“Do you?”

Gemma took in a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Then my point is made.”

She moved away from Gemma and over to Beatrix. Held out her hand. “Beatrix of the Farm. I am the Witch Queen.”

Beatrix took the witch’s hand but she held it so loosely—as if she was afraid to touch the other woman—that Gemma had to fight her need to show her sister how one clasps hands in an appropriate greeting.

“Lady,” Beatrix began, “I am happy to—”

“Yes, yes,” the Witch Queen interrupted. “You’re glad to be here and can’t wait to discuss the future of the country, blah blah blah. Can we just bypass all that? We have work to do and I really don’t like to waste time on unnecessary chit-chat.”

The queen returned to her throne, carved directly out of the stone wall, and sat down. She snapped her fingers at one of her assistants and the young witch rushed to her side, holding out a scroll for her mistress to read.

“Call Delora,” the queen told another. “Tell her we’re waiting for her.” She began to read the scroll but still spoke to their travel party. “Delora is our . . . seer,” she sneered, her hands lifted, fingers wiggling. “We’ve never had one before, but times change, or so I’ve been told. And we do like keeping up with modern things.”

The assistant returned to the chamber. “She was sleeping,” she announced with obvious disgust.

“It must be nice to have all the time in the world,” the queen scoffed. “Amazing how busy the rest of us seem to be.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Delora said, coming in from behind the throne through another chamber. She had one hand pressed against her lower back and used the other to rub her eyes. “Didn’t mean to be late.”

Still focused on the scrolls that her assistant put in front of her, the queen pointed at Beatrix. “She’s here to be confirmed as queen.”

“Of course.”

Delora took a few more steps but then stopped, attempted to stretch her spine with both hands on her back.

“Is something wrong?” Keeley asked.

“My back has been screaming the last few weeks. Nothing the healers do is helping.”

“Would you like me to try?”

Gemma winced at her sister’s offer. She knew it was earnestly made, but she saw the witches in the room suddenly focus on her. If their healers hadn’t been able to do anything—they were most likely thinking—how could she?

But it was Beatrix who appeared the most disturbed.

“Maybe Gemma should help instead,” Beatrix quickly offered. “I’m sure War Monks are better equipped to help with that sort of thing.”

“When she gets hit with an arrow or axe,” Gemma replied, “let me know.”

“Aren’t you the blacksmith sister?” the Witch Queen asked.

“Yes!” Keeley said with that oblivious smile of hers. “But I do this sort of thing for horses.”

“Well, if you do it for horses . . .” the queen mocked.

Keeley went to Delora and placed her hands on her back. She moved her fingers down the seer’s spine, her gaze focused across the chamber.

“Keeley—” Beatrix began.

“Just give me a few more secondssss . . .” Keeley stopped at a spot and dug in three of her fingers. Then she went up to the witch’s neck, walked her fingers down her spine until she stopped at a spot between shoulder and neck. She pushed her fingers in again, waited a moment, stepped back.

“How do you feel now?” she asked.

“That’s it?” Delora asked. “That’s all you’re do . . .” She moved her head, then her shoulders, then her ass. She took a few steps. Smiled. “By the gods, I feel fabulous!” She faced Keeley. “Thank you!”

“Welcome.” Keeley shrugged at Beatrix. “See? It didn’t take long at all.”

Keeley went back to Caid’s side and Delora continued to walk around in circles and move her shoulders.

Five, four, three, two—

“Can we just finish this?” Beatrix snapped, fed up that her future as a queen should be held up for even a moment because of someone else’s discomfort.

“Delora,” the Witch Queen barked, “stop shaking your ass and just do this thing already.”

“Calm down. All of you. So emotional.”

Delora stood in front of Beatrix. “Your hands, dear.”

Beatrix placed her hands in Delora’s. Gemma was expecting some moaning and swaying as she’d seen other seers do. But Delora’s technique was much more . . . straightforward. And blunt.

She scrutinized Beatrix’s face for a very long moment. When she finally pulled away, she casually announced, “Yes, Beatrix. You will be queen.”

