Despite having had a very good dinner that their mother made from a deer the Amichais had stalked and skinned near the castle, Gemma was still hungry. Hoping there was some bread and stew left, she went down the stairs and headed to the pantry. She walked past a room with a table and stacks of books. That’s where Keeley and Beatrix were deep in very soft conversation.

Her eyes narrowed and she immediately walked into the room, closing the door behind her.

Both her sisters stopped speaking.

“What are we talking about?” she asked.

Beatrix began to reply, but Keeley cut her off. “I think the bigger question, Sister, is why are you here? I always thought War Monks moved in packs. Like dogs. Or rats.”

Gemma took a moment, using all her training to keep herself calm. She didn’t want to become like Uncle Archie and her father. Fighting with Keeley every time they saw each other. They were better than that. Weren’t they?

When Gemma didn’t answer right away, Keeley went on. “I can’t help but notice your timing. We don’t see you for more than a decade but then . . . there you are. Suddenly. And dressed as a nun. That was delightful.”

“If you’re asking whether I knew about the Witches of Amhuinn, I did. Of course I did.”

“And?”

“And I think Beatrix is a little young to be queen.”

“The Old King was the Old King when he was fifteen seasons. She’s twenty-three seasons. She’ll be fine.”

“Keeley—”

“With the right advisors, she’ll be fine.”

Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. “I knew you weren’t going to be reasonable.”

“How is that unreasonable?”

“She can turn it down. Tell the witches no.”

Beatrix, leaning her butt against the table, calmly gazed at Gemma. “And why would I do that?”

Gemma finally focused on her younger sister and she desperately fought the urge to start slapping the arrogance out of her. She knew that wouldn’t work on Beatrix, but part of her still wanted to try.

“Because you shouldn’t be queen. The land will be torn apart—”

“The land will be torn apart anyway. The brothers will ensure that.”

“You have no army. You have no allies. You have nothing, Beatrix. All you’re doing is putting our family in danger. And for what? So you can wear a crown you couldn’t possibly hold on to? Does that make sense to you?”

“What makes sense to me is that our lands need a new leader. I am that leader. If that bothers you . . . I’m sorry. But I will not turn this down.” She placed her hand on Keeley’s shoulder. “We’ll leave tomorrow. With the Amichais. You tell Father.”

And with that, she and her dark green silk gown swept out of the room.

“Have you lost your—”

Gemma jerked back when Keeley slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Shhhh,” she hissed, her forefinger held in front of her lips. “Keep your voice down.”

Keeley went to the door, making sure to close it quietly. When she was done, she faced Gemma.

“Why can’t you be nice?” she asked.

Now Gemma wanted to slap Keeley.

“Because there is no time to be nice,” Gemma practically hissed. “There is no time to let her believe, for even a moment, that she should or could be queen.”

“Why? Because you don’t like her?”

“I wish it were that easy, Keeley. I wish it was just me not liking her so that she could be queen and the rest of us could go on with our lives. But you should know that nothing is that simple. Not in the world we live in.”

Keeley studied Gemma for a moment before she asked, “And what if we tell her right now, tonight, that she can’t be queen? That our parents forbid it. That you and I forbid it. That no one, not even the Amichais, will escort her anywhere. What do you think happens then?”

Gemma met her sister’s gaze, but she couldn’t keep it. Not when she already knew the answer to those questions.

“She goes anyway.”

Keeley pushed away from the door and went to the table. She slid some books aside and sat down, letting her long legs dangle over the side.

“Of course she goes anyway,” she finally said. “She has been waiting for this all her life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“While you were off with monks, I was watching our siblings grow up. Like Mum, I can tell you everything about each of them. The ones who’ll stay on the farm all their lives. The ones who’ll go off to join the military. The ones who will be rich and the ones who will always struggle. And from what I’ve seen of Beatrix . . . she’s been waiting for this since she was born. Since the day Mum held her in her arms and declared to the world, ‘This one is a bit plain.’ ”

Beatrix was a bit plain but it never mattered to the family. Although, now that Gemma thought about it, it clearly mattered to Beatrix. That’s why she wore those gowns while living in the middle of a farm with horses and pigs and chickens. The elaborate hairstyles and well-made jewelry. Because she hated that she was plain, while the rest of them barely cared at all how they looked.

