Moving past two castle guards whose stumbling she ignored, knowing Quinn would catch them in his arms, she continued to follow the man they were protecting. Quinn kept the two guards walking until he could move them off to the side, sitting them under a tree so they looked as if they’d fallen asleep there and had not been poisoned at a distance by the divine assassins.

Gemma put her arm around the small man the castle guards had been shadowing and pressed her fingers against his throat.

“You’re going to be calm and quiet,” she told him as they kept walking while Quinn came up on the man’s other side. “You’re not going to cry out or call any attention to yourself. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“If you do what I tell you, I won’t kill you. If you don’t, you’ll be begging me to kill you.”

CHAPTER 26

Aubin and Léandre met the divine assassins outside the castle walls.

“They’re in,” Faraji said, referring to the war monk and the centaur.

“All right,” Aubin replied. “We’ll get inside from below. Keep the way clear for them and hopefully make sure they don’t get caught. And you?”

“The war monk wants us to kill the queen,” Tadesse said plainly.

Aubin rubbed his eye. “She is not letting that go.”

“She sort of promised the other sister she wouldn’t do it herself unless she had a clear shot.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to do it.”

“No. But I did say I’d at least try.”

“Remember we promised her sister we wouldn’t get killed either.”

“We’ll keep it in mind. Good luck to you.”

“You too.”

The two once mortal enemies amiably separated.

Aubin and Léandre made their way around to the east side of the castle and another secret entrance, this one built into the ground. Aubin approached the guards at the entrance and kindly asked, “Excuse me, good sirs. I was wondering if you could show my brother priest and me where the religious sects are congregating.”

“Yeah. Sure.” One of the guards stepped forward to point out the way and Aubin cut his throat with his dagger.

When the second guard turned, pulling his sword, Léandre stabbed him in the back of the neck.

Together, they quickly opened the grate built into the ground, threw the dead bodies in, and scrambled down after them. They secured the grate once they were inside and pulled the bodies along for a bit so that they weren’t the first thing anyone would see if someone happened to look inside.

Once they’d gone a few feet, they dropped the bodies and kept walking until they eventually arrived at a split in the tunnel.

“Which way should we go?” Léandre asked.

“Let our god tell us.” Aubin threw his black steel spear into the air and waited until it fell. The point landed aiming to the left.

“Left.”

Léandre nodded. “I love the simplicity of our religion. Don’t you?”

“I do, old friend. I do.”

* * *

Hurik walked beside the vicar. She didn’t mind being stuck with Ferdinand. Not as much as the others would, anyway. Besides, it made sense that a nun and a truce vicar would be together. There were many more questions asked here about the religious refugees than in Queen Keeley’s realm. The sight of her wandering around with witches or divine assassins would definitely raise alarms among the castle guards that roamed the streets questioning anyone they felt looked “out of place.”

No. This wasn’t like Queen Keeley’s realm at all. Not that Keeley’s territory didn’t have its own sets of problems and concerns. For one thing, it was definitely a smaller principality. But that wasn’t the only issue that bothered Hurik about this kingdom. There was something different in the air here. In the way the people looked. The energy of those around her.

Hurik had been here before when the Old King lived. He was like most who’d been born and raised knowing he would one day be king and then, when he was king, knew he would always be king. An arrogant fool of a man who believed everyone had been put in his path to be of use to him and nothing more.

Yet . . . nothing felt the same here. Nothing felt right.

“Stand back!” guards called out, pushing merchants and townspeople out of the way. “The queen comes!”

And she did come. A rather plain, small woman who would look more comfortable in a nun’s habit than she did in the pink silk dress with gold trim that she currently wore. Her pale brown hair was piled high on her head and she had an entourage of royals following her, though Hurik had a feeling she had absolutely no interest in them beyond the fact that she was making them follow her. It was hard to believe that this woman was related in any way to Queen Keeley or Brother Gemma. She seemed so small and insignificant compared to them. Not in physical size—though there was truth to that—but in energy and vitality. The young sister that ran around with the tiny steel hammer seemed to be more interesting than this Beatrix, who focused on scrolls as she walked toward the castle.

