“Witch Queen,” Delora snapped.

“True.” The sitting Witch Queen smirked. “Sadly, she had one great weakness. She insisted on mating with stupid men. Not the Warlocks of Godomor. Not the Monks of Spikenhammer library. Not even the War Monks . . . no offense.”

“A little offense taken,” Gemma admitted.

“I mean, at least you lot have enough knowledge to raise the dead. That’s impressive. Disgusting but impressive. But Delora’s mother . . .”

“Beware what you say, crone,” Delora hissed.

“She kept. Fucking. Idiots. For years she only bred boys and we just sent them away. The smarter ones went to the Warlocks of Godomor and the stupider ones, we didn’t care. But then she had Delora,” she said on another long, painful sigh. “As per our laws, we had to keep her. So sad. While our other legacies soared in every subject, for dear, sweet Delora, schooling was nothing but a struggle. Math . . . a struggle. Science . . . a painful struggle. Basic logic . . . nothing! Then, one day, she announced that she had been blessed by the gods and was a seer.”

“Were her predictions right?” Laila asked.

“Mostly. From what we could tell.”

“How did you manage that, I wonder?” Gemma asked, pulling Delora in tighter and pressing her jaw against the top of the witch’s head.

Then . . . slowly . . . Gemma’s expression began to change as realization dawned.

“Were all her predictions . . . royalty based?” the War Monk asked.

The Witch Queen gazed at Gemma for a very long moment before she finally said, “As a matter of fact . . . yes. Yes, they were. Something that the other royals and the Old King truly appreciated.”

Gemma began to laugh and Delora yanked herself away.

“Keeley was always right about her,” Gemma said amidst her laughter. “Beatrix is fucking brilliant.” She put her hands to her head. “She planned all of this!”

“You don’t know that, Gemma,” Keran argued.

“I do know that. I feel it. Not using premonition, either. Just logic. It’s what she’s always wanted.”

“To be queen?”

“To be in power. And she used you two idiots”—Gemma pointed at Delora—“you and the Dowager Queen to get it. And you let her!” she finished on a laugh.

“No offense to you and your family,” the Witch Queen kindly noted, “but none of you have royal blood. We checked both your lines when Delora made her prediction and there’s”—she shrugged—“nothing.”

“Beatrix promised Maila something. And Maila, in turn, promised her something.”

They all focused on Delora and the Witch Queen smiled. “My job. She promised her my job.”

“I should be Witch Queen,” Delora insisted, which got nothing but brutal laughter from her witch sisters.

“But why kill Keeley?” Laila asked over the laughter. “I mean, your sister lives, Gemma, but that was clearly not the plan.”

“I don’t know. To prove Beatrix’s loyalty to Prince Marius?” Gemma studied Delora. “They’d consider Keeley a threat if they thought she might become queen and push the current royal family out. Especially if Beatrix promised she would never do that herself.”

Now they were all studying Delora and saw the panic on her face. The fear. Then, her expression changed. False bravado spread around her like a blanket, and her grin was wide as she looked straight into Gemma’s eyes.

That’s when Gemma told the Witch Queen, “Gods, you’re absolutely right. The bitch has absolutely no logic.”

“None.” The queen tossed up her hands in defeat. “I can forgive a lack of skill with science or math, but ye gads, the lowest animals have common sense. Crows have logic. Rats. But you,” she said to Delora, “nothing but empty space.”

“What are you talking about?” Delora demanded.

Gemma shook her head. “Do you really think my sister will put you on this throne?”

“Especially when she doesn’t plan for there to be any throne,” the queen tossed in.

“What do you mean?”

Leaning forward in her seat, the Witch Queen growled at Delora, “She needs you dead, stupid girl. She needs all of us dead.”

“She can’t risk the truth getting out.”

“I would never tell,” she whispered. “I promised Maila I would never tell.”

“But you’d always know, ya dumb cow!” Keran practically cheered.

“And you’d be able to hold it over her,” Gemma reminded her, “as long as you live.”

“And that, Sister, is something that a future queen cannot have.”

Delora began to debate, attempting to convince herself, Laila assumed, but Gemma’s head lifted and she held up a finger to quiet everyone. Her gaze moved to the high ceiling of the throne room. Everyone fell silent . . . waiting.

