The brothers who were in the room watched the intruders with horror, but they wouldn’t leave these strangers alone among their important work. So they stood by and waited for the real ugliness to set in.

Agathon turned back to the table where the war monk had found the scrolls.

“Look. I think I found a—”

The door swung open and the castle guards stood there.

“Lord Agathon, are you . . .”

He knew, as soon as he saw the expressions on the guards’ faces change from relief at finding the queen’s Follower of Her Word to shock at the presence of the others, that something was terribly wrong.

“Get out!” he yelled at his brothers. “Get out now!”

That’s when the war monk grabbed Agathon from behind and put a knife to his throat. Confusing, since the Follower seemed to be helping the two outsiders.

“Oh, uh . . . help,” Agathon suddenly announced. “Yes. Help me! I’m in, uh . . . great danger!”

With the blade against Agathon’s throat and the Amichai brandishing his spear, the three went out a side door, slamming it behind them and securing something against it. The guards ran after them, hurling themselves against the wood until it splintered and broke so they could keep up the chase.

A few minutes later, the rest of his brothers returned.

“Are you all right?” one of them asked.

“I am.”

“Do you know what they took?”

“No. Because we didn’t see anything,” he told them. “They were simply . . . trying to escape.”

“They were?”

He blew out a breath. “They were, Brothers. They absolutely were, and that’s exactly what we will tell anyone who asks us anything.”

* * *

Gemma bolted down a back staircase, pulling poor Agathon behind her. Quinn took the lead, spearing any guards that got in their way.

“Should we be killing them?” Quinn asked, after he’d killed a few more.

“Yes.” Now that they had what they needed, she wanted Beatrix to believe they’d come here to kill her. Not to steal information. She didn’t want her sister to follow her to where they were going. At least not yet.

“Where would my sister normally be now, Agathon?”

“Main hall most likely.”

“We’re looking for her now?” Quinn asked, turning and shifting to centaur, simply so he could use his hind legs to kick several soldiers in the chest and out of their way.

“You knew the plan would change, Quinn, if we got to this point. Or were you not listening again?”

“Should I actually answer that?” he asked, taking his human form again.

They continued through halls, down more backstairs, and through a tunnel until they pushed open a door and practically tumbled into the main hall. All activity stopped and all attention turned on them.

Beatrix’s head tilted to the side as she stared at the doorway. When she spotted Agathon, her expression didn’t change. But then her gaze locked with Gemma’s, and across the hall the sisters stared at each other.

Gemma’s sister had matured. She looked a little older. More royal. Colder. This was definitely where Beatrix belonged.

The guards moved to swarm them, and Gemma pulled Agathon close and again put the knife to his throat.

“Hold!” Beatrix commanded, halting everyone in the room.

Leaning back in her chair, Beatrix said, “You didn’t really think this was going to work, did you?”

“You know I had to try,” Gemma replied.

“Cyrus is out there burning down convents and monasteries and you’re worried about me? Keeley must be so disappointed in you. Trying to kill your own sister.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“She doesn’t know you’re here? The out-of-control princess. How not like you.”

“What are we waiting for?” Marius demanded. “Kill them.”

“She has Agathon.”

“You can get a new Follower anywhere. I’ll get you one. Guards! On my orders—”

“No, no,” the queen interrupted, the back of her hand gently touching the king’s shoulder. “I want to see her do it.”

“What?” the king asked.

Beatrix gestured to Gemma. “You heard my husband, Gemma. He can get me a new Follower. I don’t need Agathon. So you do it. You slit his throat.” She motioned to the guards. “Step away. All of you move back. Now go on, Brother Gemma. Do it.”

Gemma let out a sigh. “But you already know I can’t.”

Beatrix glanced at her guards and said dismissively, “Now you can kill them all.”

The ink-black snakes, poison dripping from their fangs, appeared before her so fast, Beatrix didn’t have time to move. But the long-haired man next to her cut off their heads so quickly Gemma wasn’t even sure what weapon he used. He pushed Beatrix back into the guards who stood behind the king and queen and put himself protectively in front of her.

