One of them moved his horse closer to Keeley. “So what? It’s a nice town.” He glanced at a few of the buildings. “Maybe we’d like to stay a bit. Have some fun.”

Keeley glanced at Caid and the others over her shoulder. “We like fun. Don’t we, lads? Don’t we all like fun?”

Caid thought she was talking to him and their team . . . but no. She was talking to her demon wolves.

The wolves appeared beside them, around them, and above them. Standing on the tops of buildings and growling down at the men. Growling with their bloody drool pooling in the dirt.

And there were more of them. Not a few more. An army more. An army of angry demon wolves with eyes of flame and drool made of blood.

“Come on, my beauties!” Keeley called out to her “friends,” raising her arms in the air. “Go have some fun!”

The demon wolves had the first half of the reinforcements torn off their mounts and dying in the dirt within seconds. Then they chased the soldiers who made a mad run for it.

Keeley faced Caid and the others, smiling. “That went well, yeah?”

Laila pointed down. “What happened to its head?”

Keeley looked down at the now-scarred lead wolf standing beside her, with Prince Straton’s head hanging from his mouth.

“What do you think happened?” Keeley asked, confused. “It got cuff off.”

CHAPTER 29

Keeley sat next to Gemma on the stoop that led into the longhouse.

“I can’t believe how tired I am,” she said, watching as the bodies of the mercenaries were dragged off to a burning pit outside town. The local men had happily taken on the duty, offering Keeley their services for nothing.

“I didn’t think one could be this tired without being dead.”

“Hhhm.”

“Where’s Keran?”

“After she got the girls from the brothel to safety, she took Samuel to the pub.”

“That, Sister, might be a plan.”

Keeley heard the startled screams of the locals and she knew the demon wolves were returning to her. When they arrived, they had a dark-haired woman with them.

“Are you Keeley Smythe, the Blacksmith Queen?”

Despite her exhaustion, Keeley couldn’t help but smile a little at the title. “I guess I am.”

“You returned our sister to us. She was a captive of Prince Straton and I wanted to thank you myself.”

Keeley combed her hair off her face. “Does she need anything? We don’t have much right now, but the women . . . who were . . . I mean . . .”

“Me, my sisters . . . we’re witches. It wasn’t sex that Straton wanted from my sister, but her magicks to advance his cause. She refused simply because she didn’t have the skill, but she could have done little things. Little things to appease him, to give a bit of help in his war. But my sister wasn’t blind to the kind of leader he would be. That he was not a leader she could allow in the world. So he beat her, every day. And we were unable to rescue her because we lacked the power to do so.” She shrugged. “Perhaps we should have joined an order, but it’s too late for that now.”

“I have some healing skills—”

“No, thank you, War Monk.” The woman cut off Gemma not only with her words but a brutal look.

Gemma flicked her hands. “As you like.”

“Are you two sisters?”

Keeley nodded. “Yes.”

“You fight together then?”

“We do.”

“That’s nice.” She gestured at the longhouse. “And you will stay here?”

“Once we get the stench of Prince Straton and his men from this place,” Gemma said.

“Actually, my plan is to reinforce the town walls first,” Keeley explained. “My family will be arriving soon and I want everything to be secure for them as well.” She thought a moment. “Or maybe we shouldn’t stay here at all. I don’t want these poor people to be put through any more—”

“You do understand that you can’t save her?” the woman interrupted Keeley.

Keeley glanced at Gemma. Was the woman speaking of Straton’s former captive?

Unsure, she said, “Pardon?”

“Beatrix. You can’t save Beatrix. She was never yours to save. I know that hurts you and I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t continue to hope. She’ll only destroy you with it.”

Keeley shook her head, a little confused. “I must admit, I haven’t had that hope since she stabbed me.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, blacksmith. I was speaking to the War Monk.”

Shocked, Keeley again looked at Gemma and there were tears in her sister’s bright blue eyes. “Gemma?”

“You were right,” Gemma admitted. “I shouldn’t have left the family. I should never have left.”

