It was fascinating but worrying. Keeley didn’t know how she felt about an army of war monks taking up residence in her queendom. Not because of her wolves. She knew they could take care of themselves. And if things got too dangerous for them, they could return to their original home. But she didn’t want one fanatic replacing another. Cyrus was a nightmare but were the war monks any better?

Was Ragna?

“Keeley?”

Gods, what she wouldn’t give to be back in the forge with her mum. How she missed the steel. The heat. The infernal banging of her hammer.

“Keeley?”

Realizing she’d gotten lost in daydreams again, Keeley faced her sister. “Ainsley. What do you need?”

“I’m back.”

“Right. You’re back. And we are all so glad you’re back.”

Ainsley’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “You didn’t know I was gone, did you?”

“Of course I knew you were gone. You’re my little sister. How could I not know you were gone?”

“Then where did I go?”

Feeling certain this was a trick question, Keeley didn’t answer right away, which led to Ainsley rolling her eyes and asking that question she’d been asking since she could speak whole sentences.

“Am I invisible? Does anyone know I exist? Did I die when I was a small child and I’m just a phantom that follows the rest of the family around?”

“That’s a horrible thing to say and of course not! We know you’re here. I can see you!”

“Can you? Because it doesn’t feel like it! I was gone for days and you didn’t even notice!”

“Do you realize how busy I am? I’m queen. There are things I have to do all day, every day and I’m sorry if I can’t spend each and every minute worrying where my adult sister is.”

“Excellent point. But remember when I was living in that tree—”

“I knew you were going to bring that up.”

“—and no one noticed for nearly three weeks?”

“I told you—”

“I was only ten. No one noticed. Mum and Da didn’t even ask about me. You went to work—not as a queen, but as a blacksmith—came home, didn’t notice. Why? Because as far as this family is concerned, I’m invisible. So don’t give me that I’m-an-adult-and-a-queen thing. Because we both know that’s horseshit.”

Not wanting to rehash the living-in-a-tree story yet again, Keeley asked, “Other than letting me know you’re back home—”

“Even though you didn’t notice I was gone in the first place.”

“—is there any other reason you needed to talk to me?”

Ainsley gestured with her thumb to the three monks standing behind her. “This lot wanted to speak with you.”

Unlike Gemma, these three monks wore white tunics instead of black. Just like Brother Ragna, which meant Keeley already didn’t like them.

“Queen Keeley,” a female monk said. “I’m Brother Katla, this is Brother Shona, and this is Brother Kir. We are Brother Gemma’s battle-cohorts and she’s asked that—”

“You’re her what?”

“Battle-cohorts. We trained with her from when we were novitiates. The four of us are bound together in friendship and blood.”

Disturbed by all that, Keeley took a small step back. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It just means that our loyalty to one another is unto death.”

Now Keeley rubbed her suddenly aching forehead because . . . what? “Is it possible for you war monks ever to talk about each other without bringing in death and blood?”

“Not when you’re a war monk. Anyone can be a monk. But we’re war monks, which means there’s always blood and death involved in what we do.”

Brother Shona rested her hand on Brother Katla’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’re making this better.”

“I know, but,” the other female monk pushed on, “I do want to say how amazing your Ainsley was during the final battles at the monastery. She’s an incredible archer, your sister. Her aim is true. She was not invisible to us.”

Keeley’s gaze moved to her sister’s, catching her mid-grimace.

“Wait. I don’t understand. Ainsley, you were part of that battle against Cyrus’s legion?” Keeley asked. “Gemma didn’t keep you out of that?”

“Well, it’s just . . . um . . .” Ainsley cleared her throat. “I mean, I did face some of Cyrus’s soldiers and a few of the war monks fighting Gemma.”

Whatever her sister might believe about her role in the family, Ainsley was still too young and naïve to be in the middle of life-and-death battles! And Gemma, of all people, should have known that!

Instead of exploding at Ainsley about being in battle—since Gemma wasn’t there to explode at instead—Keeley demanded, “Why were loyal war monks fighting other loyal war monks? I thought all of you were loyal unto death and blood and all that. What happened to all that fucking loyalty Gemma bragged about?”

