Caid walked on the left side of Keeley’s pallet, hyperaware of any strange sounds or changes in bird flight patterns. Anything that was out of the ordinary. Because at this point in their journey, there was no cover. There were no trees to hide their progress or tunnels to escape through. They were out in the open until they hit Amichai territory.

As they moved along, though, he kept expecting Keeley to wake up. Kept expecting her to raise her arm to shield her eyes from the two suns. Or simply ask where she was or where her family was. Maybe ask for some water. Anything that would tell him she was getting better. Anything that would tell him she would live.

But when they finally stepped onto Amichai soil, there was still nothing from Keeley. No sign that would give him hope.

A situation that made him sad for many reasons, but especially because he would have loved for her to see that which so few humans had seen. Her father being one of those few.

Many believed that the Amichais lived on the mountains, but that was wrong. The Amichai Mountain range actually encircled hundreds of thousands of leagues, land ranging from vast forest to open plains to hill-riddled grasslands. There were lakes and rivers throughout that ensured clean water and a good supply of prey animals for food.

The importance and beauty of these lands was why the dwarves, elves, and centaurs worked so hard to keep them closed off from most humans. Between humans’ constant need for war and their insistence on destroying all they touched so they could “rebuild,” the Amichais knew it would take little time for mankind to destroy all they loved.

But Keeley was different. She would love it here and Caid knew—in his hard, spiteful heart—she would take it upon herself to protect the creatures of this land as she protected the wild horses near her home and a boy stranger she’d never met before.

Just seeing her expression as they stood on the ridge that led down into the centaur valleys would have made his bleak day shine.

Sadly, she didn’t wake in time to see or comment on any of that.

She also had nothing to say when Caid’s hooves touched centaur tribal lands and their travel party was immediately greeted by armed centaurs drawing down on them with their bows and nocked arrows.

If it had been Caid’s clan, he wouldn’t have been too concerned. Unfortunately, it was the Clan of the Red Rivers. Another protector clan like the Scarred Earth, except these centaurs were a smaller breed and instead of antlers, they had curled horns. Although smaller than Caid’s people, they were still extremely dangerous and often thought that Scarred Earth didn’t do enough to protect the tribal lands—like kill any human on sight. Even before interlopers reached the mountain range.

Even worse, this battle unit was being led by the young son of the clan’s leader. Diarmad constantly expressed his belief that his father should be the chieftain, ruler of all the centaur clans.

Of course, for that to happen, Caid’s mother would have to step down. She had no intention of doing that, and the other chief leaders wanted her to stay in power. So, Diarmad and his kin did what they could to cause problems. Something Caid and Laila usually tolerated in order to keep the peace. But this was the wrong moment to point arrows at Caid’s sister.

And that wasn’t because Caid was, to say the least, a little tense these days.

“Diarmad,” Laila called out to the centaur male she used to beat up when they were yearlings.

“Laila. Happy to see that you and your brother have returned. Alive.”

Yes. Of course he was. “Thank you. Now if you’ll just—”

Diarmad held up his hand, then used his forefinger to point. “What is that?” he asked.

Laila glanced in the direction he pointed and found the burning eyes of Keeley’s demon wolves staring back at her.

“Pets,” his sister replied, forcing Caid to briefly lower his head to stop himself from laughing.

“And that?”

Now Laila didn’t look, simply answered, “That’s my friend Gemma.”

“You’re friends with a human War Monk?”

“Someone has to be. All that piety makes a being lonely.”

“Laila, you know I can’t allow any of these . . . things in our camp.”

“You can and you will because they are part of the queen’s entourage.”

“The queen? Last we heard the queen was with Prince Marius.”

“The Witches of Amhuinn confirmed two queens. The one we do not want is with Marius. The one we definitely want is here and she needs a healer.”

Smirking, Diarmad began, “You’ll have to wait here until I—”

“No, no.” Laila moved until she stood right in front of Diarmad. She towered over him and her swishing tail told Caid she was quickly losing her patience. “I’m not playing this game with you. The queen needs a healer and my friends need food and water. I will not let you waste our time with your bullshit. So fucking move.”

Caid looked toward his sister, saw that Diarmad’s team had all their bows now aimed at her. Not wise. Not wise at all.

