“And she loathes Beatrix with all her heart. That rage and hatred blinds her in a way it does not blind you. It also matters that you weren’t gone for over a decade. You probably know Beatrix better than anyone else. Can guess what her next move will be. Figure out where she’ll strike next.”

“That’s easy enough,” Keeley replied without really thinking. “She’ll want to lock down the security of the royal palace and surrounding lands, and then she’s going to focus on Marius’s brothers . . . and why are you staring at me like that?” she abruptly asked.

“Do I actually have to say? Or can you figure it out on your own?”

She rubbed her forehead. “What if despite all this vast knowledge of Beatrix, I still fail?”

“We all die.”

Eyes wide, Keeley turned her head to look at the Amichai. He gazed back . . . blankly.

“You are such a rude bastard!” she said on a laugh, bumping him with her elbow.

“You were clearly waiting for me to say something like that,” he actually laughed with her, “and I hate disappointing you.”

Exhausted but not in the mood to sleep yet, Keeley rested her head against his shoulder. They sat like that for a long time, neither saying anything. Caid just allowing her time to make up her own mind. But Keeley knew that he was right. She really didn’t have a choice. Whatever happened from here on out would be her sister’s . . . no, not her sister. Beatrix. It would Beatrix’s doing.

“I’ll do it,” she finally said.

“I know. And I will be with you while you do.”

Keeley shook her head and sat up. “No. You and your sister have done enough for—”

“Don’t even bother to argue with me. It’ll be useless. Because we both know that I’ll only do what I want and so will my sister. She’s infamous around here for doing what she wants.”

“Look at that . . . my queenly orders are already being ignored.”

“They are, but for good reason. You’ll need us by your side when you meet with each group. They are not friendly to strangers. Especially human ones.”

“Who will be the hardest to deal with?” she asked, getting to her feet, Caid right beside her.

“The barbarian tribes. Definitely.”

“I thought maybe I’d start with the dwarves first but now I think the barbarians should be first.”

“No,” Caid said with gruff determination. “We will not start with them.”

“I like to get the hardest thing out of the way.”

“And that’s excellent logic when one is creating a great sword. Not when you’re attempting your first alliance. For your first alliance, you should definitely start with the dwarves. But, and I mean this sincerely, Keeley, I’d stay away from discussing your being a blacksmith.”

Keeley gasped. She couldn’t help it! “Why wouldn’t I discuss that? I love discussing that!”

“They’re dwarves. You can’t compete with dwarves.”

“I don’t plan to compete with them. But we’re fellow blacksmiths. We should be learning from each other. Discussing the wonders of steel and iron!”

“I can’t express to you how badly that’s going to work with the dwarves. Trust me on this, Keeley. You go to them as a human queen looking for an alliance because your sister is a worse choice. That’s it. That’s the card you play.”

“But if they like me—”

“No. I can’t say that strongly enough. Just no.”

* * *

Caid could tell by Keeley’s expression she wanted to argue, but he also knew that would be a bad idea. The dwarves, like most of the mountain races, were not to be challenged. And the dwarves took their blacksmithing so seriously, they would only see Keeley as another pathetic human who thought she was a decent blacksmith. And it didn’t help how perky she was. Dwarves weren’t naturally perky.

“Trust me,” he practically begged. “Please.”

She took a moment, staring at the ground. Then she looked directly at him and said, “I will do my best to follow your counsel.”

Caid frowned. “Huh?”

“I’m trying to sound like a queen here.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

She hissed at him a little, which he found a bit off-putting, and walked to her bed. She sat down on it and Caid, assuming they were done, headed toward the tent flap.

“Wait,” she called out.

Caid stopped, faced her. “Something else?”

“There’s something I’d like to do before I get some sleep. If you don’t mind.”

“You want me for sex?”

Keeley’s eyes grew wider than Caid had ever seen. “Pardon?”

“Isn’t that what you want? Human women always seem to want to have sex with centaurs.”

“Actually . . . I was . . . um . . . hoping to meet your father? Not to have sex with him, though,” she quickly added. “Or you. No offense.”

“No. I’m sorry.” Caid moved a little closer. “The few humans I’ve met who know what we are usually want to have sex with us.”

