She reached down to pick up her sword. She’d stuck it into the ground when she and Keeley had gotten into it. She had it by the hilt when Quinn grabbed her around the waist and carried her off.

Gemma had no idea where the centaur was taking her. But even one of the hells had to be better than this.

* * *

Keeley sat with her back against a tree, her knees raised, and her elbows resting on them. She didn’t know she was not alone until she heard his voice.

“May I join you, Your Majesty?”

He wore red robes that covered him from head to foot. She couldn’t see any part of his face. Not even his hands because he wore red leather gloves.

“Only if you don’t call me ‘Your Majesty,’ ” Keeley practically snarled and she immediately winced. She knew she sounded petulant and bitter. And fucking whiny. When had she become whiny?

“Sorry. Sorry about that,” she immediately apologized. “That was pathetic and you didn’t deserve that tone.” She gestured to a nearby stump. “Please. Sit.”

He did. “I have never heard a royal admit he or she sounded pathetic before. Nor apologize. I feel truly confused.”

“I’ve only been a royal for two years. I’m sure I’m doing it all wrong.” She gazed at the man now sitting across from her. “I have to admit, though, I’d feel much better if I could see your face.”

“Everyone believes that . . . until they actually see my face.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve made armor and weapons for men and women who’ve been through the hell of battle and went back for more. I doubt you’ll show me anything I haven’t seen before.”

* * *

Quinn scrubbed the blood and gore from Gemma’s face, neck, and hands while she sat near the river and silently seethed.

He could tell she was seething by the way her brows were pulled together. In order to get the blood off her forehead, he’d had to pull the skin so he could clean it properly. It wasn’t easy. The muscles were so tight, he’d had to force her brows apart.

“Are you really going to sit there all day . . . glowering?”

“That is my plan.”

Quinn sat down and began to wipe his own face but Gemma snatched the clean cloth from him and began to clean him herself. Apparently, he wasn’t “doing it right.” He didn’t know what that meant, but he was too afraid to ask when she was like this. He should have grabbed her before she’d picked up her sword but he’d been slow to react. That was his fault. Because he knew better than most that once she picked up her sword, she was already too pissed for rational thought.

“She bashed in that woman’s head like it was nothing,” Gemma suddenly announced.

“That woman was a sorceress and she did try to kill Keeley.”

“But Keeley should have still talked to her first or at least—”

“Don’t you mean the old Keeley?”

“What?”

“The old Keeley? The one that Caid first met before I even came along. The one that Beatrix hadn’t stabbed yet. That Keeley would have asked questions first and would have tried to stop you from cutting off the sorceress’s head until she saw there was no other option. But this Keeley doesn’t wait. She asks fewer questions. She’s quicker to react. And you’re worried what that means.”

Gemma sat back on her heels, her head dropping.

“She’s not turning into Beatrix, Gemma,” he said, which was the question she was truly asking herself.

And after a long moment of contemplative silence—something these religious types were known for—Gemma asked in a low voice, “But what if she’s becoming something far worse?”

That’s when Quinn laughed. He had to. It was so ridiculous!

Gemma glared at him. “What the fuck’s so funny?”

“You say something so stupid after asking me that question? About Keeley?”

“Well—”

“Not only do you ask it about Keeley but you’re comparing her to gods-damn Beatrix!”

“You forget that Beatrix hasn’t actually done anything evil since she’s been queen.”

“It’s only been two years.”

“Yes, but everyone thought that as soon as she got the crown, the skies would turn to blood and the earth would crack open and unleash all sorts of hell beasts. None of that has happened. In fact, the only one with actual hell beasts is Keeley!”

“Is that what you were hoping for?” he laughed. “The earth to crack open when Beatrix became queen?”

“No! Of course not. But I thought we were fighting against pure evil. Not stopping my sister from sitting on a throne in some fancy dress.”

“Is that really what you think we’re doing?”

“I’m starting to think maybe we should have had our focus on Cyrus all this time. He’s managed to destroy monasteries and churches and sneak onto our land unseen, and nearly kill my sister.”

