Keeley mounted her horse and walked it over to Quinn. “Why have you committed your sword to me?”

“If I want to be leader of the Scarred Earth Clan one day, I need to have more battle experience. And you seem like a mad cow that’ll get us into a war faster than your demon wolves can take down a wild boar and eat it. Add in that you have a War Monk sister at your side who is absolutely chewing at the bit to sink her sword into something warm and blood-filled, and I can’t ask for a better way to secure my future. Can you?”

He winked and moved away from her, heading out of the camp.

“What did my brother say to you?” Caid asked, stepping in next to her.

“Oh . . . nothing.” She glanced over at him. “Do you think I’m a mad cow?”

“Well . . .” Caid began, but Keeley immediately waved away his answer.

“Forget I asked.”

Their group started off, now filled out with another unit of centaur warriors keeping them company. But they’d only gotten a few feet before Keeley called a halt and yelled out, “Keran! Gods-dammit, wake up!”

* * *

It took Beatrix little time to realize something very important. Her husband could barely read. She’d discovered that when the Dowager Queen’s Follower of Her Word—his true name was Agathon—handed Marius a parchment with the words he was to speak during the nuptials. His reaction was so violent and angry that she knew immediately he could read but a few words.

It should have appalled her. A king’s son who couldn’t read? But it was beyond perfection. She had closely and silently watched as Marius’s mother quickly jumped in. Not only to protect the Follower of Her Word from getting beaten to death by her son, but also to hide her son’s lack of basic capabilities.

Maila taught her son the words by reading them to him . . . twice. Under the guise that he didn’t like how it sounded the first time around, so he wanted to “hear the words” again. After the second reading, he could repeat them back perfectly. It meant he was definitely smart, so Beatrix would have to be careful. But she could—and would—use this discovery to her advantage.

What Beatrix desperately needed now was an ally within the palace walls. The Queen Dowager would never fully trust her. She’d always known that. Especially since Maila trusted no woman fully. The few consorts of the Old King who’d managed to survive the massacre were not simply killed on Maila’s orders immediately upon their return to the castle. They were burned at the stake, which had seemed excessive to Beatrix. What point did it make? And all the screaming . . . ? She’d been trying to read several important dispatches intercepted between Marius’s twin brothers and Cyrus the Honored when she’d been completely distracted by all that damn screaming! And it went on for ages since they burned each woman separately. Another waste of time and done simply for show.

Beatrix couldn’t wait to get control, so she could stop that sort of excess and waste. It needed to be reined in, used only when a message needed to be sent to all.

Sitting in her wedding gown, waiting for the time when she would walk down the aisle and lock her life to that of a petulant man-child who couldn’t read and relied too much on his mother, Beatrix looked up from the parchments she was studying.

The Follower of Her Word . . . er . . . Agathon, walked into Prince Marius’s privy chamber but froze at the entrance. They both knew she shouldn’t be here.

“My Lady Beatrix?”

“Agathon.” She lifted her hand and gestured at him with two fingers. “Come in. We should talk.”

He didn’t move, his eyes wide in near panic. Poor thing. He’d been so abused by Marius and his kin that Agathon didn’t realize when there was a hand being held out with a treat.

“Come, Agathon.”

He let out a breath and took several steps in.

“Close the door behind you.”

He did. “My lady, I think your time to—”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll be there to take my place beside my husband and declare my never-ending love.” Beatrix gestured to the chair across the table from her. “Sit.”

He did.

“Do you enjoy what you do for the Dowager Queen?” Beatrix asked, removing her spectacles so she could clean the fragile glass with a soft cloth.

“Of course, my lady. She is kind and fair and—”

“Dear gods, man, you don’t have to lie to me.” She carefully put the spectacles back on. “It does nothing but irritate me and set my teeth on edge and you’re very bad at it.”

Agathon fell silent, gazing down at the table.

“I understand that choices are hard. Especially when you’ve been given so few. But you must understand that there are those who will take you far into the future and those who will do nothing but drag you down until they dispose of you. When you are no longer useful. I’ve watched you—I see great potential.”

