The Princess Knight (The Scarred Earth Saga Book 2)

by G. A. Aiken

  “I’ll get our weapons,” he said, disappearing from the window.

  They were both dressed and armed in less than five minutes. Before they ran out the door, though, Ainsley held up the wine bottles. “Is this what you were drinking last night?”

  “Yes,” Gemma answered, adjusting her sword belt. “Why?”

  “You know this isn’t the expensive stuff, right? Archie threw that out.”

  Gemma’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “This is the dwarf wine King Mundric gave to Keeley. Archie didn’t want anyone stealing it. So he tossed out the expensive stuff some duke or whatever had sent over and replaced it with the dwarf wine.” Ainsley looked at the number of bottles lying around, then at Gemma and Quinn. “You’re both lucky you’re still standing.”

  “We’re both lucky we have all our bones!” Gemma snapped back. “Drink enough of that stuff, I heard it melts them.”

  “That’s an old wives’ tale,” Quinn said, moving toward the front door, holding it open for the two women. “It just crumbles the bones. Like salt.”

  “How is that better?” Gemma asked.

  “I didn’t know we were going for better. I thought we were going for accuracy.”

  * * *

  Quinn followed Gemma into the main hall, where their travel team was huddled in a group, whispering amongst themselves. Never a good sign. Even worse. No witches.

  “Where is Adela?” she barked.

  When all she got back were blank stares, “And the other witches?”

  “We didn’t know it was our responsibility to keep an eye on the witches.”

  Gemma stepped toward Father Aubin, one finger pointed, ready to start a good reaming, when Keeley came down the stairs.

  “Morning, everyone,” she called. When the others began to bow, she quickly waved all that off and instead asked, “Any of you see a missing puppy? Flamey eyes?” she added.

  They all shook their heads and Keeley sighed.

  “Well, let’s meet later then. I have to find her. All of you eat and relax. Okay?” She patted Gemma’s shoulder before disappearing deep into the castle.

  Once she was gone, Gemma let out a long breath and dropped dramatically against the dining table.

  “You didn’t tell me she was hysterical,” she accused Ainsley.

  “Hysterical?” Quinn repeated. “Keeley?”

  “You didn’t see it?” she asked, shocked.

  “That was hysterical to you?”

  “You really didn’t see it?”

  “Uh . . .” He glanced at the others and merely got shrugs and expressions of confusion, which he had to admit did make him feel better. He was afraid he might be losing his mind.

  Ainsley shook her head at Quinn. “It’s like you’re blind.”

  “Just forget it!” Gemma motioned to the others. “You lot come with me. I’ll need your skills to help me track that puppy and the witches.”

  “You’re serious?” Balla asked.

  “I have never been more serious in my life. Now let’s move!”

  They went out the main hall front doors but Quinn immediately stopped and turned.

  “Gemma?”

  “What?”

  He motioned to a spot against the castle wall where one of the other witches, Ima, stood wide-eyed, biting the fingernails of her left hand down to the quick.

  Gemma swung around and moved quickly to stand in front of the witch.

  “Where is she?”

  “We didn’t want this,” Ima said. She’d never really spoken before. It was always Adela who’d spoken for them. Ima’s voice was much lower than Quinn had expected. “She’d heard about the wolves long before we got here. But they didn’t want anything to do with her. Nothing. I thought it was over. Until she saw the puppies and sensed the power contained in their bodies . . .”

  Gemma stepped closer. “Where is she, Ima?”

  Quinn understood the witch’s struggle. Adela was her high priestess. She ruled their coven. By giving information to outsiders, she was not simply betraying Adela, she was betraying her entire coven. But this wasn’t about the life of some hell beast. Gemma could not care less about the hell beast puppy or whether it lived or died. Her fear was how her sister would react to what she would definitely see as a betrayal. Of her and her queendom.

  “If we’re going to do something,” Balla hissed, going up on her toes, “let’s make it soon. Ragna’s coming.”

