by G. A. Aiken
Now Laila patted his cheek. “We love you so much.”
“I don’t,” Caid muttered.
“And we’ll find you a lovely mare who adores you for you.”
“Or adores you because she thinks you have power and wealth because of our queen mother,” Caid added. “That’s just as good . . . right?”
* * *
Gemma handed the baby off to her mother and hugged her tight.
“Glad my baby girl is home.”
“Me too. Everything been all right?”
“Now that my girls are back safe.”
Their mother no longer considered Beatrix part of her girls. Not anymore.
“Excuse me, Brother Gemma?” Gemma faced the pacifist monk she’d met all those weeks ago. “Sorry to bother you.”
“No bother, Brother. What can I do for you?”
“Some of the sects—”
“Want to leave now that Cyrus is dead?”
The monk seemed to withdraw a bit, glancing down at the ground. “No. Actually. Does the queen want them to go?”
“Oh, gods, no. No, no, no. I just assumed many would want to return to their monasteries and convents now that Cyrus is dead and most of his army destroyed. I wasn’t trying to rush them out. I know my sister would never ask them to leave.”
“Some of them have nowhere to go. Their sanctuaries have been destroyed and new buildings will take time to rebuild. Others just need time to . . . feel safe again.”
“They can stay as long as they need to.”
“Are you sure Queen Keeley would be—”
“Oy! Keeley!” Gemma called out.
“What?” her sister called back from across the main hall.
“Mind if the religious sects stick around for a bit? You know, until they feel comfortable?”
“Of course! Long as they want. Let them know, Brother, would you?”
“Absolutely, Your Majesty.”
“See?” Gemma said, glancing at the pint of ale someone shoved into her hand. “Told you she wouldn’t mind. I think she likes having all of you here. She finds it very comforting. Very soothing. All these different religious representatives being able to live in the same place and not only get along, but thrive. It makes Keeley feel good to be part of that.”
Gemma grabbed the monk’s arm and yanked him out of the way just as the Abbess hit the ground where he stood, her hand covering her mouth, blood dripping from behind her fingers.
Her mouth open, Gemma gawked at Ragna, who stood behind the Abbess.
“Did you just punch a nun in the face?” she asked her fellow war monk.
“She deserved it.”
“She’s a nun!”
A throat cleared and Gemma heard Katla say, “Sorry to interrupt, but we have some fellow brothers here from other orders who wanted to meet with our current grand master.”
Although they were from different orders, Gemma immediately recognized the other war monks who’d survived the attempted purge by Cyrus. But the way they were glowering at Ragna while Aubin and Ferdinand helped Hurik off the floor, there was no way they’d be willing to have a civil conversation with her now. Or possibly ever.
“Get them settled with our brothers, would you, Katla?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“What are you staring at, Brother Damian?” Ragna challenged. “I think we all remember how you defiled that temple virgin!”
Gemma dragged Ragna a few feet away and demanded, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Ragna barked back. “Absolutely nothing is wrong with me.”
Gemma watched Ragna storm out of the castle. She went to Hurik’s side where Aubin was carefully wiping her split lip and the vicar was pressing snow from outside onto her swollen jaw.
“What did you say to her?” Gemma asked.
“Nothing I hadn’t said before.”
“Hurik.”
“I simply asked if her god had spoken to her lately.”
“What’s so funny?” Gemma asked when Aubin and Balla snorted a laugh and then quickly turned away.
“Oh. You haven’t heard the story, have you?”
“What story?”
Hurik waved at Keeley across the room. “Queen Keeley, dear? Could you come here a moment.”
Keeley rushed over. “Are you all right? I saw Ragna hit you. Do you want me to hit her back for you? I don’t mind hitting her.”
“It’s all right, dear. I’m fine. But you haven’t told your sister the newest story about your hammer.”
“Oh, right!”
Keeley reached back and pulled her hammer out of her holster and held it in front of Gemma between her two hands.
“Look at the work the dwarves did on my hammer before I faced down Cyrus—”
“Not that, dear. The other story.”
Keeley briefly frowned. “Oh! Yeah.” Keeley suddenly grinned. The kind of grin she used to get when she was a little girl. “A god said ‘nice work’ about my hammer. Not this hammer. But this hammer before the dwarves worked on it. Nice work. A god said that.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Tell her which god, Keeley.”
“Oh. Yeah. The one you like. Um . . . I keep forgetting his name.”
And Gemma felt all the blood drain from her face.
“A . . . a war god told you this?”
“Yeah. More-something.”
“Morthwyl? You spoke to Morthwyl?”
“Yes! And he said nice work! About my hammer! But, you know, that could be why Ragna’s a little bitchy these days. She did not take it well when she realized she’d missed him.”
“Missed him?”
“Yeah. He’d already dragged off Cyrus’s soul. I guess I should have been nicer about it, but he’d just complimented my work and I couldn’t hide my excitement.”
“And why should you?” Hurik asked. “If you’re excited, you should show it. Don’t you ever be ashamed of that.”
