“Well . . . it is heated.”

* * *

The priests and others might be getting the cheap castle wine but Quinn had several bottles of the expensive stuff stowed away here in his little house. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, though, usually preferring ale to wine. But the wine was a perfect choice for a night like this.

He thought that Gemma would insist on getting in the tub by herself but as she stripped off her chainmail, she asked, “Aren’t you getting in?” Then quickly added, “Not with your horse ass, though.”

Then he remembered that she’d lived for a decade in a monastery and on battlefields. Maybe she was simply used to being around naked men.

So they soaked in the hot water, drank wine, and ate the hard cheese Mary had packed with everything else.

“Maybe Keeley’s right,” Gemma mused.

“You have never said that before.”

“I mean about healing Kriegszorn.”

“Giving her her life back?”

“That I don’t think I can do.”

“That’s too bad.”

“But maybe give her more . . .”

“Skin?”

“Yeah. It’ll take skills far superior to mine though, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe the witches could help you like Keeley suggested.”

Gemma immediately sneered. “I don’t trust those witches.”

“I don’t trust Adela. Don’t know anything about the other two.”

“So it’s not just me.”

“No. She’s up to something. And it’s not because she suddenly wants to be helpful to your sister.”

“Ten gold pieces says she’ll be gone by morning after she takes what she wants.”

“You don’t seem too worried about her being a possible risk to your family.”

Now she snickered. “Ragna is looking for an excuse to burn her the way she burned her grandmother. Adela wouldn’t dare go near my family.”

“If you lose Adela or all the witches,” he asked, “will that make it more difficult for you to travel to the Old King’s castle?”

“The witches have their uses, but we can make do with what we have.”

“And, of course, I’m going with you.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Quinn immediately leaned away from her before asking, “You’re not going to argue about that with me?”

“Argue about what?”

“About me going with you on this mission?”

“Why would I argue with you about that?”

“You argue about everything.”

“I do not argue about everything! That is absolutely wrong!”

“At this moment, you are arguing about arguing.”

“Well, I’m not arguing about this.”

“Why? Are you plotting something?”

“Now you’re just irritating me and it’s starting to ruin my expensive wine.”

Quinn ate more cheese. “And you’re really going to go on this mission?”

“Keeley actually said I could kill Beatrix. Of course I’m going to go.”

“She said only if you can get out alive. I’m holding you to that, because I know you. When it comes to Beatrix, you get all obsessive. And wasn’t it just a few hours ago you were ready to join forces with the bitch?”

“No!” She ate a piece of cheese. “Okay, yes, I was. But this is my chance to find out what Beatrix is really up to, if anything. Besides, I didn’t know Keeley wasn’t sleeping.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know my sister. Keeley can sleep through almost anything. One time she went to see a new batch of piglets in the barn and that’s where we found her a few hours later. Sleeping with the piglets and their mother. It was adorable and disgusting in equal measure, but there she was. So if she’s not sleeping, even with Caid right next to her . . . something is definitely wrong. And if it’s Beatrix, now is the time to find out. Then I won’t have any more doubts.”

“Good.”

“It is good. I also have a question and I finally feel drunk enough to ask.”

Quinn sighed. “Of course you have a question. You’re a Smythe. All of you have questions.”

She moved around in the water until she was right in front of him.

“All right, here it is. The fact that you thought I was a virgin . . . is that why you didn’t want to see me naked?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You went out of your way to lure Keeley into that naked river bath with the other centaurs but not me.”

“Have you seen your sister? Have you seen the way that woman is built? I had to see her unencumbered with clothes,” he admitted. “I had to. And I was not disappointed. Of course, I could have lured your mother instead, but I find your father fairly terrifying. He’s extremely attached to her.”

“And I’m not built like my sister at all, is that it?”

“No. You’re more compact. Plus your scars are much more terrifying.”

“Should I be insulted by that?”