  Ima lowered her hand and chewed on her lip. But after another moment’s hesitation, she turned.

  “This way,” she said before quickly walking away, heading through the town.

  They all followed her. But Ragna must have caught sight of them because she began to follow. Thankfully, it wasn’t the first time most of these people had needed to lose Ragna in a crowd. Balla flicked her hand, sending Ragna tripping and sliding into a group of stonemason dwarves.

  By the time they were all done yelling at her and accusing her of doing it to benefit the centaurs—an accusation they hurled at anyone who caused them the slightest problem—their group had disappeared into the nearby forest outside of town.

  “By the hearts of peace,” the Abbess gasped. “I know this place. The other sisters come here at dawn to pray.”

  “She’s purposely defiling this area,” Aubin growled.

  “Then we stop her,” Gemma replied, before quickly moving on.

  Ima led the way until she cried out and suddenly ran forward, dropping down next to one of the other witches. Stretched out on the ground with blood pouring from her eyes, Wassa pointed.

  Adela held the puppy between her hands, smiling at them.

  Léandre charged forward but when he was about ten feet from her, he flew back as if he’d hit a wall or a tree head-on. Blood poured from his forehead and nose.

  Balla threw lightning bolts but they simply bounced off and nearly struck Quinn, forcing him to drop to the ground.

  The assassins unleashed poison into the ground. It moved across the earth like snakes, sliding under Adela’s protective barrier. But she pressed her foot into the dirt and the grass around her froze, stopping the poison in place.

  Gemma didn’t bother to attack with her weapon, she simply walked up to where she assumed the barrier was.

  “Give me that dog, Adela.”

  “Hand over all this power?” the witch asked. “You don’t even want it. And your idiot sister doesn’t even know what she has.”

  Gemma’s hands twisted into fists at her sides. “Talk about my sister again.”

  “And you’ll what . . . War Monk? What will you do? While I hold so much power in my hands?”

  “It’s a dog.”

  “See what I mean? So much power and it’s wasted on all of you.”

  The Abbess circled around the barrier, sizing it up. Tapping at it with her battle staff.

  Standing again, Quinn moved toward it, but the Abbess shook her head. He felt he could get through any magickal protection created by the witch, but he’d let the others take the lead for now. Maybe it was wiser to make his move when it was absolutely necessary.

  “Just give me the dog, witch.”

  Adela chuckled and held the dog up so she could stare into its fiery eyes. She began chanting and, within a few seconds, the puppy began to mewl and whine, twisting and turning in the witch’s hands. Soon it began to scream. It was in pain and even though Gemma didn’t care about the hell beasts, she did not like to see any animal—hell beast or not—tortured.

  Gemma slammed her fists against the barrier, screaming, “Let it go, Adela! Let it go!”

  Ima ran to the barrier, pressing her fingers against it and beginning her own chant. The gentle winter wind grew loud and wild, so strong the tops of the trees began to bend.

  Startled, Gemma stepped back. Then she pulled her sword.

  “Go!” Ima yelled over the screaming wind. “Go now!”

  Gemma raised her weapon and began to charge toward Adela. Just as she reache
d the witch, about to strike, another blade was thrust into the witch from behind, tearing through Adela’s chest and forcing Gemma back.

  But she shot her hand out in time to catch the puppy as it was dropped by Adela.

  Eyes wide, Adela looked over her shoulder. “You?”

  The blade tore up higher until it reached the witch’s throat. When it pulled out and the body dropped, it was the truce vicar who stood there.

  He took a moment to wipe the blood off his curved blade, using the witch’s gown.

  “When we truce vicars need things to go a certain way,” he said over the dying winds, “we don’t let things like witches get in our way. Who has time for that?”

  Ferdinand stepped over the body, briefly stopping to tuck his blade under his robes.

  “Who has time to reason with the unreasonable?” he asked before throwing his arms wide and greeting Keeley with one of his happy grins and a “My queen! So good to see you on such a beautiful morning!”

