“This discussion is over,” Sprenger announced. “I have made my decision.”

“You can’t just remove me from the order without due cause.”

“I can do anything I want.”

“Really? Is that written down somewhere? Brothers?” she called out to a group of well-armed monks clustered around a desk filled with parchments, scrolls, and ancient tomes. “Is it written down somewhere that the grand master can do just anything he wants?”

“That is it!” Sprenger launched himself from his chair and marched down the steps until he was standing in front of Gemma, towering over her. “You are out!”

“You can’t throw me out without justification. Trust me, that was one of the first things I checked when I committed my heart and soul to Morthwyl.”

“Except that’s just what I did! I’ve thrown you out! For gross insubordination.”

“This isn’t the Order of Silent Prayer and Sacrifice, Grand Master. You need more than that to toss me out on my ass.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“You want something, you arrogant fuck—”

Thomassin buried his head in his hands and moaned, “Oh, Gemma.”

“—then . . . Challenge.”

There were shocked gasps around the room and more elders dropped their heads in their hands or rolled their eyes or simply closed their eyes and shook their heads.

Sprenger gawked down at Gemma. “What did you say?”

“Challenge.”

“You can’t challenge me. You’re not of high enough rank.”

“So? You can’t just throw me out. And yet here we are!”

With no answer, the grand master just stared at her.

That’s when Gemma asked, “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll finish taking off that jaw?”

The backhand took them all by surprise. Blood from Gemma’s mouth and nose splattered Quinn and Laila, but they still managed to catch Keran before she could get her hands on Sprenger.

Slowly, ignoring the blood pouring down her lips and chin, Gemma looked up at the grand master and spat out, “Challenge.”

“I will not accept a challenge from some low-born, low-rank nobody!”

“Hey!” Gemma was quick to remind him. “I’m a princess now, bitch!”

“Brother Gemma!” Thomassin barked again.

“There’s another option,” Master General Ragna said as she made her slow, methodical way across the room, inserting herself between Gemma and Sprenger to prevent any more unnecessary hitting. “Brother Gemma’s rank doesn’t matter if she’s someone else’s champion.”

The anger that now flashed across Sprenger’s face was white hot and dangerous and, Quinn was guessing, much deeper than what he’d felt toward Gemma. He was so angry that he grabbed Ragna’s upper arm and yanked her close.

He snarled between his teeth, “What do you think you’re doing? We discussed this.”

A few of Ragna’s soldiers were in the chamber with her and the ends of their spears hit the ground. It was a simple gesture but most of the monks backed away. Sprenger didn’t seem to notice; his gaze was locked on Ragna’s face. She, however, was too busy staring at where his fingers gripped her arm.

“I would strongly suggest,” Ragna said, “that you think about where you put your hands . . . Grand Master.”

It was a simple statement, quietly made in her effortless, calm way. But that was where the threat came from. In that calm way that told Sprenger she would destroy him in ways that the rest of them could only dream about. Sprenger wisely released her and turned his back. A risky move, but Quinn sensed that Ragna was too proud to attack such a man from behind.

Without even acknowledging him, she went on. “Elder Thomassin, is Brother Gemma a worthy champion for you?”

Thomassin looked at the two elders on either side of him. First one, then the other. They both nodded and he returned his gaze to Ragna. But before he said anything, he sighed. Loud and long. Not in anger or disgust. Just in frustrated acceptance. Whatever these three monks had planned, Gemma had fucked it up as only Gemma could. It was something about the Smythe family. They tended to fuck things up. Whether it was for their own siblings or for kings. They never meant to, but fuck things up they did.

“Yes,” he finally stated. “She is a worthy champion.”

“Then we have Challenge, Grand Master. One you cannot turn down. As you so wisely pointed out to Grand Master Joshua when you challenged him.”

“Fine.” Sprenger faced them. “Three days hence—”

“Now,” Gemma said.

Ragna shrugged. “As the weaker of the challengers, Grand Master, Brother Gemma chooses the time. She says now. So it’s now. Weapons?”

“Swords,” Gemma announced.

“Swords it is.”

