dreams and intentions of the greatest Aima queen to ever walk this earth now made flesh and blood. Though of course I was biased.

I couldn’t say her name. But I knew to the depths of my heart. There had never been a queen greater than her. Until her daughter.

She hadn’t been mighty in power, perhaps, though I would argue she could have toppled the same queens her daughter had brought down thus far, especially once she’d killed Desideria and inherited her legacy. In a way, she had brought them all down—through the careful centuries-long intention to bring her daughter into this world. Free of any of the encumbrances of any existing court. Free to make her own choices.

Though the cost had been great indeed. Not just to the mother, but the daughter as well. My new bond with Shara weighed heavily inside me, tasting of bitter iron and salty tears. The acidic burn of fear. But most of all, the hollow, gnawing ache of grief.

She’d never known her true mother’s arms. The sound of her voice. The smell of her glorious hair, which she now carried herself. More, she’d never known the exquisite burn of her blood. A devastating loss for any vampire queen.

She’d been raised without a single drop of either of her mothers’ magical blood carrying the gifts of their goddess.

Until she tasted me earlier, I hadn’t realized how much her mother’s sacrifice had hurt her. How much it’d wounded her to never know the feel of her mothers’ blood circle shining around her. Until now.

Meanwhile, I had been to this house countless times over the centuries. Usually with her mother. Selena always kept Greyson close, and sometimes fed on the rest of us, but only rarely.

Shara turned her head to look at me. “Why?”

Startled that she’d picked up on my errant thoughts through such a fledgling bond, I stammered, “She preferred only her alpha.”

Her head tipped slightly, her eyes searching mine. “But why? Did she not love all of you?”

I couldn’t answer. Which was the answer.