  His wide-open arms blocked the sight of the dead witch behind him, and the rest of them moved in to make sure Keeley saw nothing as she walked into view.

  “Morning, Lord Ferdinand.” She looked around as she moved. “Felt like a storm was coming, didn’t it?”

  “Our meeting is still happening, yes?”

  “Yes, yes. I just need to find—Gemma! You found her!” Keeley immediately scooped the puppy out of her sister’s arms, her smile so wide and happy that it nearly blinded them all.

  “Hello, little one. I’m so glad to see you again.” She leaned in and whispered, “I didn’t know how I was going to tell your mother I’d lost you.” Now she looked at Gemma. “She’s her mother’s favorite. So, excellent job.”

  Keeley turned around and headed back toward the castle. The truce vicar smiled at Gemma and followed the queen.

  They began to relax but Keeley suddenly turned around and asked Gemma, “Is everything okay? You all look a little unwell.”

  “Yes, we’re fine. Why?”

  “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure.” Rubbing the puppy against her chin, she headed off again.

  When they were all sure the queen wasn’t coming back, they turned toward what was left of the witch.

  “What should we do with her body?” Balla asked.

  “We can leave it for the wildlife,” Tadesse suggested. “They’ll eat her. She deserves no better.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Are we not going to discuss what we just witnessed—the peaceful truce vicar stabbing the witch? Because I feel that’s something we should discuss. In detail.”

  Gemma frowned. “But he explained it. She was in his way.”

  “And we’re just going to let him wander off with your sister?”

  “Why would he stab her?”

  Quinn was about to argue that point when he heard a growl. They all heard that growl. He could tell because they all stopped talking and began backing up.

  None of them saw anything. Not even Quinn. But they could feel it. Could sense it moving around them. Could hear it breathing. Eventually, Quinn could even feel the fur brushing against his legs, feel the tail curling around his knees.

  When it finally settled behind the witch’s body, it appeared.

  And Gemma had not been exaggerating. It was huge. The mother of the demon wolf puppies stood over them all, even Quinn in his centaur form. Fangs oozing with blood and flames bursting not only from her eyes but from her nostrils as well. With each breath.

  She looked over each of them and, for a brief, terrifying moment, Quinn thought they were all dead. All doomed to a lifetime in hell.

  But they’d done the right thing, he quickly realized. They’d all fought to save the puppy and had returned it to Keeley, the one chosen to protect the puppies on this plane.

  But the witch who had taken the mother’s favorite? She would receive no kindness.

  The she-wolf began to drag the witch’s body off, and immediately the priests turned away from the sight. Until the screaming began.

  Léandre turned around first, puzzled. “I thought she was dead.”

  “She is dead,” Gemma said, walking away.

  Quinn didn’t understand at first. How could Gemma just walk away? But she understood all too well, didn’t she? As a necromancer, she understood everything.

  The screams weren’t coming from the witch’s body, but from her soul. The mother wolf was pulling the soul away from the body and, in desperation, the witch held on with all she was worth. Her soul actually left finger marks in the dirt where she dug them in, fighting not to be dragged off. It didn’t help, though. She’d angered the mother wolf. She’d not only taken the mother wolf’s favorite; she’d made the pup suffer. She’d hurt her. Quinn understood that the wolf had watched everything. She had waited to see what each of them would do. Would they help? Would they do nothing? She could have moved at any time to help her pup but she had wanted to see what she was dealing with first. That was cold and calculating but it told Quinn all he needed to know about the wolf demon. Why she still lived below in one of the hells while her mate lived with Keeley here among the humans.

  The mother wolf dug her blood-covered fangs into the witch’s soul and yanked, pulling it away from her body, and Quinn heard it tear away from its foundation. Heard the soul scream in absolute pain and suffering. A sound he prayed never to hear again.

  The soul begged them all—begged—for them to help her. To pull her away from this thing that had her. But none of them felt she was worth it.

