Gemma motioned to the witches’ home. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she replied. Then she immediately ordered, “All right. Let’s go.”

She rode down the hill while the others followed. But Keeley waited a bit, watching her sister ride off. It took her a moment to realize that Caid was still beside her.

“Your sister isn’t one for taking a moment to enjoy the beauty of things, is she?”

“My sister finds beauty in books.”

“I understand that. My brother is the same way.”

“Is that why he didn’t come with you and Laila?”

“No. He didn’t come because he didn’t give a flying fuck who the next ruler was because they’re all bad. According to him,” Caid added.

Keeley laughed. Her first since the day before. The closer they got to the Amhuinn Mountains, the sadder she felt. She missed her family. She missed her shop. She missed the wild horse herd. She missed just being able to take hammer to steel. Even though they’d burned their family home to the ground, it could be rebuilt. But even without the farm, just being with her kin would make her feel better. The gentle bickering of her parents. The screams and laughter of her siblings. She needed to feel that love again. The love of family.

“It’s going to be all right, you know,” Caid said.

“What is?”

“All of this.”

“What if they don’t want her?” Keeley finally asked.

“Don’t want her?”

“As queen. What if they change their minds?”

Caid raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to help them change their minds?”

“What?” Keeley quickly shook her head. “No! No, no. I would never do that.”

“But you think she shouldn’t be queen?”

Keeley twisted her lips and tightened her grip on her reins. “Forget it.”

“Keeley, it’s all right. It’s good to question. It’s good not to take things at face value.”

“She’s my sister. I love her. I should want her to be queen.”

“No one doubts you love your sister.”

“But I’m a horrible person, yes?”

“No. That is not what I was about to say.”

“But I should want her to be queen. She’s so smart and, yes, she’s young, but what she doesn’t know she can easily learn. With her intelligence, she could be an amazing ruler. I should be helping her obtain her goals, not hoping the witches choose someone else.”

“You do know that most people would want their sister to be queen, but only so others would be forced to call them ‘m’lady’ or ‘m’lord’ or so they could have unlimited access to the Old King’s gold and jewels.”

“I wouldn’t mind having some jewels,” Keeley admitted. “I’ve always wanted to make my father a copy of his old battle sword from when he was a soldier. Only I’d include a jeweled hilt.” She grinned, nodded at Caid. “The mistake a lot of people make is that they want the entire hilt to be covered in jewels. In battle, that will do nothing but hurt your hand. But if it’s done correctly, you can display a jeweled sword on your wall or pull it down and destroy an entire army in case of attack. My da would love that.”

Keeley took a moment to think about her dream sword and that’s when she noticed that the centaur who never smiled had a grin so wide, she barely recognized him.

They stared at each other until she asked, “That isn’t what you meant . . . is it?”

Laughing, he rode off and Keeley followed.

CHAPTER 9

As they rode up to the front gates of the mountain fortress of the Amhuinn Witches, armed and armored guards glowered at them from behind full steel helms; their eyes a bright and extremely unnatural green.

In unison, the ends of steel poleaxes were slammed into the ground and then crossed, blocking their entrance.

Laila clicked her tongue against her teeth and her horse walked her closer to the guards. “We’ve brought the future queen to see your mistresses,” she announced.

The guards didn’t answer, but Keeley didn’t even know if they could answer.

Laila dismounted and handed the reins to a terrified-looking Samuel. She glanced around at the horses and, without warning, the animals all moved back or simply away.

With a toss of her blond and brown hair, Laila shifted into her centaur form. Once the antlers appeared at the top of her head, she pawed the ground with one hoof, leaned forward a bit, and roared in the faces of the guards.

Still the guards didn’t answer, but they did move. Quickly. Pulling back their poleaxes and stepping aside.

* * *

It had been a few years since Caid had been inside the mountain fortress of the Witches of Amhuinn. But nothing had changed. He knew that as soon as they walked into the main stone hall with their horses, and a young witch quickly approached with a scroll clipped to a piece of flat, polished wood gripped in one hand and a quill in the other.