“Awww. Thank you, Sister.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
“Oh, look.” Keeley pointed. “Centaurs are here. Farlan wanted to see the changes the dwarves made to my new hammer after I told him it was lighter.”
Gemma waited until her sister had gone before facing the only ones she knew would understand: her team of sworn enemies.
“There’s a part of me,” she told them, “that is appalled and disgusted that my heretic sister is the one who now has spoken to two gods in the last two years, while I have spoken to none. See?” she said, pointing. “There she is playing with her demon puppy friends. And yet . . . the fact that it bothers Brother Ragna so much has given me more joy than possibly anything else in my entire monastic life. And I honestly do not know how to manage those inconsistent feelings.”
“That is a tough one, Gemma.” Aubin patted her shoulder. “But we all think you should allow yourself to enjoy this time. You have definitely earned it.”
“Besides,” Hurik said, “after seeing Ragna punch a defenseless nun in the face, you can now put someone in charge of your order who is fair-minded and willing to learn. Not a psychotic nutbag that everyone hates.”
“Is that why you did this?” she asked the nun.
“Mostly. And because it brought great warmth to my heart.”
“That’s all well and good, Abbess. But who, exactly, am I going to find to be the grand master of our order?”
Hurik and the others stared at Gemma for several long moments until Hurik said, “Sooo, you’re not really a quick-witted girl, I see.”
* * *
Quinn saw Agathon standing outside the main hall, attempting not to have a panic attack. He was trying his best, but Quinn could see the struggle.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“The queen is inside, but I was afraid to say anything to her. I was afraid she’d find out who I was and decide to have me killed. I didn’t realize I still wanted to live.”
“Living’s
good.”
“Now that I’m away from Beatrix, it seems like a new option.”
“Maybe you should hold off on meeting the queen tonight.”
“Can I do that?”
“Of course you can.”
“Won’t she be insulted?”
“She won’t care.”
“Because she already hates me?”
“She doesn’t know you, so she won’t care.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
Keeley and Caid walked out of the main hall.
“Quinn! I’m so glad you came back alive and well.” She kissed him and gave him a hug. “And not a word to my father about what you found inside the tunnel. Understand?” she whispered against his ear.
“Not a word.”
“Big feast tonight. Mary made pie for you.”
“Of course she did. She loves me.”
“Like Gemma does?” Caid mocked.
Keeley blinked. “Gemma loves you?”
“He thinks so.”
“Quinn never lies. He’s annoyingly honest. If he says my sister loves him, she loves him. Although why anyone would want to be with a monk . . .” She grimaced and kissed Quinn again. “We’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Oh, Keeley, this is Agathon. We rescued him from Beatrix.”
“From Beatrix? Poor Agathon. Well . . . welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”
The pair walked off and Quinn winked at a stunned Agathon. “Told you.”
“Her sister is Beatrix?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“The shoulders alone . . .”
Chuckling, Quinn went inside and discovered Gemma sitting on the dining table nursing a pint of ale.
He sat next to her, their feet dangling. “My brother and sister do not believe you’re madly in love with me.”
“My sister has now spoken to two gods, including the one I worship. I haven’t even spoken to one.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I know!” She sipped her ale. “And your brother’s a muttering know-it-all.”
“He is a know-it-all!”
Gemma handed him the ale and he took a sip, passed it back to her.
“There’s a push for me to become grand master of my order.”
“Really? I thought it would be Ragna.”
“It probably was going to be. But then she punched a nun. In front of other war monks.”
“Which nun?” Quinn asked.
“Hurik.”
“Okay. I was worried it was, like, a nun-nun. Not Hurik, who can actually take it.”
“No. It was Hurik. And she actually goaded Ragna.”
“Of course she did.”
“Because she wants me to be the grand master.”
“Then be the grand master.”
Gemma shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I haven’t even been general of an army yet.”
“Yes, you have. You are, at this moment, general of a legion in your sister’s army.”
“I forgot about that.”
“Because you were too drunk?”
“Shut up.”
Quinn laughed, then added, “If you really hate it, you can always resign later.”
“Good point. The reality is the next few months and, possibly, years are going to be tough for everybody. We just need to get through them. I still need to be here for Keeley, though. She cannot lose against Beatrix.”
“No, she cannot. None of us can.”
“Oh, and my father can never know—”
“I know.”
“Gemma,” Katla called out from the doorway. “Brother Damian wants to see someone in charge. Now.”
“Why?”
“To talk about Ragna.”
“Dammit.” She let out a breath and then, without even looking, chastised their travel companions, “All of you stop staring at me right this second! I haven’t made up my mind and stop pushing me!”
“Oy, Gemma!”
“Katla, I’m coming.”
“Not that. I’m sending you something.” Katla handed a scroll to a servant who rushed it across the room to Gemma.
Holding it up, Gemma asked, “What is this?”
But Katla was already gone. She looked down at the seal and Quinn heard her breath catch.
“The scroll from Joshua. The one Katla tried to give me earlier.”
