Their mother no longer considered Beatrix part of her girls. Not anymore.

“Excuse me, Brother Gemma?” Gemma faced the pacifist monk she’d met all those weeks ago. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother, Brother. What can I do for you?”

“Some of the sects—”

“Want to leave now that Cyrus is dead?”

The monk seemed to withdraw a bit, glancing down at the ground. “No. Actually. Does the queen want them to go?”

“Oh, gods, no. No, no, no. I just assumed many would want to return to their monasteries and convents now that Cyrus is dead and most of his army destroyed. I wasn’t trying to rush them out. I know my sister would never ask them to leave.”

“Some of them have nowhere to go. Their sanctuaries have been destroyed and new buildings will take time to rebuild. Others just need time to . . . feel safe again.”

“They can stay as long as they need to.”

“Are you sure Queen Keeley would be—”

“Oy! Keeley!” Gemma called out.

“What?” her sister called back from across the main hall.

“Mind if the religious sects stick around for a bit? You know, until they feel comfortable?”

“Of course! Long as they want. Let them know, Brother, would you?”

“Absolutely, Your Majesty.”

“See?” Gemma said, glancing at the pint of ale someone shoved into her hand. “Told you she wouldn’t mind. I think she likes having all of you here. She finds it very comforting. Very soothing. All these different religious representatives being able to live in the same place and not only get along, but thrive. It makes Keeley feel good to be part of that.”

Gemma grabbed the monk’s arm and yanked him out of the way just as the Abbess hit the ground where he stood, her hand covering her mouth, blood dripping from behind her fingers.

Her mouth open, Gemma gawked at Ragna, who stood behind the Abbess.

“Did you just punch a nun in the face?” she asked her fellow war monk.

“She deserved it.”

“She’s a nun!”

A throat cleared and Gemma heard Katla say, “Sorry to interrupt, but we have some fellow brothers here from other orders who wanted to meet with our current grand master.”

Although they were from different orders, Gemma immediately recognized the other war monks who’d survived the attempted purge by Cyrus. But the way they were glowering at Ragna while Aubin and Ferdinand helped Hurik off the floor, there was no way they’d be willing to have a civil conversation with her now. Or possibly ever.

“Get them settled with our brothers, would you, Katla?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you staring at, Brother Damian?” Ragna challenged. “I think we all remember how you defiled that temple virgin!”

Gemma dragged Ragna a few feet away and demanded, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Ragna barked back. “Absolutely nothing is wrong with me.”

Gemma watched Ragna storm out of the castle. She went to Hurik’s side where Aubin was carefully wiping her split lip and the vicar was pressing snow from outside onto her swollen jaw.

“What did you say to her?” Gemma asked.

“Nothing I hadn’t said before.”

“Hurik.”

“I simply asked if her god had spoken to her lately.”

“What’s so funny?” Gemma asked when Aubin and Balla snorted a laugh and then quickly turned away.

“Oh. You haven’t heard the story, have you?”

“What story?”

Hurik waved at Keeley across the room. “Queen Keeley, dear? Could you come here a moment.”

Keeley rushed over. “Are you all right? I saw Ragna hit you. Do you want me to hit her back for you? I don’t mind hitting her.”

“It’s all right, dear. I’m fine. But you haven’t told your sister the newest story about your hammer.”

“Oh, right!”

Keeley reached back and pulled her hammer out of her holster and held it in front of Gemma between her two hands.

“Look at the work the dwarves did on my hammer before I faced down Cyrus—”

“Not that, dear. The other story.”

Keeley briefly frowned. “Oh! Yeah.” Keeley suddenly grinned. The kind of grin she used to get when she was a little girl. “A god said ‘nice work’ about my hammer. Not this hammer. But this hammer before the dwarves worked on it. Nice work. A god said that.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Tell her which god, Keeley.”

“Oh. Yeah. The one you like. Um . . . I keep forgetting his name.”

And Gemma felt all the blood drain from her face.

“A . . . a war god told you this?”

“Yeah. More-something.”