Not because of Laila. Not even because of Caid. Neither of them had any doubt that Diarmad would never risk his life or the lives of his clan by killing either of them. Instead, he was doing what their kind sometimes did. Starting shit to prove how strong and in control he was, even though he’d be thoughtful and rational when he backed down.

But he was so busy doing all that, he wasn’t really paying attention to what was moving up behind him and his oblivious battle unit.

Light gold eyes locked on Diarmad through white and blond hair. Taller than Caid and equally wide, Caid’s brother Quinn broke into a run at the last minute, a sword in his hand. He leaped up, all his legs off the ground, the sword now over his head, both hands on the hilt. And with a roar of anger, he brought that weapon down on Diarmad’s hind quarter.

Laila took several steps back; Caid and the rest of their party moved in turn like one well-trained military unit.

Diarmad fell to his front right knee, letting out his own roar that had birds scattering from the nearby trees and rocks. He tried to crawl away, but Quinn wasn’t done. He was never done. Not until he’d made his point.

Pulling back his arm, fist cocked, Quinn rammed it forward and into the wound he’d opened upon Diarmad.

Laila’s entire body cringed at the action, because both of them knew Quinn was wrapping his fingers around Diarmad’s femur . . . and tugging.

“Stop it, Quinn,” Laila finally barked over Diarmad’s desperate screams; his Red River kin were becoming restless and angry.

“Not until he understands,” Quinn said, his voice disturbingly calm. “Because no one aims arrows at my sister. I should tear this leg off just for that alone.” Then he tugged again.

“Quinn!” Laila bellowed when Diarmad screamed out once more.

Quinn leaned in and softly said against Diarmad’s ear, “You’re so lucky my sister is kind and forgiving. But keep in mind, dear Diarmad . . . that I am not!” he finished on a chilling bellow.

He yanked his hand out, blood splattering. “Take him to the healers. But not Petra”—the strongest healer in the camp—“Laila needs her for her friend.”

Diarmad’s fellow centaurs helped him back to their camp and Quinn pulled their sister into a big hug, his blood-covered hand leaving prints on the back of her chainmail shirt.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“You have to stop doing that to our people,” she admonished him. “It’s grotesque.”

“It gets my point across. And quickly too. Most importantly, no one threatens one of us without repercussions. You know that.”

When Quinn saw that Diarmad and his unit were gone, he looked at the rest of them and asked, “A human War Monk and demon dogs?”

“Wolves,” Caid corrected.

“What the fuck are you doing, Laila? Why are you trying to bring crazy into the camp?” Quinn grinned. “Thought that was my job.”

* * *

Gemma was ready to throw her sister over her shoulder and make a desperate run for it. She’d been fooled by the calm and easy ways of Laila and her brother. But like all beings, human or otherwise, there were many different kinds in any group. Obviously, the centaurs were as dangerous as everyone else. Her father had been a fan, but Gemma wasn’t so sure.

Especially when Laila’s eldest brother—Quinn, she’d called him—walked down the line of their retinue. He barely glanced at his brother, muttering “asshole” under his breath.

Caid muttered back, “Fucker.” But that was about it.

Quinn looked down at the demon wolves growling at him, their bodies tense and trembling with the unspent need to rip the centaur’s throat out.

“And why are these things here?” he asked Laila.

“They’re friends of the queen.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel confident in some way?”

“Don’t care if it does, Brother. They’re coming with us.”

Quinn sighed dramatically and continued to move around the group. He reached the end of the first line, stood at the foot of Keeley’s pallet, and gazed down at her prone form.

“Gods, look at those shoulders.”

“She’s a blacksmith,” Caid said.

“A woman blacksmith. How progressive for the humans.”

He moved on, reaching Keran. Stopped. Stared. “Keran the Unforgiving . . . yes?”

Keran’s grin was wide. It wasn’t every day that someone remembered her fight name.

“It is.”

“I lost a thousand pieces of gold because of you.”

“Foolish to bet against me.”

“I know that now.”

Quinn passed Samuel, barely glanced at him. “A virgin trainee monk. How odd.”

He stopped next to Gemma and said to his sister, “A War Monk. You really brought a War Monk into our territories. Father’s going to love that.”

“She’s the queen’s sister.”