Quinn shifted to centaur and used his hind legs to batter the guards behind him, his spear tearing open the ones in front. Gemma buried her knife into the man closest to her and yanked out her sword to gut a guard that came within range.

She shoved Agathon over to Quinn. “Get on!” she ordered.

“What?”

“Get on!” She didn’t wait for Agathon to understand; she simply shoved him onto Quinn’s back. She would not leave him behind to face Beatrix’s wrath.

She turned and saw the Abbess was tearing a guard’s chest open with her split spear. The truce vicar was battering his way through the panicked royals using mostly his brawn. And the assassins were slaughtering the guards any way they could to protect the Abbess and get her outside with the vicar.

“Protect him, Quinn!” Gemma yelled before she charged across the main hall toward her sister.

She grabbed a shield and used it to block spears and swords, while using her own sword to cut a swath through the castle guards.

Her sister watched her, a small group of guards surrounding her and that man with the long hair. The king had already fought his way outside, probably to summon more guards or even his hardened soldiers, meaning Gemma was running out of time.

She slashed at a throat and jumped onto the table where her sister had been sitting. The long-haired man raised his hands and began to chant. Gemma flicked her hand and sent him reeling across the room. She flicked her hand the other way and the guards surrounding her sister flew, leaving Beatrix standing there alone.

Beatrix didn’t even flinch, which somehow made this easier for Gemma.

She secured her sword and was charging across the table when she sensed something behind her. Gemma turned and raised her shield at the same time, blocking the soldier’s sword just before it could meet with her head.

She fought back as Marius’s soldiers advanced on her, then jumped off the table and landed on the ground. But when she glanced over her shoulder, her sister was gone.

More blows came, the shield providing cover until it was finally torn from her hand. She still had her sword, but she had a wall at her back and about twenty soldiers in front—

A black spear was thrust up from the ground, ramming into a soldier’s groin. She hadn’t seen the grate until it was pushed away and the two war priests emerged from the tunnel underneath. They rammed their spears into the closest enemies and pushed back, allowing Gemma to place her hands on several bodies. She chanted and unleashed her god’s power. The dead soldiers jerked back to life and Gemma moved to a few more bodies, raised them too. She then picked up her sword, motioned to the priests and the Abbess, and together they ran for the front doors.

The soldiers outside tried to stop them but they were tackled by their dead cohorts, who chewed their flesh and ripped them open.

Soldiers on horseback charged after them through the streets, ignoring the commoners going about their daily lives. They ran those people down simply because they’d been ordered to stop Gemma and the others.

Thankfully, powerful streaks of lightning rammed into the riders, knocking them off their horses, and damaging parts of buildings so that rubble fell on them.

Gemma and her team reached the town gates but more riders were already closing in. That’s when the ground began to shake, spooking their horses. The horses went up on their hind legs, tossing off their riders or, even worse, landing on their riders.

Then there were screams and the people began to run. A swirling mass of air and dust drew near and Gemma only had time to yell, “Hold on!” before their entire group was lifted up and carried away, then unceremoniously dropped near their mounts.

* * *

Coughing and spitting out the dirt and debris that filled his mouth, Quinn was just grateful to feel ground beneath his ass. Because it was official . . . he did not like to fly.

“Sorry about that!” he heard Balla call out. “Never have managed to get that spinning air spell quite right.”

He was the first to get to his hooves. He made sure Agathon had survived and then checked on all the others. To his surprise, they’d all made it out alive.

Even . . .

“You idiot!” he yelled at Gemma.

She didn’t even bother to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Beatrix was right there. I had to try.”

“Horseshit! You knew when you attacked that even if you killed her, you wouldn’t make it out alive. You knew! But you went anyway. If it hadn’t been for the priests, you’d be dead right now.”

“You’re welcome,” Aubin said, walking by them.

“She was right there!” Gemma argued. “All smug. How could I just walk away?”

Quinn simply glared down at her. It was all he could do, really. He knew no words would penetrate that thick Smythe skull of hers.

“He wants to hit you,” Balla told her.

“Of course he wants to hit her,” Ima chimed in. “I’d want to hit her.”

“But he’s too good a centaur to do such a thing. To knock some sense into you.”