With shaking hands, Gemma opened the sealed scroll, read its contents, and immediately began laughing.
She held the scroll against her chest; shining, tear-filled eyes looking at Quinn.
“What does it say?”
Clearing her throat, she asked, “What do you think it might say?”
Quinn shrugged. “Uh . . . love you always? You were the daughter I always wanted? You can find my gold fortune in the mountains behind the monastery. Here’s the map?”
Gemma turned the scroll toward him but he read what was written out loud. “Take the bloody job, spoiled child.”
Wiping tears from her cheeks and laughing, she said, “Fucking Joshua.”
“I would have liked him, wouldn’t I?” he asked.
“You would have. And he would have adored you.”
She tucked the precious scroll into the bag attached to her sword belt and wiped any remaining tears off her face and from her eyes.
With that, she jumped off the table and started to walk away, but she came back and cupped Quinn’s face in her hands. They gazed at each other a long moment before she went up on her toes and he leaned down a bit. They kissed and Quinn realized he’d attached himself to a true challenge. Their lives would never be easy. Thankfully, he had never been one for an easy life.
“I won’t be long,” she said against his mouth.
He watched her disappear out the door and didn’t realize he was being watched until he reached for another pint sitting on a tray near his leg. That’s when he saw his sister a few feet away with her mouth hanging open.
Quinn smirked, sipped his ale, and said, “Told you.”
EPILOGUE
Keeley walked toward the training ring with Gemma and Ainsley, and already Ainsley was complaining.
“Why are we up this early?” she asked again. “The suns aren’t even up yet.”
“You wanted to be trained to fight.”
“Training can’t happen at a decent hour?”
“If she’s going to act like this . . .” Gemma began but her voice trailed off and Keeley immediately saw why. It was the woman standing in the middle of the empty training ring.
She was turning in a slow circle, appearing quite confused.
“Excuse me?” Keeley called out as she and her sisters moved to the ring. “Are you all right? Do you need some help?”
The woman slowly faced her and Gemma defensively stepped in front of Keeley while Keeley pushed Ainsley behind her. Their reactions weren’t surprising considering the two swords strapped to the woman’s back and all the scars on her bare arms, neck, and face.
“What do you want?” Gemma asked the woman.
“I’m looking for the queen of these lands,” she said. “The one who has slaves. The one who has child . . . slaves.”
Keeley opened her mouth to tell the woman she was not that queen when something giant landed hard behind her, shaking not just the ground beneath her feet but the ground for miles. Then it happened again. And again. And again. And again. The buildings around them shook each time. The horses in the stables panicked, kicking at their stalls, some breaking loose and running.
Soldiers ran out of their barracks and froze. Many pissed themselves. Others immediately ran back inside, screaming.
Dragons. In different colors. Different sizes. But all in armor and armed. With wings and horns and fangs. Ready for war.
The dragons continued landing until they completely encircled the four women.
“Invaders!” one of her men called from the watch towers. “Invaders!”
All Keeley could think was, “Little late,” until she realized he wasn’t talking about the dragons.
“Marius’s men! Invade—gods in heaven!” Seeing the dragons for the first time, the alarm-raiser panicked and ran from the dragon poking its snout into the tower. Unfortunately, there was nowhere really to run except out of the tower and to his death. So that was tragic.
The side gates were battered open and Marius’s riders charged in.
The woman said to no one in particular, “Deal with them.”
And a silver dragon lowered its head, turned its long neck toward the invaders, and unleashed a line of flame that engulfed Marius’s small army, wiping them out in seconds.
When the dragon was done, settling back into its original position, Keeley noticed she heard nothing but silence. No birds. No screaming. Not even the wind. Just silence.
The woman walked closer and Keeley realized for the first time that she was gazing into the eyes of a madwoman.
Gemma put her hand on her sheathed sword. If the woman saw her, she didn’t show it. She just abruptly stopped.
“I want the bitch queen who has child slaves,” the woman practically whispered, “and I want her NOWWWWW!” which she ended on a hysterical bellow.
Even though Keeley wasn’t the “bitch queen” with child slaves, she really didn’t know how to respond to that kind of insanity. But she didn’t have to. Because the dragons did.
“Uh-oh,” a gold one said. “Annwyl’s gone ’round the bend. Again.”
“I thought we were going to play nice with these”—the silver one glanced around, appearing vaguely disgusted—“people.”
“Annwyl,” a black dragon calmly stated, “you promised. You promised you were going to be calm and rational. Does this seem calm and rational to you? Does it?”
The madwoman spun around and faced the black dragon. He towered over her the way Keeley’s castle towered over her. And yet, she stomped across the training ring to that giant black dragon and screamed, “I am sick of being calm and rational! They’re using children as slaves! What are we waiting for? Kill all of them!”
“Anyone else enjoy,” one dragon muttered to another behind Keeley, “how Annwyl acts like she’s ever been calm and rational?” The two dragons began to chuckle.
“I know. Like this is all out of the ordinary somehow.”
That comment brought out snorts and more stifled laughter from the surrounding dragons.