When the vicar’s blade tore through Adela’s chest, Ima had the feeling he was one of the few who could have killed her body. The others were too tainted by war, by the blood of battle chaos. But not the vicar. He worked to stop war; to stop the chaos.

Now, however, the queen had the puppy again, Adela’s soul had been dragged to hell, and Ima and Wassa were alone with those who had been known to happily burn witches.

As she brushed Wassa’s hair from her face and checked the cuts and bruises on her cheek and neck, Ima saw chainmail boots standing in front of her. She looked up and found Brother Gemma of the Order of Righteous Valor standing over them. The rest of their travel companions were standing behind her.

Slowly, the war monk crouched in front of them. That hard face glared at them, looking her and Wassa over. Wassa’s fingers dug into Ima’s forearm.

They couldn’t escape. All mystical doorways had been closed by the gods themselves to prevent Cyrus’s minions from transporting themselves. So all they could do was fight with what power they had left.

“What do you know about horses?” the war monk asked.

“Uh . . .”

“And necromancy?”

“Well—”

“And raising creatures from the dead. But raising them alive. Not raising them to be undead. Do you know anything about that?”

Ima glanced at Wassa and then back at the war monk. “What?”

* * *

“You really fucked your horse up, didn’t you?”

Gemma shoved the chuckling Quinn away before turning to the remaining witches.

“Can you help me or not?”

Ima watched Kriegszorn run in the training circle. “Is this really your focus right now?”

“I want to take her with me. I hate the thought of leaving her all alone here.”

“Because you love her so much or you’re afraid she’ll eat your family?”

Gemma didn’t bother turning around this time at the sound of laughter, merely reached out and slapped Quinn until he stepped away.

“Again, can you help or not? We’re leaving in a few days.”

“What exactly did you do to her when you raised her?” Wassa asked.

“I’m still not sure. I loved my Kriegszorn. If I’d had any other option, I never would have done that to her. But we needed a way out.”

“What do you mean?” Ainsley asked. “That you never would have done that to her?”

“I would never raise a brother or a friend. And Kriegszorn was a friend.”

“Why wouldn’t you raise a friend?” Ainsley asked.

Gemma exchanged glances with the witches. She really didn’t want to get into this with her younger sister.

Unfortunately, when they’d come to the stable to discuss the issue with the witches, the horse was already out in the training ring and she hadn’t been alone.

“Answer your little sister,” Ragna pushed.

“Maybe you should stay out of this.”

“Someone answer me.”

Ragna opened her mouth but Gemma would be damned before she’d let the master general tell her sister anything. So she quickly jumped in.

“The process of raising a body destroys the soul, Ainsley.”

“Meaning you destroyed Kriegszorn’s soul?”

“Some of it,” Wassa muttered.

“Your immense guilt over doing that to her is probably what has caused such a . . .” Ima waved at the horse romping in the training circle. Half of her alive, half of her dead.

“Abomination?” Ainsley asked.

Ima shook her head. “I don’t think we can fix that, War Monk.”

Wassa turned her head to the side, studying Kriegszorn. “We might be able to mask it, though.”

“You think?”

“Call her over,” Wassa told Gemma.

Gemma clicked her tongue against her teeth and Kriegszorn immediately trotted to her, bringing her head over the fence so Gemma could pet her, which of course she did. Even missing half her face, how could Gemma not pet her? Even half-dead, she was still so gods-damn loyal!

Wassa gently placed her hands on Kriegszorn’s side. The one with actual flesh on it. She closed her eyes and, after a few seconds, she said to Ima, “I was right. This thing still has part of her soul.”

“What does that even mean?” Gemma asked.

“We have no idea,” Ima admitted. “But I am curious to find out.”

“Give us a few hours,” Wassa said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Gemma walked away from the training ring. She wanted to change her clothes before Keeley’s meeting.

“I’m going hunting,” Ainsley said, swinging her bow off her shoulder. “Any requests?”

“Boar.”

“I was thinking elk.”

