“I might have overreacted.”

“Gods,” Caid guessed. “This isn’t about you and Grandfather, is it? The plan you two have to dine with our gods? You know Grandfather’s not dead yet.”

“That’s a very real plan, Caid!”

Laila rolled her eyes. “What did you say to her, Quinn?”

“I may have suggested I was disgusted by the whole thing and told her not to raise me from the dead for any of her unholy plans.”

“Quinn!”

“I already said I overreacted!”

Laughing, Caid rested his arms on the rampart wall. “You’re an ass.”

“I just didn’t realize she was destroying souls.”

“All magicks require sacrifice.”

“Yes, Laila. So everyone keeps bloody telling me.”

“You should apologize.”

“Why should I apologize? She never apologizes to me for anything.”

“You apologize because you probably hurt her feelings, which isn’t easy to do. A war monk is not someone with a lot of feelings to hurt. But you two are close—”

“We are not.”

“—so I’m sure your saying something like that to her was far more hurtful to Gemma than if it came from anyone else.”

“Oy,” Caid called out. “You two. Come here.”

His siblings stood next to him and he pointed, but he really didn’t have to. They were so obvious. Two more blood warlocks, the only difference between them, the color of their robes. One all in blue. The other in yellow.

“Did Keeley say anything about more of them coming here?”

“I don’t think she knew. She was too worried about those fucking dogs.”

“Wolves.”

“Shut up, Quinn.”

“You get Keeley. I’ll secure the main hall. Quinn, get Gemma. And when you see her . . . apologize.”

“Even if I don’t think I should—”

“Quinn!”

“Why is everyone snarling at me?”

“I’m shocked you actually asked that question,” Caid said to his brother. “You know . . . with a straight face.”

* * *

In a fresh set of clothes, Gemma opened her bedroom door to find Quinn standing there.

“What?” she asked, barely able to look at him.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by suggesting you’re a soulless monster that’s only happy when you’re destroying the souls of others—”

“Wait . . . what?”

“—and two more blood warlocks showed up just now. Caid, Laila, and I just saw them from the ramparts.”

Gemma grabbed her sword belt and bolted out the door, snarling over her shoulder at Quinn, “And I am not a soulless monster, you ridiculous horse’s ass.”

“You have to know that’s not really an insult to me.”

“Oh, shut up, Quinn!”

CHAPTER 23

By the time Gemma reached the last few steps leading into the main hall, nearly everyone who needed to be involved in what was coming was there. Including the two new additions, Ludolf’s fellow blood warlocks. The three of them were deep in a private conversation in the corner, making everyone nervous.

Gemma was about to take those final steps into the hall but she stopped and faced Quinn one more time, so she could inform him in no uncertain terms through her gritted teeth, “You and I both know that was no sort of worthy apology!”

“Stop hitting me!”

She hadn’t realized she’d started slapping his chest even before she’d begun yelling at him but once she did, she didn’t really care. He deserved it.

“When you’re ready to apologize like a proper . . .”

Quinn smirked. “You were going to say like a proper man, weren’t you?”

“Centaur,” she finished, “you know where I am.”

“Destroying someone else’s soul? Owww!”

She walked away, fighting the urge to shake out her now throbbing hand. She’d forgotten that punching him in the stomach could be just as painful as punching him in the face.

When Gemma reached Keeley’s side, the warlocks finished their conversation and separated. The two newcomers moved to the large open doors. They faced Keeley and bowed in her direction. Keeley, being Keeley, waved in return. “It was nice meeting you!” she called out.

That caused the warlocks a moment of confusion. Probably trying to figure out if she was being sarcastic or plotting their deaths . . . or both. But, of course, Keeley wasn’t. She meant that “It was nice meeting you,” or she wouldn’t have said it.

Once they were gone—moving a little faster than they’d come—Ludolf moved to the dining table and unrolled a large map across it.

“As all of you know,” he began, “the original goal was a simple one. To track down Cyrus the Honored so he could be dealt with in any way Queen Keeley saw fit. We all thought this task would take some time. It hasn’t. We know exactly where he is and it turns out that where Cyrus is, is a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Caid asked.