Laila’s sensitive ears heard it soon after. The whistling. And she was running back to her brother when Gemma screamed out, “Move!”

* * *

The first fireballs crashed through the ceiling, turning everything around them into flame and destruction.

Gemma pulled a few witches out of the way and stomped out the burning gown of another.

“Go!” she yelled at Samuel. “Get to my sister! Take Keran with you!”

She ran to the throne, but the Witch Queen was already moving, with several of her assistants beside her.

“You know what to do,” the Witch Queen ordered. “Don’t delay. The doorway will only be open for five minutes.”

Gemma grabbed the Witch Queen’s arm and pulled her around. “Come with us! We’ll protect you!”

The queen laughed and pressed her hand against Gemma’s cheek. “You are not what I expected, War Monk. But you need not worry for us. We are leaving this place until all things are settled.”

“This world?”

The Witch Queen’s confused frown embarrassed Gemma even as the fire around her spread.

“No, woman. We are going to the Northlands. Far away from here. Witches there will protect us and our books and papers until we can come back. They are warriors, a lot like you. We’ll be safe with them.” A large book was pushed into the queen’s arms. “I must flee, Monk. But there is something you must remember. Keeley isn’t dead. And we will not be here to agree or disagree about who was named queen.”

“Delora was just lying about Keeley.”

“She was lying about Beatrix as well.” The queen reached up and placed her hand on Gemma’s shoulder. “I’m guessing your sister is using Marius’s forces to attack our fortress. A fortress that has stood here for more than four thousand years without incident. Beatrix is a dangerous woman. She will take down anyone who gets in her way. But your sister Keeley . . .”

“Is just a blacksmith.”

“Don’t underestimate her. You’ve already made that mistake with Beatrix. And see where we are now?”

“The door is open, my queen!” a voice yelled from one of the nearby tunnels, while the sounds of wind battered the walls as fireballs battered the building. “Please! Come!”

“Good luck to you, War Monk.”

“And to you, Witch Queen.”

Delora attempted to push by the queen, trying to run down the hall where the doorway had been opened. But the Witch Queen caught the bitch by the collar of her dress and yanked Delora back, tossing her to the ground.

“Where do you think you’re going, traitor?” the queen asked.

“You can’t leave me!”

“You can die here with your collaborators,” she tossed over her shoulder, waving as she walked off.

“Noooo!” Delora cried out. She scrambled to her feet and again tried to enter the tunnel. But Gemma wasn’t about to let that happen.

She grabbed Delora by her hair and yanked her around. With a quick swipe of her eating dagger, she slit the witch’s throat from ear to ear.

Gagging, Delora dropped to her knees, her hands around her throat, attempting to stanch the blood. But within seconds, she was facedown on the floor and unmoving.

Gemma pressed her hand against the witch’s back and chanted the song of death.

The corpse stood again and Gemma pointed at the doorway. “Go. Kill the enemy,” she said, knowing the bitch wouldn’t make it far. But she still deserved this end.

Gemma rushed back to the healing chambers, but by the time she arrived, her unconscious sister was already on a pallet and the pallet was attached to a work harness that Caid and Laila had somehow gotten on the wild horse. The demon wolves surrounded the horse and Keeley.

“Where are we going?” Gemma asked, moving past her cousin, Samuel, and the horse, so that she’d be ahead of them all.

“Amichai lands,” Laila replied. “We’re not that far.”

“All right. Stay behind me. Be ready for anything. Kill anyone who gets in our way.”

“Or,” Laila quickly suggested, “we can try to survive this by sneaking out a back way that I know.”

Gemma shrugged. “If you insist on going with logic . . .”

Smirking, Laila took the lead. With a dramatic shake of her fine mass of hair, she shifted to centaur. The tips of her antlers nearly touched the stone ceiling. They were not as big as her brother’s . . . but they still made a dramatic statement.

Gemma pulled out her two short swords and adjusted her shoulders, ready for battle.

“Wait!” Keran abruptly called out as she ran back into the healing chamber.

“We need to move, Cousin!”

Keran returned but she now held Keeley’s hammer.

“She’d have killed us all if we’d left this behind,” she said with a smile.

And her cousin had a point.

CHAPTER 15

The journey was long, but Caid barely noticed. He ate, but only when his sister put food in his hand. He slept, but like a prey animal. More awake than asleep, waiting for an attack at any time.