“She’s been waiting her entire life to be queen, Gemma, and nothing we say or do is going to stop her.”

* * *

Gemma became impossibly still, nothing on her moving, while her mind turned over the information Keeley had given her. For a moment, it didn’t even look like she was breathing.

Then she was coming across the room, her finger pointed at Keeley, until she stood only a few inches from her.

“You don’t think she should be queen either . . . do you?”

“She’s a spoiled twenty-three-year-old girl who has never left the house she was born in. Of course I don’t think she should be queen. Princess, perhaps, but not a ruling queen.”

“Then why are you—”

“Why argue with her at this stage? It’s not going to dissuade her. If anything, it’s just going to make her dig her heels in. And, unlike you, I know how stubborn our sister can be.”

“You need to stop throwing in my face how long I’ve been gone.”

“You shouldn’t have left.”

“I have a calling, Sister.”

“The gods speak to you?” she asked.

“Sometimes. Yes.”

“But Beatrix is the irrational one with dreams of grandeur?”

“Those are two very different things.”

“Are they? She believes she can be queen of the Hill Lands and you think you talk to gods. Perhaps be careful before throwing stones from that glass castle.”

Gemma waved Keeley’s very sound logic away and said, “If you don’t think she should be queen, then what are you doing?”

“I will be traveling with her to see those witches.”

“Why?” Gemma barked at her. “Why are you feeding this craziness?”

“I’m not letting my sister go alone with the Amichais.”

“They saved our lives.”

“And I’m grateful. I will always be grateful. But she’s still family. And we protect family. I’m not letting her go anywhere by herself.” Keeley pushed her hair off her face but was annoyed when it slipped forward again. “Especially because I know she’ll need me when this all settles down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once these witches meet her, find out about her, they’ll change their minds. They’ll know she’s not the future queen. And Beatrix will be devastated. She’ll need at least one of us there to comfort her, and Mum can’t go.”

“You so sure that’s what the witches will say?”

“She’s a young woman who has never been more than ten leagues away from the farm she was born in. But, and this is the important part, she is brilliant. I don’t mean she’s smart. I mean brilliant. She’d been able to read when she was still crawling. She could do Mum’s books from the forge by the time she was five. She thinks this is all owed to her because she’s brilliant. You and me . . . ? If someone told us we were going to be queen, we’d say, ‘Me? But I’m a peasant. Who’s going to make us queen?’ But not Beatrix. Beatrix has always known.” Keeley gazed intently at her sister. “And she’s not going to let anyone—especially the two of us—tell her any different.”

“If she’s so brilliant,” Gemma said with great sarcasm, “then why shouldn’t she be queen?”

“Because she has no experience with anything. She knows nothing of war or battle or how to get and keep the loyalty of hard men. She has no allies and no royal connections. And none of the Old King’s sons will want to marry her to legitimize her that way. She has no friends and, from what I can tell, doesn’t want any. I love my sister, but I have no delusions about her, Gemma. She’s a good person and will want to do the right thing, but being queen . . .” Keeley frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“She’s a good person? Seriously?”

“She is to my eyes. Of course, how would you know one way or the other?” Keeley held up her hands. “I’m not going to fight about this with you. I’m going with her tomorrow. And, the gods willing, we’ll be back before the next full moon. I don’t know if life can go back to normal after that, but at least this upsetting part of our drama will be over.”

Keeley jumped off the table and headed toward the door. But Gemma caught hold of her forearm and held her. “Let me go with her tomorrow. You can stay and protect the family with Mum and Da.”

“You?” Keeley couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “I wouldn’t put the Amichais through that. A trip with you two. But, more importantly, you are not the one who will be there for her when she finds out the truth. You’ll rub it in her face before you comfort her.”

“Keeley—”