“He did not nearly kill your sister. We have absolutely no idea how long they were here watching her, but Keeley has known the entire time. She was not surprised when they attacked her.”

“I know.” She briefly looked away before asking, “And that doesn’t bother you? If she knew about them, why didn’t she kill them right away?”

Quinn couldn’t help it, he laughed again.

“What’s so funny?”

“You and my sister. Either you’re yelling at Keeley because she’s making snap decisions and not thinking things through. Or you’re yelling at her because she’s not moving fast enough.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. The only thing you two ever consistently tell her is that she should kill Beatrix as soon as she sees the whites of her eyes, which you both know she won’t ever do.”

“Which is a mistake.”

He laughed again and stood, stripping off his kilt and chainmail shirt.

“Why am I seeing you naked? I don’t want to see you naked.”

“Of course you do. And I’m getting in the river. I still have blood in my hair.”

“And a little bit of brain at the temples.”

“That’s nice.”

* * *

The man sat down across from Keeley and began to carefully dismantle the hood of his robe. It took some time because it was a complicated endeavor; she assumed it had been arranged so no one could simply rip it off. When he was done and Keeley could see him clearly, she asked, “Did someone do that to you or did you do that to yourself?”

“A combination, I’m afraid. It’s the price one pays for power.”

“Steep price.”

“Yes, but now I have a lot of power.”

“And you’ve brought it here . . . for what reason?”

“I wasn’t sure.” He went through the process of putting his hood back into place. When he was done, he said, “I met your sister. Beatrix. She’s cold. Calculating. I like that.”

“She’s smart too. Smarter than everybody.”

“And she knows it.”

“She does.”

Keeley had nothing else to say to this man, but before she could tell him to go, the only companions guaranteed to cheer her up ran to her side. The pack jumped around her, licking her face and neck, rubbing against her. They’d eaten well today. She didn’t allow them to eat humans, except enemy soldiers during battle and enemies that attacked her like the ones this afternoon. So the wolves were in a very good mood, which cheered her up immensely. In fact, she was so busy laughing and petting them that it took her a few minutes to realize that the man had gone quiet.

“What?” she finally asked, smiling.

“Do you know what you have there?”

She let out a pained sigh. “Not you too. I thought with that face of yours, you’d be a tad less judgmental. But, since you’re not, I’ll tell you what I tell my self-righteous war monk sister. They may come from one of the hells, but they’re animals. And animals are innocent. Even if their eyes are made of flames and their drool is made of blood. It’s not their fault they are what they are. They did not choose this life, and I’m not going to blame them for it. They are my friends and they are welcome here for as long as they want to stay.”

She heard the man sniffing the air. “You do know they’ve recently eaten humans?”

“The ones who tried to kill me. I told them they could. The humans were dead anyway. And the wolves have been very good. At my request, they don’t kill the villagers. So letting them eat my enemies is the least I can do.”

The man abruptly got to his feet. Keeley thought he was going to storm off. Something she was used to from Gemma. But instead, he brushed off his robes, and then he bowed.

“Queen Keeley, I am Ludolf of the Eastern Shores. A blood warlock and at your service.” He took a step closer. “I believe I can be of great assistance to you and your reign.”

Keeley, still petting one of her wolves, stared up at the robed man for at least a minute before she finally asked, “What’s a blood warlock?”

“Uh . . . that’s your question? I offer you the assistance of a warlock and you want to know what a blood warlock is?”

“I’ve never heard of one before. It sounds fascinating.”

“Well . . . let’s see . . . the best way I can explain what I do is to tell you that a blood warlock is something that will greatly annoy your war monk sister.”

“Oh!” Keeley nodded. “Then, Lord Ludolf, which is what I will now call you, we’re already off to a great start.”

* * *

Gemma paced at the river’s edge. “Are you even listening to me?”

“You’re ranting.”

“I am not ranting. I’m just concerned.”

“Concerned about what?”

“That we’re making a mistake.”