“It’s not an insult. Until recently, your sister’s scars were all ‘oops, I bumped into an anvil’ or ‘the horse bit me’ or ‘I dropped that sword I made against my chest.’ All your scars, however, are ‘Not only am I lucky to have survived, but I destroyed everything that was in my way and salted the ground my enemies walked upon.’ I didn’t necessarily want to know the backstories. Especially since the last few months you tended to get maudlin anytime the monastery thing came up.”

“I did not.”

“Oh, yes, you did. That’s why we all thought you were drinking. In fact, I was shocked to discover that maudlin is not how you are all the time. But that when you were in the monastery, according to Brother Cries-a-Lot you were often the life of the party. So it’s just since you’ve been home with Keeley that you’ve been like this. What makes you so sad, Brother Gemma? Is it Keeley’s rise to power? Did you want to be queen?”

“That’s it. I’m done.”

Gemma threw back the rest of her wine and stood. No, she was not built like her sister, but he didn’t mind. He was fascinated by Keeley the way he was fascinated by anything he’d never seen before. And Keeley was unique.

Watching Gemma, though . . . she was unique too. It was hard to see that when she was covered in chainmail and a religious tunic. But seeing her naked, she was just as muscular as her sister; just as powerful. Only in a smaller package. A smaller, deadlier package.

Quinn chuckled and Gemma glared at him over her shoulder. “What?”

“Just wondering which of you would win in a fight. You or Keeley?”

Instead of responding in anger, which was what Quinn actually expected, Gemma looked off thoughtfully and asked, “With or without weapons?”

“Without.”

“Oh. Me.”

“So confident.”

“It’s the first thing I was taught as a female novitiate. How to deal with bigger and stronger combatants before they can knock you out completely. If they knock you out before you have a chance to react, you’re kind of screwed.”

“That’s why you’re so paranoid.”

She shrugged her own massively large shoulders. “Wouldn’t you be?”

* * *

“Where’s the wine?”

Busy drying off with linen, Quinn pointed at a table pushed against the wall. She’d just picked up the bottle when she heard what could only be Quinn shaking his horse body. He must have shifted so he could shake the water off his hide, something she normally wouldn’t have minded except that now she was hit with a spray of water that got her wet all over again.

Not wanting to fight, she opened another bottle of wine and poured some into their chalices.

“Here,” she said, handing his chalice to him before sliding onto the dining table.

She could have borrowed one of his shirts but instead she’d wrapped a long linen sheet around her body just as Quinn wrapped his around his waist.

Quinn dropped into the chair and put his feet up on the table, his legs resting near her ass. She moved the food between them so they could pick at it with their fingers, neither of them in the mood for sitting down properly and eating food like civilized people.

They ate in silence for a while, but when Quinn finally did speak, Gemma was more than ready for him.

“So—” he began, which was when she punched him in the throat, kicked him in the chest, and, as he was falling back in the chair, jumped over him so she could grab him from behind and throw him over the table.

By the time Gemma had sauntered around the table, feeling pretty good about herself, she found Quinn turning blue. A piece of boar had stuck in his throat when she’d punched him.

“Shit!” She ran around behind him and lifted Quinn’s shoulders up. She put her fists on his stomach and brought them in until the meat exploded across the room.

“What the fuck was that?” he roared, proving he could breathe again.

“I thought you wanted to see how fast I could move.”

Rubbing his hand against his throat, Quinn barked, “I know how fast you can move! I’ve fought side by side with you, crazy female!”

“I forgot about that.”

“How? How do you forget about that?”

“I blame the wine.”

“Let’s make it clear then, shall we? I never question your battle skills. Just your sanity. And, when I’m feeling particularly saucy or incredibly bored . . . your standing within your family. That’s it. So do not do that again. At least not to me.”

Gemma scratched her nose to hide her smile.

“And stop smirking at me.”

“I’m not smirking at you,” she lied.

“Liar.”

“Come on.” She stood, held her hand out. “Let’s have some more wine.”