Thankfully, he wasn’t alone. Gemma was beside him, also panting and sweating; her legs splayed wide open. For a brief moment, he thought she’d fallen asleep. Until she asked, “Want some bread?”

“What?”

“Hungry? I’m starving.” She closed her legs and sat up, stretching her arms over her head and yawning.

“After that you’re . . . hungry?”

“Yes.” She held out a loaf of bread to him. “You should eat too.”

“Why?”

“Because when we’re done eating, we’re going to do it again. Probably a few times. It’s been a while for me.” She raised a brow at him. “You knew that, right?”

He took the bread from her. “Uh . . . no?”

“Well, it’s called war monk stamina,” she explained. “It exists.”

“Oh. Great.”

“Don’t worry, centaur,” she promised, leaning down to kiss him. “I’ll make it worth every bit of sleep you lose.”

CHAPTER 25

Setting up this meeting with the dwarves on their way to Cyrus’s camp had been Keeley’s idea. One Caid and Laila had not supported. But she knew she needed Mundric’s help.

She’d sent a messenger ahead to ask Mundric to meet her at a halfway spot between their two kingdoms. An underground dwarven location since he was doing her a favor. From her talks with Mundric two years ago, she knew this cavern had its own massive forge.

She’d been planning to meet with the dwarves long before she’d thought she’d have to face off against Cyrus but the sudden change in her situation had pushed up the schedule, forcing her to send her army ahead while she headed to the mountain range.

Grinning as she caught sight of him, she opened her arms and hugged King Mundric. The king held still.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Hugging you.”

“Dwarves don’t hug.”

“Well, I do.” She pulled back, ignoring the stares she was getting from his retinue of soldiers and advisors. “I’m just so glad to see you!”

“You are?” he asked.

“You are?” Caid asked.

“Yes,” she replied to everyone. “I like you.”

“You do?” the king asked.

“You do?” Caid repeated.

“Both of you stop that!” Keeley snapped.

Mundric glanced behind her and gave a barely there nod to the centaurs. Although the races of the Amichai Mountains weren’t remotely friendly to one another, they were loyal when it came to keeping their lands safe from humans. Keeley had the loyalty of the centaurs and the dwarves, and with their aid she hoped to keep out King Marius, but Beatrix had the elves. And so far, neither of the sisters had the loyalty of the barbarians. Then again, no one had the loyalty of the barbarians.

“I heard you’ve been working with the stonemason dwarves,” Mundric said.

“I have. My uncle Archie knows them.”

“A lot of them are my cousins.”

“I’ll try to be nicer to them then.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t like my stonemason cousins.”

Gripping his walking stick, Mundric asked, “So why are you here, human Queen? I thought you would only call on my army when you had to face off against King Marius. Is that happening?”

“No. I have a problem with his brother. Cyrus the Honored.”

“The Religion Killer, you mean.”

Keeley stopped walking. “You know about him?”

“Everyone knows about him.”

“And yet you weren’t planning to do anything about him?”

“Human religions aren’t my concern.” Mundric chuckled. “You look so disappointed in me.”

“Because I am. You can’t just ignore what’s going on around you because it’s happening to humans and you don’t like humans. Isn’t that a little simplistic?”

“I like simplistic. And no more speeches, human Queen. What do you want from me if it’s not my army?”

Keeley pulled her hammer out from the holster secured to her back. She held it in front of him.

“A better hammer?” he asked.

“No!” She held her hammer to her chest. “I love my hammer. And it loves me.”

“This just got so strange,” she heard Caid mutter behind her.

“The question is, does she love you more than that hammer?” Laila asked.

Keeley swung her hammer around until she could point it at the two centaurs behind her. “Are you two done?”

“If we must be,” Laila teased.

“Anyway,” Keeley went on, bringing her hammer back around and holding it between her hands, “I need your help with my hammer. You see, Cyrus has stolen a lot of artifacts from the human religious sects he’s destroyed. He and his wizards have apparently combined the artifacts to somehow create a protective barrier around himself that magicks cannot penetrate.”

“Is that why you’re the one who’s going to kill him? Because there’s nothing magickal about you?”