Ludolf swiped his red-gloved hand across an area on the map that had the centaurs immediately looking at one another and then back at Keeley.

“Cyrus’s legion has made camp here and Cyrus is definitely with them.”

“What’s the concern, other than it’s right in our territory?”

“It’s the location,” Laila replied. “A lot of water comes from that region. Pours down into all the connected streams and rivers and lakes that travel as far down as—” She looked around. “Here. Into this valley.”

“What about the Amichai Mountains? Your people?”

“He’d have to go into the mountains to get to our water supply. That would mean he’d have to deal with my people, the dwarves, the elves . . . all of us.”

“But,” Keeley guessed, “he can cut off our water supply from where he is.”

“He can.”

“And eventually destroy us from thirst alone.”

“Yes.”

Keeley nodded and stared at the map. Then, she announced, “All right.” She looked around at everyone. “All of you know what to do. We move out in two hours.”

Gemma looked around. Everyone in the room seemed to understand their role . . . except her.

She looked at Quinn. “Do you know what the plan is?”

“To follow you?”

Turning, Gemma realized that all those who’d traveled with her were standing around, waiting for her. Even the Abbess. Which meant . . .

“Gods-dammit!”

Gemma followed Keeley up to the room she shared with Caid.

“Are you planning to leave me here?” Gemma demanded, slamming the door behind her.

“No,” Keeley said calmly, pulling out the leather armor that had been made for her two years ago by the centaurs; a hammer and anvil crest were burned onto the leather breastplate. “You’re leaving for the Old King’s castle.” Keeley stopped dressing and faced her sister. “Aren’t you?”

“You still want me to do that? Now?”

“Yes, now. What did you think?”

“That you’d want me to go with you to kill Cyrus since he’s way more important in the big scheme of things.”

“Nothing is more important than finding out what Beatrix is up to, Gemma. Nothing. And you’re the only one I can trust to get it done. But remember what I told you. Killing Beatrix isn’t your goal. Finding out what she’s doing and stopping it is. Do you understand?”

“You’re serious. You don’t want me to go with you.”

“I’d love for you to come with me.”

“Good, then—”

“But I know what my instincts are telling me. What they’re screaming at me. If we wait on this, it’s a mistake.”

“I . . . uh . . . was going to set off in a few days.”

“Leave now. When we do. Tonight.”

Gemma closed her eyes, cracked her neck. She silently reminded herself that Keeley was queen; that Keeley leads. And all Gemma had to do as a war monk, a princess, and even a younger sister was to follow Keeley’s orders. No matter how ridiculous those orders might be!

“Fine. And who’s going with you?”

“My army. The centaurs.”

“And?” Gemma pushed.

“Ragna invited herself earlier in the day.”

“And you didn’t think I’d take that personally?”

“It was the only way the bitch would agree to leave your war monks here to protect the other sects.”

“At least agree to let my battle-cohorts go with you. I want them watching your back.”

“Do I have to talk to them?”

“After the death-cult discussion? No.”

“That’s fine then. But Keran stays behind to watch out for the family. If nothing else, she won’t let Archie mercy-kill the children when Mum and Da’s backs are turned.”

“Good plan. I’ll get everyone ready.”

When Gemma reached the bedroom door, Keeley was suddenly there, wrapping her arms around her.

“What are you doing?” Gemma asked, unable to keep the wary tone out of her voice.

“Hugging you.”

“Are you that sure I’m going to die?”

“No, but . . .”

“But? There’s a but?”

Keeley swung Gemma around and grabbed her by the shoulders. “No matter what happens in that castle. No matter what Beatrix is up to or what she says to piss you the fuck off, I want you to get out of there alive. Do you understand me? Are you listening?”

“Yes, I’m listening. I’m just not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You always think you want to kill Beatrix. But nothing would bring her more joy in this world . . . than to kill you.” Keeley rested her hand against Gemma’s cheek. “Don’t let her.”