All these years, Caid had assumed his father’s decision to help the human soldier had been a calculated one. Hearn knew that Gaira had a soft spot for all living things, including humans and, in his own way, he had loved Gaira for a very long time. Caid didn’t actually approve of such a calculating move, but he understood it. And he was grateful that Laila was his sister, if nothing else.

But now, watching his father as he had to deal with one of the soldier’s grateful offspring, Caid realized his original belief might have been wrong. Very wrong.

“How is your father?” Hearn asked Keeley.

“Fine, I hope. I had to leave him and the family at my uncle Archie’s.”

“Crazy Archie?” He smirked. “You sure that was wise?”

“We were out of choices, but I made him promise to behave himself.”

“Especially with your mother.”

“Yes! Still clinging, he is.”

“Your father’s love of the Blacksmith Maiden is legendary. He’ll give her up to no one, but especially not his brother.”

“The Blacksmith Maiden?”

“That’s what your father called her. He kept telling me he needed to get back to his Blacksmith Maiden. Even when he was suffering the worst fever from his wounds, he talked about her. He already had plans for his farm and the raising of his . . . three children, I think.”

Keeley laughed. “Three?”

“She’s had ten thousand,” Caid said.

“She has not had ten thousand,” Keeley quickly corrected. “There are twelve of us.”

“With another nine thousand on the way.”

Keeley dismissed Caid with a flick of her hand that almost hit him in the nose.

“Now,” Keeley began, “I wanted to give you this.” She pulled a beautiful battle dagger from the sheath attached to the belt around her waist.

“That’s not nec—”

“I know.” She placed the weapon in his hand. “But my mother would want you to have this. To thank you.”

She hugged Hearn again and, to Caid’s eternal shock, Hearn hugged her back.

Keeley pulled away first, walking back to camp before Hearn could see the tears in her eyes. Caid started to follow, but his father yanked him back by his hair.

“Ow! I wish you wouldn’t do that!” Caid snapped.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” his father told him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Keep your kilt down and forelimbs on the ground. Understand me?”

“Sadly, yes,” Caid sighed as he moved away from his father so the mean bastard couldn’t grab Caid’s hair again.

* * *

Hearn watched his son and the future queen walk back into camp. When they disappeared behind tents, he looked down at the blade he held in his hands. He was amazed at the workmanship. It was not the work of some average blacksmith one could find in any town, but of someone with real love in their heart for the art of it.

He remembered the sword the young soldier had possessed. It had been forged by the soldier’s “Blacksmith Maiden.” Hearn still had it and often used it when necessary. He and the young soldier had exchanged swords before Angus had headed out of the mountains and back to his battalion. Hearn had become friends with that young soldier, despite their being so different in every way. And, unbeknownst to many, they’d kept in contact over the decades. Sending each other books and letters. Keeley Smythe was exactly as her father had described her. Beautiful, bold, and caring. She looked more like her mum, based on the way Hearn’s friend had described the Blacksmith Maiden, but his War Monk daughter resembled him. Especially around the eyes.

Hearn had to admit, he’d been worrying about his old friends since Laila and the others had arrived with Keeley. He doubted that Angus knew what had happened to his eldest daughter and what his middle child had done. The betrayal. And the true danger he and his entire family were currently in. Angus wanted to believe the best of everyone but that’s what had nearly got him killed all those years ago.

“Are you all right?” his mate asked, nuzzling the back of his neck.

“I . . . I think I need to take a platoon of our best and go get my friend. Take him and his family someplace truly safe. Here. Among us.”

She put her arms around his neck and rested her head against his jaw. “You’ll hear about it,” she warned. “From the other tribal chiefs.”

Gaira ruled over all the clans—especially during times of strife—which was why she had the title Chieftain. But each centaur clan had its own chief and each of those leaders had a say in how day-to-day things worked.

“Until he talks with Keeley, Angus will never know the real danger he and his family are in. But we can’t wait for her to go get him. We need to move now. And she needs her allies.”

She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re right. That woman loves her kin. If something happens to them . . . it may break her. We can’t afford that right now.”