“Do I get any say?” Sprenger demanded.

“Not really.”

“Hold!” one of the monks called, stepping forward.

“Yes, Brother James?” Ragna asked.

“I offer to be the grand master’s champion,” Brother James announced proudly.

Gemma cracked her knuckles before opening her arms wide and demanding, “Let’s go!”

“No,” Ragna quickly interjected. “There will be no champion for the grand master.”

“Why not?” Brother James wanted to know.

“Because Grand Master Sprenger did not allow one for Grand Master Joshua. So it seems only fair, does it not? Good!” she finished when Brother James attempted to argue.

“Now,” Ragna said, looking at both parties, “five minutes and then we begin.”

Ragna briefly stopped next to Gemma and told her, “For once, attempt to remember what I taught you.”

Sprenger, however, looked at Thomassin and threatened, “Once I kill her . . . I kill you.”

“Oh, dearest Brother,” Thomassin replied with a smirk, “we’ve had so many experiences together . . . what’s one more?”

* * *

Gemma removed her fur cape and the chainmail shirt her mother had made for her, leaving only the thick white shirt she wore under it. She moved her arms and shoulders, twisted her head from side to side.

Shona looked over the weapons she had on her sword belt. “Long sword or—”

“Not sure yet.”

“Better think fast.”

“Don’t start with me, Shona.”

“Thomassin and the others had different plans,” Katla needlessly pointed out.

“Yes, I figured that out.”

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Just go along? I’m a war monk. We were never trained to just go along. Joshua’s ashes would be swirling around in his . . . wherever they are.”

Shona moved closer. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Sprenger is not a good fighter, Brother. He’s always been a good fighter. And over the years he’s only gotten better.”

“Do either of you really consider this a pep talk?”

“If you want a pep talk, we’d suggest Kir. But he’s too busy crying.”

“We just got you back,” Kir sobbed when the women looked at him.

“The faith all of you have in me is overwhelming.”

“Which sword?” Shona asked again.

“I’m still thinking.”

“Still?”

Katla put her hand on Gemma’s shoulder. “Just . . . don’t fuck up.”

“Ahhh, how I’ve missed the brotherhood of it all.”

* * *

It was worrisome. First, he saw Farlan whisper to Samuel, “Go down to the stables and get the horses ready. Be ready to move. Understand?”

And off the boy went, to get the horses and supplies they’d need. No one stopped him. None of these monks paid the least bit of attention to Samuel. Of course, Quinn had the feeling they’d paid little attention to the poor kid when he’d been an actual squire wearing the tunic of the monastery.

That wasn’t what was worrisome, though. It was what he saw after that. Ragna spotted Samuel moving through the crowd and with a subtle nod, she sent one of her own warriors to follow. Why? Why was Ragna sending one of her rather fanatical soldiers to follow a kid? What was really going on? And what did Sprenger mean when he said something about their having “talked about this”? What had they talked about? Gemma? Thomassin? This Challenge? What exactly was happening here?

But before Quinn could decide what his next move should be, his sister grabbed his arm. And it was the urgency with which Laila grabbed him that pushed all other thoughts temporarily out of his head.

“You need to irritate Gemma,” she whispered to him.

“You just told me to stop irritating her.”

“That was before,” Laila insisted. “When I thought we might get out of here without a fight. Now that’s obviously not going to happen. So now you need to irritate her.”

“You’re serious?”

“What do you think?”

“You know, this isn’t something I can just make up on the spot.”

“You are kidding right now, aren’t you?”

“No. I don’t just irritate her to irritate her. She’s irritated by me for some unknown reason. So I have no idea what I could possibly say at the moment that would annoy her so much it would distract her from something as serious as what is about to happen here at this very—ohhhh! You know what? I have something.”

Quinn shook off his sister’s grip and made his way over to Gemma’s side. She stood alone with two swords in her hands. A long sword and a broad sword. She swung both, stretching her arms and shoulders.

“Is this to the death?” he asked.

Gemma stopped moving, turned to face him. “What?”

“Is this a fight to the death?”

“Why are you asking?”