Keeley put her arm around Gemma’s shoulders. “Gemma, come on. You have to know that whether you had left or stayed, Beatrix would have done all this. But you had to go. I see that now. So should you. Because now I have a much-feared War Monk by my side. To fight with me.”

Keeley wiped the tear that rolled down her sister’s blood-covered cheek. “And you are with me now . . . yes?”

Gemma nodded. “Always. Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t punch you in the face should you deserve it.”

Keeley kissed Gemma’s temple. “I’d expect no less.”

“I have to get back to my sisters,” the woman said, turning away from Keeley and Gemma. But she stopped and added, “You know, the old jarl had a throne in there. Straton was a fan. He’d sit in it, feeling all proud of himself. As if he thought he was already the Old King. If I were you,” she said, moving away from them, “I’d get rid of the bloody thing. Tear it from the ground.” She glanced at them one last time over her shoulder. “Just a suggestion.”

The sisters watched the woman until she disappeared into the crowd of workers removing the bodies; then they jumped up and ran into the longhouse.

The centaurs were sitting at the long tables, eating and drinking ale.

“What’s wrong?” Caid asked as Keeley and Gemma rushed over to the throne.

“It’s bolted into the stone floor,” Gemma noted.

“So?”

“We’re both exhausted.” When Keeley stared at her, Gemma rolled her eyes. “Get the tools.”

* * *

The local blacksmith, apparently delighted to be free again, gave Keeley whatever she requested and she quickly returned to the longhouse.

Caid watched her and her sister start working on prying the throne from its moorings.

“What are they doing?” Laila asked. She was so tired, her face nearly dropped into her plate of food.

“They’re trying to pry up the jarl’s throne.”

“Why?”

“Why do they do anything?” Caid just wanted to get into bed. With Keeley. And sleep for the next ten weeks or so. He’d assumed she’d want to do the same thing until she started obsessing over that bloody throne.

But the Smythe women were not to be dissuaded by something as simple as exhaustion and hunger.

They worked hard, ignoring Caid’s offers of help. Finally, though, when they’d nearly gotten the thing up, Caid and Quinn joined in to heave the ridiculous throne off its moorings and away from the floor—

Gasping in shock, they all shoved the throne back into place.

Laila jerked awake again, sitting up straight. “What? What’s wrong?”

She frowned, watching their expressions, and pushed away from the table.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Something the jarl left, I guess.”

“What was that?” Together, the four of them moved the throne again.

Laila gazed down into the hole built beneath it. “Holy shit!”

“Yeah,” Keeley said, grinning.

“Is it all gold?”

“I think I see some gems in there. Look at those rubies.”

“How did you know about this?” Laila asked.

“Someone told us.”

“It’s been here all this time?”

Keeley shrugged. “I guess. But it belongs to the town, yes?” When they all just stared at her, she asked, “What?”

“You’re the queen, dumbass,” Gemma sighed out. “It’s your gold.”

“Oh. Well . . . that’s good.” She blinked and stared off, forcing Caid to look away before he started laughing. Because he kind of knew what was coming next. “But what do I do with it?”

“Run your kingdom?” Laila asked.

“Build your army?” Quinn suggested.

“Reinforce the town and this longhouse to protect yourself and all those within?” Caid offered.

Keeley smiled. “Oh, those are lovely ideas!”

That’s when the War Monk slapped the new queen in the back of the head. “Idiot.”

* * *

It took a few days, but Keeley knew as soon as they arrived. Running out of the longhouse, she threw herself into her father’s good arm; the other still trapped in a sling so he could heal from his arrow wounds.

They burst into mutual tears, hugging each other tight while her mother and sister hugged and rolled their eyes at the emotional outburst.

“That’s not the way for a proper queen to act,” her mother softly chastised.

“Are you going to start shoving that in my face now?”

“If I have to.”

“Come on, you lot. No bickering between me girls.” Her father set Keeley on the ground and kissed her forehead.

“Da,” she began, “about Beatrix—”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “We won’t be talking about that now. Maybe not ever,” he added before he turned to hug Gemma. Understanding how her father felt and not wanting to upset him, Keeley went ahead and hugged her mother. Then, of course, came all the children.