  Once the mother wolf had the soul far enough away, she lifted her head and chomped, chewed, and swallowed until that soul disappeared down into her gullet. She gulped once. Swallowed again. Burped. Those flame eyes looked them over once more before she turned and walked off. The mother wolf’s body grew fainter with each step she took until they could just hear her padding away into the forest . . . and then nothing.

  They all stood there, staring straight ahead for several long minutes. None of them speaking. Unable to move.

  Finally, it was Balla who broke the silence as she asked, “So does that she-wolf live here too?”

  “No,” Quinn quickly told her. Told them all. “Absolutely, no. Just no. She should be taking her pups and returning to her hell any day now.”

  “Okay. Good to know.”

  They all nodded and silently agreed never to speak about what they’d just seen. Because, honestly, why would they?

  Ever?

  CHAPTER 22

  Ima helped Wassa to sit up, relieved her coven-sister was awake and alert. When she’d seen her lying there, just a few feet from Adela, Ima had thought for sure she was dead. That the bitch had killed her. She’d been so relieved to see her move and point in Adela’s direction. Ima knew then she’d have to kill Adela or, at the very least, help these people kill her. If she didn’t, Adela would put Ima and Wassa to death. As traitors. Even if they’d never betrayed her.

  It was Adela who was the betrayer. While their coven-sisters were out there dying under the lash and sword of Cyrus’s soldiers, she was thinking only of herself. She hadn’t gone with the rest of the coven to the safety of foreign lands only because she wanted a chance at Queen Keeley’s demon wolves. She could not care less about aligning herself with Keeley, Beatrix, or even Cyrus. She didn’t care if every sect was destroyed. In her mind, if would be fine if they were, because all that would be left was Adela, her power, and the coven she would control.

  When the vicar’s blade tore through Adela’s chest, Ima had the feeling he was one of the few who could have killed her body. The others were too tainted by war, by the blood of battle chaos. But not the vicar. He worked to stop war; to stop the chaos.

  Now, however, the queen had the puppy again, Adela’s soul had been dragged to hell, and Ima and Wassa were alone with those who had been known to happily burn witches.

  As she brushed Wassa’s hair from her face and checked the cuts and bruises on her cheek and neck, Ima saw chainmail boots standing
in front of her. She looked up and found Brother Gemma of the Order of Righteous Valor standing over them. The rest of their travel companions were standing behind her.

  Slowly, the war monk crouched in front of them. That hard face glared at them, looking her and Wassa over. Wassa’s fingers dug into Ima’s forearm.

  They couldn’t escape. All mystical doorways had been closed by the gods themselves to prevent Cyrus’s minions from transporting themselves. So all they could do was fight with what power they had left.

  “What do you know about horses?” the war monk asked.

  “Uh . . .”

  “And necromancy?”

  “Well—”

  “And raising creatures from the dead. But raising them alive. Not raising them to be undead. Do you know anything about that?”

  Ima glanced at Wassa and then back at the war monk. “What?”

  * * *

  “You really fucked your horse up, didn’t you?”

  Gemma shoved the chuckling Quinn away before turning to the remaining witches.

  “Can you help me or not?”

  Ima watched Kriegszorn run in the training circle. “Is this really your focus right now?”

  “I want to take her with me. I hate the thought of leaving her all alone here.”

  “Because you love her so much or you’re afraid she’ll eat your family?”

  Gemma didn’t bother turning around this time at the sound of laughter, merely reached out and slapped Quinn until he stepped away.

  “Again, can you help or not? We’re leaving in a few days.”

  “What exactly did you do to her when you raised her?” Wassa asked.

  “I’m still not sure. I loved my Kriegszorn. If I’d had any other option, I never would have done that to her. But we needed a way out.”

  “What do you mean?” Ainsley asked. “That you never would have done that to her?”

  “I would never raise a brother or a friend. And Kriegszorn was a friend.”

  “Why wouldn’t you raise a friend?” Ainsley asked.

  Gemma exchanged glances with the witches. She really didn’t want to get into this with her younger sister.