“Then why did you even ask me?” Gemma shot back at Ainsley.

Smirking, her sister ran off and Gemma rolled her eyes. She was in no mood for her younger sister’s annoying . . .

“Is there a reason you’re following me?” she asked Ragna.

“I wasn’t following, just thought we were all heading back to the castle. Together. Like friends.”

“Okay, what do you want?”

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“Friends? Seriously? Try again.”

“Fine. I just wanted to remind you before this meeting where your loyalties lie.”

“Oh . . . that’s easy. Not with you.”

Ragna forced a smile. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“I’m adorable. My mother told me so.”

“Just remember, your actions at this meeting today may affect the future of our order.”

“Bullshit. My sister won’t do anything to harm the brotherhood. She doesn’t have a problem with the war monks. She just has a problem with you. She hates you. As long as you keep that in mind, everything should be fine.”

With a grunt, Ragna stomped away and Gemma did an allover shake. Like a dog trying to shake off mud he’d accidentally rolled in. Maybe a mission with her brotherhood’s most hated enemies wasn’t a bad idea after all. It could be just what she needed.

Deep in her thoughts about Ragna, it took a few minutes for Gemma to realize they were nearly back at the castle and Quinn hadn’t said a word. That wasn’t like him. Especially after she had one of her confrontations with Ragna.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” she finally said to him.

“You destroy their souls,” Quinn said flatly, surprising Gemma.

Gemma stopped walking yet again. “What?”

“You destroy their souls. When you raise the dead.”

“Oh. Well . . . yes. All magicks require sacrifice.”

“Except you’re not the one sacrificing. The poor dead bloke on the ground is.”

“I didn’t want to lose an eye or half a lung for my power. Necro-mancing seemed the easiest choice, and war monks have to pick something. I only use it on my enemies.”

“And your horse.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t want to do it.”

“But you did, knowing full well what you were doing to her.”

Gemma gazed at Quinn. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

“You destroyed her soul.”

“And if I could do it again—”

“But you already did it.” He shook his head, looked off. “Just . . . no matter what happens, don’t ever do that to me.”

Startled, Gemma took a step back. “Excuse me?”

“I think I was very clear. Don’t ever raise me. Don’t destroy my soul. I have plans for my afterlife. They involve my grandfather and a lovely feast with the centaur gods. Can’t do that if you destroy my soul because you had no choice.”

Insulted, livid, and to be quite honest, just hurt, Gemma spun around and stomped off.

“Don’t look at me like that!” the centaur yelled after her. “I don’t think I’m being unreasonable with that request! Kriegszorn trusted you too! And that hand gesture is beneath you, Princess War Monk!”

* * *

Caid was standing on one of the ramparts, looking down toward the front of the castle. He eventually noticed his brother sitting on the rampart, with his back against one wall and his legs against the other; arms resting on his raised knees. At first, Caid was going to ignore him, but then he wondered if Quinn was up on the ramparts for the same reason as Caid was.

He went over to him and asked, “You feel it too, eh?”

“What?”

“I said you feel it too.”

“Feel what?”

Caid frowned. “Why do you sound like me? Are you imitating me again? You know I hate when you do that.”

When Quinn only gazed at him blankly, Caid actually began to worry about his brother. And he never worried about Quinn. Ever.

“All right, that’s it. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Just leave me alone.”

Deciding he couldn’t do that, Caid walked the ramparts until he saw his sister below. He put two fingers between his lips and whistled. A few minutes later, she was crouching beside Quinn.

“What did you do to him?” she demanded, glaring at Caid.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Are you sure? You can be mean.”

“I go out of my way to ignore him.”

“Caid didn’t do anything,” Quinn finally admitted.

“See?”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I found out Gemma destroys souls. When she raises the dead.”

“Well,” Laila said, shrugging. “She is a war monk.”

“This is what you’re sitting here looking so pathetic about?” Caid demanded. “I thought you had a real problem.”

“When I found out . . . I didn’t handle it well.”

“What do you mean?”