Gaira took the blade from his hand, nodding in appreciation at its quality. “Take what you need. Kill our enemies. Come back to me.”

He nodded at her orders before kissing her throat.

“As you command,” he murmured against her skin.

CHAPTER 19

Keeley woke up, buried under fur, with a centaur standing over her, glaring.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Caid didn’t answer, just waited for her to realize that she was in bed with two of the demon wolves.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she argued, trying to sit up, but neither animal seemed to be in the mood to move yet.

“Uh-huh.”

“It was cold last night and the fur covering wasn’t doing much.” She pushed against the wolves again. But when they still didn’t move, she ordered, “Off! Now!”

They scrambled from the bed and Keeley quickly slipped out as well.

“Notice they were on top of the fur covering . . . just keeping me warm. Like good friends.”

“This is a disturbing conversation,” Caid said. “I’m walking away now.”

And he did.

“We’re almost ready to go, Your Majesty,” he sarcastically tossed at her before walking out.

“You almost got me in trouble!” she whisper-yelled at the wolves. “Not everyone understands our relationship!”

The wolves responded by rolling around on their backs or digging into her travel bag for something to eat or playing tug with one of her leather sheaths.

Keeley found a new set of clothes waiting for her, but they were just like her old clothes. A sleeveless leather tunic, leather leggings, and leather boots. There were also bindings for her ample breasts, short braies, and warm socks. Under all that was a leather breastplate with matching pauldrons.

Creating leather armor wasn’t her strength as much as chainmail and plate armor, but Keeley knew good work when she saw it. Especially when she held it.

Grinning, she put everything on and took a quick look in the mirror. What she loved? More than anything? Her crest. A black hammer and anvil burned into the brown leather.

Love, love, love!

Slipping her hammer into a leather holster that allowed her to strap it to her back for travel, she headed outside and was delighted to see the gray mare waiting for her. Keeley had assumed that the horse would stay with the herd she’d been running with last night, but no. She still wanted her revenge and Keeley was fine with that. She wanted her revenge too.

Keeley saddled up the mare and took the additional travel bags handed to her by helpful centaurs. Bags filled with bread, hard cheese, and dried meats. As well as containers for water and another for ale.

“Morning,” Gemma grumbled as she watched Samuel saddle up her stallion.

“Sister.”

Laila and Caid, in their natural forms, arrived with their mother.

“Such a beautiful day!” Gaira cheered, reaching down and patting Keeley’s shoulder.

“Thank you for the armor and holster for my hammer. I adore them all!”

“They look very good on you. We took a chance on the crest. Figured you could change it when you’re ready.”

“Why would I change it?” she asked. “It’s perfect!”

Gaira faced her children. “Be careful. And take care of each other.” She kissed each on their cheeks and was about to move away when she saw something behind Keeley and her eyes grew wide.

Keeley turned and immediately reached over her shoulder for the handle of her hammer, watching Quinn stalk toward her as human, pulling his long sword as he did.

Without saying a word, Gemma stepped in front of Keeley, her own two short swords out. Laila and Caid moved quickly toward their brother, but before they could reach him, he abruptly dropped to one knee and slammed the tip of his sword into the ground.

“Oy!” Keeley barked, cringing. “That’s no way to treat such a fine weapon! And when will I be near a hot enough fire so I can fix it for ya? Eh? Tell me that!”

“Is that really your main concern here?” Gemma asked, her tone typically annoyed.

“I pledge my sword to you, Blacksmith Queen,” Quinn announced loudly. The statement had Keeley’s and Gemma’s heads snapping around to gaze down at him.

“You do?” Keeley asked Quinn.

“You do?” Laila also asked.

“I do!”

“Why?” Caid coldly questioned his brother.

Gaira pushed Caid away and lifted her eldest son’s chin with her hand. “Quinn, are you sure about this?”

“I don’t do anything I’m not sure about. And I’m sure about this.”

“Well, I won’t stop you . . .”

Quinn stood tall; then, with a slight shake of his head, he stood even taller as he shifted. He put his blade back into the sheath strapped across his back.

He kissed his mother.

“Safe travels,” she said to them all.