“Yes?” she asked, gazing at them over the half spectacles she wore.

Laila, not bothering to shift back to her human form, gave a short bow of her head before she said, “I am Laila of the Scarred Earth Clan and Only Daughter of the Clan Chief. As requested by the Witch Queen, I have brought Beatrix of the Farm—”

“Actually,” Keeley interrupted, “it’s Beatrix Smythe.”

“No, it’s not,” Gemma debated. “It’s Farmerson.”

“In our family, we take our mother’s name.”

“Only if you plan to be a blacksmith, and I think we all know that Beatrix has no intention of doing that.”

“You go by Smythe and you’re not a blacksmith.”

“I can make a sword and I know the Old Songs.”

“Ooooh,” Keeley mocked, wiggling her fingers. “You know the Old Songs. I’m so impressed.”

Beatrix, still sitting sidesaddle on her horse, snapped her fingers in the direction of her sisters. The sound startled both women into silence but their expressions told Caid much. While Keeley looked moderately impressed, Gemma appeared ready to snatch her younger sister off her horse by her hair and beat her soundly.

“Beatrix of the Farm is just fine,” Beatrix announced.

The witch nodded and quickly scanned the scroll she had in her hands. Then she dipped her quill into the pot attached to the piece of wood and checked something off on it.

“Now, please, leave your horses here.” She motioned to a young man nearby. “He’ll take your horses to the stables inside our fortress and—”

When the man tried to take the reins of the gray mare, the horse reared and backed up.

“Sorry,” Keeley apologized. “She stays with me.”

“Fine,” the witch replied crisply before adding, “Take the others.” She looked everyone over. “You may keep your weapons. Caid of the Scarred Earth Clan, feel free to be yourself.”

For some unknown reason, that offer had Keeley turning to him with a giant, happy smile on her face and her eyes wide. Kind of like a happily startled farm dog. She looked so ridiculous, he had no option but to chuckle and tell the witch, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Excellent. Right this way,” she said, before turning on her heel and moving off.

“You don’t want to be yourself?” Keeley whispered to him.

Caid placed his hand against her back and gently pushed her ahead, ignoring her giggles. As he started to follow, his sister grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Leaning down, she asked, “What is going on with you two?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re doing that thing again. With your face.”

“What thing?”

“Some might call it a smile. I, however, just wonder if you’re having some kind of fit.”

Caid yanked his arm away from Laila. “Can we just get this bloody thing over with?”

The witch led them out of the main hall and into another large part of the fortress. The library. The three sisters stopped and stared in wonder at all the books. This was only one of the libraries that the fortress boasted. There were at least five more, with three new ones currently being built deeper into the mountain.

“All these books,” Keeley breathed out. “I could spend years here.”

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Beatrix asked. “What knowledge these witches hold?”

“Think they’ll let us spend some time in here before we go?” Keeley asked.

The young witch tossed “No” over her shoulder as she continued on through the library.

Keeley’s smile faded. “That was just rude,” she muttered to Caid.

“I know, but these books are ancient and powerful. The witches are wise not to let just anyone read them.”

“I’m not just anyone. I’m Keeley Smythe, best blacksmith in the Hill Lands.”

“I . . . am not sure that will impress them.”

“Typical. No one thinks they need a blacksmith . . . until they do. Then we are the most important thing anyone can think of.”

He loved how indignant she was. Because Caid had never known anyone who loved their job as much as Keeley. As if she had no doubt whatsoever that she was doing exactly what she should be doing, and what she was doing was good and right. He didn’t know many humans who lived that confidently in their own skin.

Caid had to admit . . . the longer he knew Keeley, the more he liked her. But that wasn’t unusual. He liked lots of people.

Oh. Wait. No, he didn’t.

* * *

“A War Monk?” The Witch Queen blinked at Gemma, her eyes appearing larger because of the thick spectacles she wore. “Are we letting in War Monks now?”

“She’s the sister of Beatrix of the Farm, my queen.”

“Well . . . all right. But no killing anyone so you can raise them later.”

“Not all War Monks do that,” Gemma reminded the witch.