“Even the men?” she asked, appearing confused. “They want to have sex with female centaurs?” Caid was about to get insulted for the females of his race when Keeley added, “I mean . . . don’t they feel insecure? There’s no way they could possibly live up to what I’ve seen trotting around your camps.”

Caid turned away, attempting to stop his laughter by rubbing his nose with his fist.

“Come on,” he choked out. “I’ll take you to my father.”

* * *

Keeley followed Caid through the camps. It was easy to tell the difference between the more peace-loving centaurs and the ones who were bred to be warriors. The soldier centaurs had antlers or horns and lots of scars from past battles. They were always strapped with weapons and their eyes were the eyes of predators, not prey.

But they lived easily among their kin because they didn’t use their power and strength against their own. Instead, they were there to put the others at ease. To make everyone feel safe. Something that, to Keeley’s mind anyway, was what power was for. To protect those who weren’t meant to carry a sword or kill on command. Not everyone had the desire and very few were good at it. So why force them when it wasn’t their skill?

They reached an open field with a herd of horses racing around it. The gray mare was in their midst and the sight made Keeley smile. Seeing the horse doing what she did best. Run free.

Caid put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. One of the horses split off from the herd and raced toward them. As it neared, Keeley realized that it wasn’t a horse; it was a centaur. He hadn’t shifted either. He’d simply blended into the herd, and it wasn’t until he was on his own that one could see what he was.

How he managed to hide those antlers, though . . . ? She’d never know. They were enormous. Bigger than Caid’s. They must get bigger the older a centaur lives, Keeley thought, which she found fascinating.

He came to a stop in front of Caid and Keeley.

“Father, this is Queen Keeley of the Hill Lands.”

Keeley blinked, shocked to hear herself given such a title.

“Keeley, this is my father, Hearn, chief of our clan.”

Hearn nodded at her but that was all.

But when Keeley didn’t say anything—she was still staring at his antlers. Did he sleep with those? Were they uncomfortable to sleep in? Did he hit low-hanging things often with those things?—Caid said, “Keeley would like to speak with you, Father.”

With a scowl as fierce as his son’s, Hearn looked down at Keeley. “Yes?” he asked, sounding mostly annoyed.

Keeley cleared her throat and began, “Many years ago, you saved a young soldier you found in the lower mountains. That young soldier was my father and I just wanted to say thank you.”

Then Keeley did what her father had always told her to do if she was ever lucky enough to meet the centaur who’d saved his life . . . she wrapped her arms around his lower waist—the last bit of him that was humanlike when he was in his natural form—and hugged him.

* * *

Caid watched his father’s confused expression turn downright panicked; his hands flailed a bit as he tried to figure out where to put them. Caid could almost guess the stallion’s questions: Should he hug her back? Should he push her away? Should he wipe her from the face of the earth?

So many questions right there on his father’s face.

Caid’s father usually knew exactly what to do in any given situation. That’s how he’d lived as long as he had. By being smart and determined. But Keeley had a way of confusing even the most confident of males.

“Uh . . . uh . . . you’re welcome . . . ?”

Oh, good. He’d settled on not wiping her from the face of the earth. Caid was sure that had been hard for his father to go with.

Smiling, Keeley stepped back. “My father also wanted me to send his best. He’s never forgotten what you did for him.”

What happened that day, so many seasons ago, was not something their father discussed much. The other protector clans had thought it was stupid for Hearn to bring a human to their camp and have him nursed back to health. A soldier of the Old King, no less. Not some lost child. The clan leaders at the time had all felt the soldier should have been put down where he lay among the rocks he’d fallen into with six human-made arrows still in his neck, chest, and hip. But Hearn hadn’t agreed for some reason. He’d gone against everything he’d been taught and brought the soldier to safety.

The move had secured Hearn’s place in Gaira’s heart, though. He’d already had a son from the future leader of the centaur clans but there had been other stallions sniffing around Gaira, and she had seemed uncertain about claiming Hearn as a long-life mate. That would mean in times of incredible danger, Hearn would lead the centaur and mountain tribe armies into war. She’d worried that the scowling, mostly cranky, snarling male would hunger for war and the death of humans, and Gaira was not one to go to war because she was bored or had an axe to grind.