“Morthwyl? You spoke to Morthwyl?”

“Yes! And he said nice work! About my hammer! But, you know, that could be why Ragna’s a little bitchy these days. She did not take it well when she realized she’d missed him.”

“Missed him?”

“Yeah. He’d already dragged off Cyrus’s soul. I guess I should have been nicer about it, but he’d just complimented my work and I couldn’t hide my excitement.”

“And why should you?” Hurik asked. “If you’re excited, you should show it. Don’t you ever be ashamed of that.”

“Awww. Thank you, Sister.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

“Oh, look.” Keeley pointed. “Centaurs are here. Farlan wanted to see the changes the dwarves made to my new hammer after I told him it was lighter.”

Gemma waited until her sister had gone before facing the only ones she knew would understand: her team of sworn enemies.

“There’s a part of me,” she told them, “that is appalled and disgusted that my heretic sister is the one who now has spoken to two gods in the last two years, while I have spoken to none. See?” she said, pointing. “There she is playing with her demon puppy friends. And yet . . . the fact that it bothers Brother Ragna so much has given me more joy than possibly anything else in my entire monastic life. And I honestly do not know how to manage those inconsistent feelings.”

“That is a tough one, Gemma.” Aubin patted her shoulder. “But we all think you should allow yourself to enjoy this time. You have definitely earned it.”

“Besides,” Hurik said, “after seeing Ragna punch a defenseless nun in the face, you can now put someone in charge of your order who is fair-minded and willing to learn. Not a psychotic nutbag that everyone hates.”

“Is that why you did this?” she asked the nun.

“Mostly. And because it brought great warmth to my heart.”

“That’s all well and good, Abbess. But who, exactly, am I going to find to be the grand master of our order?”

Hurik and the others stared at Gemma for several long moments until Hurik said, “Sooo, you’re not really a quick-witted girl, I see.”

* * *

Quinn saw Agathon standing outside the main hall, attempting not to have a panic attack. He was trying his best, but Quinn could see the struggle.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“The queen is inside, but I was afraid to say anything to her. I was afraid she’d find out who I was and decide to have me killed. I didn’t realize I still wanted to live.”

“Living’s good.”

“Now that I’m away from Beatrix, it seems like a new option.”

“Maybe you should hold off on meeting the queen tonight.”

“Can I do that?”

“Of course you can.”

“Won’t she be insulted?”

“She won’t care.”

“Because she already hates me?”

“She doesn’t know you, so she won’t care.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

Keeley and Caid walked out of the main hall.

“Quinn! I’m so glad you came back alive and well.” She kissed him and gave him a hug. “And not a word to my father about what you found inside the tunnel. Understand?” she whispered against his ear.

“Not a word.”

“Big feast tonight. Mary made pie for you.”

“Of course she did. She loves me.”

“Like Gemma does?” Caid mocked.

Keeley blinked. “Gemma loves you?”

“He thinks so.”

“Quinn never lies. He’s annoyingly honest. If he says my sister loves him, she loves him. Although why anyone would want to be with a monk . . .” She grimaced and kissed Quinn again. “We’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“Oh, Keeley, this is Agathon. We rescued him from Beatrix.”

“From Beatrix? Poor Agathon. Well . . . welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”

The pair walked off and Quinn winked at a stunned Agathon. “Told you.”

“Her sister is Beatrix?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“The shoulders alone . . .”

Chuckling, Quinn went inside and discovered Gemma sitting on the dining table nursing a pint of ale.

He sat next to her, their feet dangling. “My brother and sister do not believe you’re madly in love with me.”

“My sister has now spoken to two gods, including the one I worship. I haven’t even spoken to one.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I know!” She sipped her ale. “And your brother’s a muttering know-it-all.”

“He is a know-it-all!”

Gemma handed him the ale and he took a sip, passed it back to her.

“There’s a push for me to become grand master of my order.”

“Really? I thought it would be Ragna.”

“It probably was going to be. But then she punched a nun. In front of other war monks.”