With everything calmed down, even Gemma, Keeley could finally tell them what she actually wanted.

“What makes you think there’s anything to find in the Old King’s castle?” Balla asked.

“Ludolf,” Keeley prompted the warlock.

“I’ve heard from a source very close to Queen Beatrix that she’s ordered a lot of activity near a certain mountain range without the knowledge of King Marius.”

“What kind of activity?” Aubin asked.

“I’m not sure. But she’s been at it for nearly two years. And hiding it from Marius for all that time.”

“What mountain range?” Caid wanted to know.

Ludolf shrugged. “Not sure.”

“That’s what I want you to find out,” Keeley said.

“Why?” Gemma asked.

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean why? All we know is that she’s doing something near the mountains and hiding it from her husband. So what?”

“Gemma, this is not some bored queen who might have taken one of the dark elves as a lover. This is Beatrix. If Beatrix is doing something that requires her to hide it from King Marius, there’s a reason. And not a good one. I want to know what she’s up to.”

“Why? Our only goal at this moment should be to destroy her kingdom. Not worry about some little pissant thing she may or may not be doing to torment her husband.”

“Do you really think that’s all Beatrix would be doing? Our Beatrix? Do you really think she gives a bloody shit about her husband beyond the crown he’s given her?”

Gemma closed her eyes, let out a breath.

“We need to know what she’s up to. Especially if she’s making the effort to hide it from Marius.”

“Fine,” Gemma said. “We go there. We find out what she’s up to, and then what?”

“If it’s something we can destroy, then we’ll destroy it. If it’s something that is not a big deal, then maybe I’ll be able to sleep at night!” she finished on a healthy bellow.

Surprised, Gemma asked, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Just a guess, but maybe because her sister tried to kill her.”

Gemma snarled across the table at Aubin but Keeley waved that concern away.

“That’s not it.”

“How can that not be it?” Léandre wanted to know.

“I don’t think Beatrix considers me her problem anymore. Not really. I think in her mind I’m more Marius’s problem. Now she has bigger concerns.”

“Then why are you so worried about her?”

“You really don’t know?” Keeley asked Gemma. “Because if she was willing to kill her own sister to get a crown, what would she be willing to do to anyone . . . everyone to keep it?”

* * *

Balla honestly didn’t know what to make of this woman. Her sister was a typical war monk. Dedicated to her god and to battle. You could see it on her face. She couldn’t wait to sink her sword into someone’s spine. Queen Keeley, however . . .

Who knew what she wanted? She didn’t seem to be driven by a lust for power. Those kinds of monarchs were always so obvious in their wants and needs, but Queen Keeley didn’t strut around with a retinue of sycophants following behind her. She didn’t snap at her servants or make ridiculous demands of her council.

Then what did this queen want? What was her purpose in doing all this? Revenge against her younger sister Beatrix? She’d heard the story. They all had. That Beatrix, in her quest for the crown, had attempted to kill Keeley. That she’d stabbed her or had her stabbed. The story changed depending on who told it.

It was clear that Brother Gemma definitely wanted Beatrix dead for what she’d done to her eldest sibling, so there must be some truth in the tale, but was it enough for all this?

Or maybe it was greed. But looking around at the limited comforts of what Brother Gemma continued to call a “castle,” Balla wasn’t exactly seeing it. This place was nice enough, but it wasn’t as luxurious as where Beatrix was currently living. Maybe Queen Keeley hoped to one day move the remainder of her family into the Old King’s castle. Balla had been there a few times decades ago, and it was quite a sight.

And yet that didn’t feel right either.

“What do you think?” she finally asked Priska. Although her assistant didn’t say much, the young novice watched everything. That’s how one learned and advanced among the temple virgins. Balla had not chosen the girl to be by her side lightly.

“She loves animals.”

When Priska didn’t say anything else, Balla followed up with, “So?”

“It’s how she makes all her decisions. She considers how her decision will affect animals and the people who care for animals. The farmers, the horse breeders.”

“But her sister?”

Priska’s eyes widened slightly. “The war monk?”

“Gods, no, Priska. Beatrix. What about Beatrix?”

“Oh. Well . . . she doesn’t really care about anything except keeping her power. Keeping her crown.”