Gemma watched as a small smile formed at the corner of Beatrix’s mouth, and that’s when Gemma felt a real sense of panic. A real sense that all she’d hoped for was about to—

“Of course,” Delora added, “so will she.” And she pointed at Keeley.

As one, they all looked back at Keeley. Even the witches looked away from their precious scrolls to focus on Gemma’s elder sister. When the silence went on and on, Keeley—who’d been staring at the floor, probably sad at the prospect of losing her younger sister to a life of royal privilege—lifted her head and saw everyone gawking at her. When that went on for more than a second or two, she quickly looked behind her, didn’t see anyone, looked at them all again, then behind her once more. And this look felt more than just confused but desperate. Like she was praying there was someone—anyone—behind her.

Keeley pointed at herself. “You’re not speaking to me.”

“Of course I am.”

The Witch Queen pushed away the scroll in front of her. “The blacksmith? Are you sure?”

Delora scowled. “Are you questioning me?”

“Always.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“But I don’t want to be queen,” Keeley argued. “I want to go back to my shop. I have orders to fill!”

The Witch Queen waved that objection away and added, “Well, that won’t be happening anyway.”

“Why?”

“I guess you haven’t heard. Your shop has been destroyed by the Devourer and all the men who worked there have been killed.”

Her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror, Keeley gawked at the queen.

“They’re all dead?” Gemma asked.

“I believe the younger boys you had working there as apprentices were able to escape. But that’s because the men protected them; they died in the process. The Devourer burned down the entire town, but based on the tally I received of deaths, most of the residents were able to escape.”

Because of her size, it was often easy to forget how fast Keeley could be. Especially when she was angry. And she was angry now.

That’s why, when Keeley was suddenly running toward the Witch Queen, her hammer out, Gemma didn’t even think about stopping her sister. It didn’t even occur to her. It might have occurred to Keran, but she was half-asleep, leaning against a wall. Oblivious as always.

But just as Keeley got close to the throne, Caid swooped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off the ground. He held her and took her back across the chamber.

“You bitch!” Keeley hissed at the Witch Queen. “You talk of people’s deaths and the destruction of their lives as if it’s nothing!”

The Witch Queen stood. “I have done no such thing! I was simply being direct. Explaining how you can’t go back to your old life, no matter how much you may want to.”

Keeley pulled herself out of Caid’s arms but she didn’t advance on the queen again.

“I don’t care if my old life is gone. I will not be queen.”

“Woman, I have no idea if you’re supposed to be queen or not. Delora is our seer. So your decision to be queen may not be your own. It may be the will of the gods.”

“Don’t give me that will of the gods bullshit!”

Laila quickly stepped in front of the Witch Queen. “My lady, is there somewhere our party can talk? In private.”

She gestured to one of her assistants. “Take them to my privy chambers.”

One of the witches motioned to Laila and scurried off to the back. Laila motioned to the rest of them. Gemma had to wake up Keran and push her behind everyone else. She was about to follow until she saw that Beatrix was still standing in front of the queen but her focus was on Delora.

“Beatrix?” Gemma called out. “Are you coming?”

“Of course.” Lifting the skirt of her gown, she swept past Gemma and followed the others to the Witch Queen’s privy chamber.

CHAPTER 10

“I’m going to kill everyone in this place!”

Caid grabbed the hammer that Keeley was swinging around and, for a few brief—but terrifying—seconds, they played tug-of-war with the damn thing until he was finally able to get it away from her.

“You need to calm down!”

“What if it’s true? What if the town’s been burned to the ground? What if it’s our fault?”

“Our fault?” Gemma asked. “Don’t you mean her fault?” She pointed at Beatrix. “She who would be queen?”

“How can you blame her? She knew nothing about any of this.”

“How do you know?” Gemma demanded. “You don’t know what she’s been up to!”

“You sound ridiculous!”

“Our entire town is destroyed and, once again, you’re only worried about poor Beatrix!”

“Our town? Bitch, you haven’t even been here in more than a decade!”

Gemma pushed past a now-human Laila so she could scream right in her sister’s face. “Are you going to keep throwing that at me? It’s still my town! I still care!”