“My lady, I say this with great deference, but . . . you do not know the strength of will of Prince Marius and his mother. I say this to you as a warning and a—”

Beatrix held up her hand to halt his words and rested her arms on the table. She leaned in and said, “Look into my eyes, Agathon. Look deep. And you tell me, using the instincts that have allowed you to survive this long . . . what do you see?”

When Agathon hesitated to meet her eyes, she urged, “It’s all right. Look. And tell me what you see.”

He finally did, meeting her gaze, staring. And, the longer he stared, the whiter he became. All the blood left his worn, much-too-young-to-look-so-old face, his tongue swiping his suddenly dry lips, the lump in the front of his throat bobbing as he attempted to swallow.

That’s when Beatrix allowed herself a smile.

“Now you see, don’t you, Agathon? Now you see.”

Beatrix pushed back from the table and stood. “They’ll be coming for me soon,” she said, stepping around the table. “To take me to my future husband. Such a grand wedding created in such a short amount of time. Maila really should be proud.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, enjoying the way it tensed at her touch. “You and I could do great work together, Agathon. If you would just . . . trust me.”

“Do I have a choice, my lady?”

“Sadly . . . no. But neither do I.” She patted his shoulder and walked toward the door. “Keep in mind, though, Agathon . . . I have no time for petty cruelties and random acts of abuse. I have grand ambitions. Wouldn’t you enjoy being part of something like that? Rather than groveling to a former whore and her bastard son?”

Agathon wisely didn’t answer that specific question, and she didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t have answered it either.

But, as Beatrix put her hand on the door handle, he said, “There is a rumor, my lady . . .”

“A rumor?”

He nodded. Barely. “That your sister, the blacksmith . . . she’s not dead.”

Beatrix looked back at Agathon. “What?”

“There are rumors coming from those who live near the Amichai Mountains that she lives. Prince Marius does not know this . . . but the Dowager Queen does.”

Beatrix made a fist with her left hand, letting her small nails bite into the skin of her palm. She did it to clear her mind. This information had surprised her more than she would have expected.

“Thank you, Agathon,” she finally got out.

“Yes, my la—” He cleared his throat. “My queen.”

Pushing the thought of her eldest sister out of her mind, determined to deal with this news at a later time, she opened the door but stopped. Realized she couldn’t just ignore the fact of her sister still being alive.

“Agathon?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Can you get a message”—she faced Agathon again—“to Straton the Devourer?”

“I’m sure I can. I’m assuming you don’t want it to be from you.”

“Exactly. Not from me.”

“What kind of message?”

“The location of my family.”

Agathon frowned. “My lady?”

Beatrix shrugged. “A sacrifice, I know. But if I can’t kill my sister. . . I definitely need to distract her. Don’t you think?”

“Uh . . .”

“And I’m assuming the death of her entire family will do just that. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes. I’m sure that tragedy will . . . distract her.”

“Exactly. So see me after we say our vows and all that. I’ll want the message to go out immediately. Understand?”

“Yes . . . Your Majesty.”

“Excellent. Now, tell me honestly, Agathon . . .” She grabbed the skirt of her gown and held it out, away from her body. “What do you think of my dress? Maila picked it out herself. It’s not really to my taste.”

Agathon’s mouth briefly dropped open but he recovered quickly. “You look amazing in it, Your Majesty.”

“Hhmmh. I guess.” She took another look down at the gown. “The color white is fine, but I’ve never been a true fan of lace.”

CHAPTER 20

It was when Keran brought out the ale that things got bad. The way the Smythe sisters had been bickering all day, Caid had assumed he’d have to separate them at some point during the night, but it was Gemma and Keran who got into it. It probably had to do with the fact that Gemma’s order had a vow of sobriety while Keran had never made and, according to her, never would make that vow.

Keran drank heartily and expected everyone to join her. Quinn had a few sips but as soon as his eyes watered, Caid and Laila waved the offer away.

Keeley hadn’t bothered. Instead, she sketched with a piece of coal on parchment she kept in her travel bag. After they ate and began to get ready to sleep, Caid noticed what she was doing.

“What is that?” he asked.

“A hammer-axe combination weapon. It’ll be all steel. Nice, isn’t it?”