“And you brought her here?”

“They saw I was in danger and they saved me,” the Abbess explained.

“You? In danger?”

“Cyrus’s men were trying to kill her,” Gemma explained.

“You should have let them.”

“Ragna!” Gemma gasped. “We always protect the sisterhood.”

“It’s all right, Brother Gemma. I’m used to Brother Ragna forgetting her oath . . . especially to her precious god.”

A blade slashed and Quinn leaned back barely in time to avoid it cutting his face as he pushed Gemma into the arms of Shona and Laila, who’d just walked up. But the blade hadn’t been aimed at him. It was aimed at the nun.

The Abbess caught Ragna’s wrist and held it, smirking at the war monk seconds before she twisted, flipping the other woman. Ragna landed in a crouch, the blade still tight in her grip.

The Abbess yanked Ragna’s arm under her own. She bent the wrist back until she forced the monk to drop the blade, then turned to face Ragna again. She grabbed the monk’s tunic, dragged her forward, and head-butted her with a roar that had Quinn shifting into his battle centaur form.

He moved to shove the two women apart but they were separated by an unseen force, each woman landing hard on the ground, feet apart.

The red-robed man appeared. Ludolf the warlock. He stepped from inside the castle, gazing down at each woman before nodding at Quinn.

“Centaur.”

“Ludolf.”

Ragna picked herself up. “You? I thought I killed you, Ludolf.”

“It’s good to see you too, Ragna.”

“Woman, is there anyone you get along with?” Quinn felt the need to ask the war monk.

“Ragna is a true follower of Morthwyl, centaur. War is a creator of chaos and that’s what Ragna enjoys doing. Isn’t that right, War Monk?”

Ludolf held his gloved hand out for the Abbess but she ignored it and got up on her own.

“Thank you anyway, Ludolf.”

“Of course. Now if you’ll excuse me . . . the queen should be arriving soon.”

“You know my sister?” Gemma demanded.

“I introduced myself. We talked. Did you think I’d wait for you to introduce us, Brother Gemma? I know better than to trust a war monk to do anything for a blood warlock. Ragna made it perfectly clear we should never trust a war monk to do anything for us. No matter what our intent.”

“What does that mean?”

“Maybe Ragna will tell you one day. Until then . . . I’ve got other business.” He turned to the Abbess. “Hurik? After you?”

“Thank you, Ludolf.” The nun again smirked at Ragna, before heading inside ahead of him.

Ragna slipped her sword back into her sheath and started toward the main hall but Gemma grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

The master general looked down at the hand clutching her and then at the woman it was attached to. “I know you didn’t just grab me,” she said.

“You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“You need to get your hands off me.”

“Gemma’s right,” Katla announced. “You need to tell us everything, Ragna.”

Ragna smirked and in that moment, the calm and determined war monk returned. She gazed at the battle-cohorts she’d once trained and asked easily, “And who is going to make me do that, dear girl? You?”

Then, with a soft chuckle, she made her way into the main hall.

The small group of people who were left faced one another.

“What was that?” Kir whispered.

“At least you’re not crying,” Katla noted.

“I’m too fascinated to cry.”

“You know what?” Gemma reasoned. “We’ll deal with this later. We have bigger issues to worry about. Let’s just head inside.”

“Wait.” Katla held out a scroll.

“What’s that?” Gemma asked, reaching for it.

“It’s from Joshua. Thomassin—”

Gemma snatched her hand back so quickly everyone froze.

“Have you lost your mind?” Gemma demanded.

“What?”

“I can’t read that now!”

“Why not?”

“Everything that’s going on and you take this moment to hand me Joshua’s missive from beyond the funeral pyre and then you have the nerve to ask me why I can’t read it now? Really? It’s like you don’t think at all, Katla!” With that, Gemma stormed inside, shaking her head.

“Well, she’s tense,” Katla sarcastically noted.

“If I were you,” Quinn suggested, “I’d wait until things here settle down a bit and then give it to one of the servants to give to her.”

“Why?”

“Because Gemma will never yell at a servant. You, though? She’ll yell at you all day long.”