“Yes. Well,” she added, “that and he sent assassins for me. That was just rude. Didn’t even face me himself.” She let out a breath to release her anger. “Anyway, I don’t think I can have anything magickal on me when I face him. At least that’s what the magickal ones around me have told me. So I need you to make this hammer more powerful without making it magickal. So it’s magickal without being magickal. Understand?”

“Of course I understand.”

“You understood that?” Caid questioned.

“There’s only one here with the skill to help you.” Mundric started walking. “Come along, Queen Keeley. You two wait here.”

“Keeley,” Caid called out.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’d better be,” her centaur warned.

* * *

Back in his kilt and chainmail, Quinn gulped his tea and ate his fried boar while the rest of the travel party stumbled into the dining room, glaring at the sun blasting through the tall windows and cursing the days they were born.

He’d warned them not to drink too much wine, but they hadn’t listened, and now here they were. The only one who seemed unaffected was the Abbess and he’d watched her put quite a few glasses away last night before he’d left for Gemma’s room. And yet she’d entered the dining room with her usual rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and soft steps as if nothing bothered her.

“Brightest day, all,” she greeted, her hands tucked into her white robes.

“Is the yelling necessary, Your Holiness?” Balla barked.

“Are we sure those servants didn’t poison the wine?” little Priska asked, her head cradled in both hands. “Because I think . . .” She moved her hands to her mouth, then bolted from the room.

“I have something to soothe the stomach,” the Abbess proposed.

“I thought you’d want us to suffer,” Ima said into the table since that’s where her head rested at the moment.

“Perhaps on another day. But we have far to go and I must travel with all of you. I’d prefer not to spend all my time tiptoeing my horse around your vomit.”

The Abbess stood. “I’ll get my bag.”

“Morning!” Gemma exclaimed as she swooped into the room, her grin wide. The servants, despite her misstep the evening before, had done a fine job of cleaning her white tunic and chainmail. She fairly sparkled. “How is everyone this fair morning?”

“You’re in a much better mood,” the Abbess noted.

“I am in a much better mood. How good of you to notice.” She clapped her hands together and Quinn briefly feared everyone was going to attack her. “Now, we are on the road within the hour. Be ready. Where’s the vicar?”

“I’m here, Brother Gemma!”

“Vicar!”

“Brother!”

Father Aubin slammed his fist on the table. “If everyone does not stop yelling—”

“You’re the only one yelling, Father Aubin.” Gemma motioned to the vicar. “I want to see that map of the Old King’s castle.”

She took one of the scrolls from the vicar’s hands and, after moving the plates of food and chalices aside, she spread it out. They all leaned over the parchment, studying it closely.

“We don’t know what changes your sister has made since she’s moved in there,” Quinn reminded Gemma as they studied the detailed maps.

“So when we get in, we find someone to help us out.”

She rolled up the scroll and handed it back to the vicar. “Everyone get your things. We go. Now.”

Quinn caught her arm but waited until everyone else left the room. When they were alone, he kissed her, then shoved a piece of toasted bread into her mouth before reminding her that “this isn’t about killing Beatrix.”

Gemma swallowed a large gulp of tea from Quinn’s cup before asking, “Why do you and my sister keep saying that to me?”

“Oh, come on, Gemma. Why do you think?”

* * *

Keeley watched Queen Vulfegundis, master blacksmith of her guild, work on Keeley’s hammer.

Every once in a while, Keeley would tear her eyes away from the beauty of watching a true master at her craft, simply to smile at Vulfegundis’s husband, Mundric.

Using only metals the dwarves had mined themselves over the eons and a heat so powerful Keeley couldn’t even stand as close as she wanted without worrying about losing skin, the dwarven queen added layers to Keeley’s hammer again and again until, finally, she took it off to a table with several other dwarf women, where they spent another two hours on it.

Keeley couldn’t see what they were doing but she patiently waited.

When Vulfegundis finally returned, she casually held the hammer in one hand. No fancy pillow held the weapon. No massive giant covered in jewels walked it toward Keeley while musicians played dramatic music. It was just the queen, walking along, occasionally swinging the hammer to ensure she still liked the weight.