“So, she’s all about hate.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“That’s the opposite of what I said. Cyrus hates all of us because we do not worship his god. But Beatrix feels no hate for anyone. She also feels no love for anyone. She simply doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about her family. About the animals. About people. She feels nothing for anyone. She is an empty husk that can only be filled with power over others. But Queen Keeley . . .”

They looked down the length of the large table at the bickering queen and monk.

“I’m not asking you for anything, Brother Gemma. You can stay here with the rest of your death cult—”

“It’s not a death cult! Dammit, Katla, that’s the last time I send you to tell my sister anything!”

“—and the rest of you lot can decide whether you want to help me or not on your own. We’ll meet tomorrow morning and talk then.”

“Keeley—”

“Until then—”

“Keeley!”

“—I’m done!”

The queen pushed her chair back but instead of storming off, she went under the table. The war monk was still attempting to speak to her sister but Queen Keeley was no longer answering, so she started banging on the top of the table with her fist, which got an “Owww! Stop doing that, mad cow!” A few seconds later, the queen crawled out from under the table carrying five wolf puppies. Four of the puppies had eyes of flame like the rest of their pack, but one of them had plain brown eyes. She handed that one to Brother Gemma and said, “Take this little one. I think her mother is rejecting her because she’s not like the others.”

“I don’t care,” Brother Gemma replied, trying to give her back the puppy.

“You should. How would you feel if Mum rejected you? Unloved! That’s how you’d feel.”

“We have more important things to discuss than your demon puppies.”

“Stop calling them that! And we are done discussing this.”

“I’ll go.”

“What?”

“I’ll go. I’ll risk life and limb to find out if Beatrix is being naughty. Happy now?”

“Well—”

“But I’ll only do it under one condition.”

“Are you really that determined to kill your own sister?”

“In this case . . . ? Yes.”

“Fine,” Keeley said on a long sigh. “But only, and I mean only if you can, without a doubt, get out safely. If you can’t . . . you walk away. You understand me, Gemma? This isn’t the order of a queen. This is the order of your older sister. You walk away. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

A servant brought over a basket that seemed to be made for these particular wolf pups since it was not made of wood or anything flammable but steel. Queen Keeley took her time bending over the basket and tucking the five pups into the blankets inside. A good thing too, because she missed the horse that made its way into the main hall from the kitchens.

It wasn’t surprising to see a horse wander into a castle. It was something that happened all the time in most lands. What was surprising was that at least half the horse was mostly dead. That’s what Balla found so concerning. The centaurs immediately moved away from the beast as did the priests, monks, and assassins.

Brother Gemma immediately noticed the horse, her gaze widening in panic. But she quickly hid that panic when the queen looked at her.

“What’s wrong with you?” the queen asked her sister.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how we’re going to manage all this.”

“It’ll work out fine,” the queen said, focusing again on the wolf pups.

Brother Gemma pointed at her younger sister Ainsley and then the horse.

Ainsley, wisely, shook her head.

Again, Brother Gemma silently pointed at the horselike thing, which had stopped to graze off the food scraps from the floor, and Ainsley again shook her head. But when the queen again looked up, the war monk immediately dropped her arms and smiled.

The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling at me? What are you up to?”

“What? Nothing. You’ve become so paranoid. It’s not very attractive.”

“This coming from you? The most paranoid person I know.” The war monk’s head tilted to the side and the queen quickly amended, “Except, of course, for Uncle Archie.”

“Thank you.”

With great ease, the queen lifted the heavy steel basket from the table and took a step. But just as quickly she stopped and without turning around asked, “What the unholy fuck is that thing behind me?”

Brother Gemma shrugged. “What thing?”

“You lying cow . . .” Queen Keeley shook her head. “No. I’m not . . . we’re not . . .” She continued to shake her head. “No, no, no. You know what I’m not going to do, my sister? I’m not going to base any judgment simply on what that thing looks like. It may look unholy and unnatural but I’m not going to judge it based on how it looks because it is still an animal. Or, at least it was. I’m making this decision because, unlike others who shall remain nameless, I am not shallow and hypocritical. Am I, Quinn?” she called out.