Katla thought on it a moment before nodding. “Good plan.”

The others started to head inside but Quinn noticed that Shona was staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“I like your horns.”

“These are antlers. And compliment me all you want. Hurt my sister, and I’ll tear your legs off.”

“Quinn.”

“What?” he asked Laila. “What?”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“Make better choices then.” Laila grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side.

“You’re actually telling me to make better choices?”

“Yes. What about that nice merchant in town?” he suggested.

“You just like her because she gives you all those extra cooked chickens!”

“And she’s nice. Not some soldier nailing every innocent girl she meets!” he finished on a yell in Shona’s direction, prompting her to walk inside.

“Innocent girl?” Laila asked.

“Yes. That’s you. Mostly. You’re nice and innocent. And you deserve nice and innocent.”

He went toward the main hall.

“But, Quinn, in what world am I an innocent—”

“Don’t want to hear it!”

* * *

As the warlock had said, Keeley was not in the main hall yet. So everyone stood around and waited for her. Not surprisingly, the longer they waited, the more tense everyone became.

Until Keeley’s demon wolves came in. The priests, temple virgins, and the Abbess were immediately uncomfortable when the creatures trotted in from the kitchens. Adela attempted to approach the wolves again, but they went around her in a way that had Gemma smirking. She enjoyed that they completely ignored the witch. What she didn’t like was how they went right to the blood warlock, circling his legs and then sitting on either side of him. He reached down and petted two of them on the head and all of those who’d traveled back to the castle with her turned to stare at Gemma.

“What’s going on there?” Ragna asked Gemma.

She leaned in close to the master general and confided, “I’ll tell you what’s going on between him and those dogs when you tell me what’s going on between you and the Abbess.”

Ragna’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “Don’t forget whom you’re speaking to, Brother Gemma.”

“Don’t forget that we’re the last of our order. We’re starting over. You’re starting over.”

“That just means I’m in charge. Not a novitiate.”

Gemma stepped closer to Ragna. “Would you like to test that point?”

Ragna appeared ready to do just that when a massive horse body wedged its way between them.

“Gods-dammit, Quinn!”

“Don’t make me lift my tail,” he warned.

“I have no idea what that means,” Ragna said with an eye roll.

“You’ve worked with enough horses, Master General. You know exactly what I mean.”

Quinn stomped off, tail swishing, but Ragna didn’t watch him go. She had her eyes closed.

“That’s disgusting,” she complained.

“At least he warned you,” Gemma said with a shrug. “From what he’s told me . . . there are others he has not warned.”

“These are the people you’re associating with, Brother Gemma?”

“At least they like me. Sadly, you cannot say the same.”

* * *

Keeley finally made an entrance as only Keeley could. While yelling at her uncle.

“Mention the family axe again, old man, and I’ll use the ones I do have to split your head open!”

“Should have killed him when I had the chance,” her father tossed in while petting a baby goat. He put his feet up on a table that Quinn had just noticed was brand-new. What had happened to the old dining table?

“Daddy,” Ainsley chided.

“What? He’s an asshole. Bothering my baby girl.”

His “baby girl” stalked across the room. She’d wiped the blood of the earlier battle off her face, neck, and arms but it was still on her sleeveless brown leather jerkin.

Keeley stepped on the chair and from the chair onto the table in one easy movement. Without preamble, she launched into what she had to say.

“Cyrus the Honored is doing exactly what we all suspected he’s been doing. Simply annihilating the other religions so he can make his god’s religion the one and only. That’s why he wants to be king. Not for himself, but for his god. I don’t know about you, but I find that more frightening than if he wanted to be king for himself. Nothing is worse than a fanatic.”

Keeley walked across the table, appearing strong and ready.

“That leaves us with only one option for Cyrus. He has to die.”

Ragna crossed her arms over her chest. “And you want my knight-monks to ride into battle against Cyrus’s army to do the killing, is that it?”

“As a matter of fact . . . no, I don’t, Lady Bitch-en-son.”

Katla snorted a laugh, but it quickly turned into a throat-clearing cough when Ragna glanced at her.