The vicar began to raise his hand to catch the queen’s attention. They were supposed to be a distraction to the queen while the war monk and centaur searched for information. But Hurik grabbed his arm, halting him.

“What?” Ferdinand asked. “What is it?”

Before she could answer the vicar, the queen’s head snapped up and she was looking right at them with those eyes. Those eyes that didn’t seem to have anything behind them. Yes, there was intelligence. Great intelligence. But no sympathy, no empathy.

Even worse, she continued staring at them. At the two of them specifically.

Hurik lowered her head and led the vicar into a crowd of merchants.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What did you see?”

“Nothing good,” she told him.

* * *

Gemma led her captive to the secret door she’d spotted on the map and was happy to find it still there. Quinn eased it open and took a quick look around.

“It’s clear,” he said, pulling the man inside. Gemma followed, closing the door behind them.

Once inside, Gemma stood in front of the man and said, “I’m here for information and I’ve been told you’re the one to see about it. They say you’re very close to Queen Beatrix.”

“You want me to lead you to her?”

“Well—”

“This is a test, isn’t it?” he suddenly accused, bursting into tears. “Why is she doing this to me? Why is she testing me? I don’t know how else to prove my loyalty. I don’t know what else to do! What does she want from me?”

Gemma wasn’t sure what was happening. Was this all just a performance? Was the man trying to catch her off guard, slice her with an unseen knife when she stepped in to comfort him? She didn’t know. But there were so many tears! And his entire body was shaking.

She looked at Quinn but he just shrugged. This wasn’t exactly going according to plan. A knife to the throat, a few threats. That’s how it was supposed to go.

“I’m not testing you,” Gemma told him. “I don’t work for your queen. I’m really threatening you for information. I promise.”

He’d buried his face in his hands and now lifted a bit so he could look up at her.

“You . . . you’re not?” he asked.

“No. You are truly in danger from me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Then kill me.”

What was happening now?

“Pardon?”

He dropped to his knees. “Kill me. Now. Please. If you have any kindness in your heart at all. Kill me!”

“You know, when I said you would beg me to kill you . . . that was just a threat. You don’t actually have to beg me to kill you. It’s not required.”

“But you could do it. You’re a war monk. It’ll be easy for you. Just do it!”

Gemma grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Get ahold of yourself! I’m not killing you. You haven’t done anything to warrant such a thing.”

“But a war monk kills for his god all the time.”

“That’s not the point. Calm down. Look, lad, I really just want information. If you can provide it, I’ll be on my way. No need to kill you or test you. I get the information and I’m out of your life.”

“What information?”

“I need to know what building project your queen is hiding from the king.”

The man looked away. “You mean the tunnel.”

“See? Already we’re helping each other and without any bloodshed. Isn’t that nice?” Gemma couldn’t believe this. She was supposed to be threatening the man not soothing him or making him feel better about his life with Beatrix. “Now . . . what can you tell me about this tunnel she’s having built?”

“Very little. She knows I fear her husband. Knows that if he asks me anything, I’ll tell him because I’m terrified of him.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no. No need to apologize. Or cry. Please don’t cry. Just breathe. Just breathe through it.” Gemma briefly wondered if she should kill him out of mercy, but instead asked, “Does she keep all the information in her head or does she still hide things in plain sight?”

His eyes narrowed in distrust while he began to breathe heavily in fear. “How do you know she does that unless you’re testing me?”

Gemma sighed. “Are we back here again?”

“Yes. Because how else would you know that unless she told you?”

“Because I am her sister.”

“Prove it.”

Gemma let out a long sigh. “Fine. She’s got a scar behind her ear. That’s where I once slammed her head into the dining table, but my sister Keeley caught me, and the next thing I knew, we were in a fistfight on the kitchen floor. Anyway, if anyone happened to ask Beatrix about the scar, her response was always to stare at that person until they became so frightened, they never asked about it again. Although the reason I slammed her head on that table . . . she knows what she did.”