“It’s a complicated story,” Ainsley admitted.

“I’m sure it is.” Keeley looked at the monks. “Maybe you three can explain it to me?”

Instead of lying—which was what Keeley was expecting from them—Brother Katla just told the big male, “Do not start crying, Kir.”

But a tear was already sliding down his cheek before he said, “We should not have been fighting amongst ourselves. I will always blame Sprenger for what happened to us. We should not have been fighting each other there at the end before half of what remained of us went off to die in glorious battle. We should have been united as one, then gone off to die in glorious battle. That’s the way it was before Sprenger and that’s how it should have been until the end. But he destroyed our unity, and I hope he burns in hell for it.”

Brother Katla closed her eyes, shook her head. Brother Shona simply grimaced.

Keeley, however, grabbed Ainsley’s arm and yanked her close. “I see what’s going on here.”

“You do?” Shona asked.

“You’re trying to recruit another sister of mine to your death cult. Is that it?” Keeley accused.

Ainsley held up her hand in front of Keeley’s face. “You do understand that I can take care of myself, don’t you?”

“Since when?”

“Well, since all of you keep forgetting I exist—”

“Can we discuss that later?” Keeley quickly cut in.

“And just so we’re clear, we’re not a death cult,” Brother Katla argued. “Death cults only care about their own deaths and, of course, the end of the world. We, however, kill everyone else.” Now she grimaced. “That came out wrong.”

“Truly? Because it sounded so perfect from here,” Keeley replied with an intense amount of sarcasm. Even for her.

Brother Shona stepped in front of Brother Katla. “Look, I see that we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. We’re not attempting to recruit anyone. Gemma just asked us to introduce ourselves. So you could get to know us.”

“Why in the fuck would she do that?”

“She actually did think it would be a good idea in the hopes that you’d feel more comfortable with all these war monks here at your doorstep. At the time. Of course, our monastery had just burned down. So maybe she was still in shock.”

Keeley jerked her chin at the giant male, unwilling to release Ainsley for fear they’d steal away with her. “Why is he still crying?”

“We didn’t mean to upset you so!” he sobbed out.

“You know what?” Keeley finally admitted. “I now understand something. Why none of you are like Brother Emmanuel. He’s a pacifist monk I met very recently. He goes out and makes people feel better. He’s been doing it for days. I’ve watched him. No matter the sect or the god worshipped, he puts all at ease.” Keeley shook her head. “But I think we can all agree. That is not a job you three should ever have.”

Shona let out a long sigh. “I wish we could argue that point with you, Your Majesty . . . but we cannot.”

* * *

Gemma decided to pass through a town to pick up a few supplies. That was where she caught sight of three witches standing outside a pub. She only knew they were witches because her order had battled their coven several years back. It had been an ugly, violent conflict that hadn’t ended well for the nearby townspeople, who were left with nothing but a burnt-out husk of a village, a lot of dead farm animals and, most likely, a never-ending hatred of war monks and witches.

Immediately, Gemma pulled the list of names out of her boot and studied it.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

“They’re on the list.”

“Who is?”

Too annoyed even to answer, Gemma dismounted Dagger’s back and walked over to the three witches.

“Ladies,” she coldly greeted.

“They sent you?” Adela demanded.

“It could be worse,” Gemma shot back. “Ragna could have come. She’s the one who burned your grandmother, I believe.”

Adela raised her gloved hand and Gemma had her sword out when a man’s explosive laugh had all of them looking around.

“Now, now, my lovelies! No need to be so angry! We can all get along! And I guess we’re all here for the same thing!”

“Who are you?” another witch demanded.

“I am Vicar Ferdinand,” he said grandly, bowing at the waist. “At your service.”

“Oh, no,” Father Aubin said from behind Gemma. “A truce vicar.”

There was nothing but sighs and groans except from Quinn, who asked, “What’s a truce vicar?”

“Hell on earth,” Faraji of the Low Mountains drily complained from behind his assassin mask.

* * *