“Which nun?” Quinn asked.

“Hurik.”

“Okay. I was worried it was, like, a nun-nun. Not Hurik, who can actually take it.”

“No. It was Hurik. And she actually goaded Ragna.”

“Of course she did.”

“Because she wants me to be the grand master.”

“Then be the grand master.”

Gemma shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I haven’t even been general of an army yet.”

“Yes, you have. You are, at this moment, general of a legion in your sister’s army.”

“I forgot about that.”

“Because you were too drunk?”

“Shut up.”

Quinn laughed, then added, “If you really hate it, you can always resign later.”

“Good point. The reality is the next few months and, possibly, years are going to be tough for everybody. We just need to get through them. I still need to be here for Keeley, though. She cannot lose against Beatrix.”

“No, she cannot. None of us can.”

“Oh, and my father can never know—”

“I know.”

“Gemma,” Katla called out from the doorway. “Brother Damian wants to see someone in charge. Now.”

“Why?”

“To talk about Ragna.”

“Dammit.” She let out a breath and then, without even looking, chastised their travel companions, “All of you stop staring at me right this second! I haven’t made up my mind and stop pushing me!”

“Oy, Gemma!”

“Katla, I’m coming.”

“Not that. I’m sending you something.” Katla handed a scroll to a servant who rushed it across the room to Gemma.

Holding it up, Gemma asked, “What is this?”

But Katla was already gone. She looked down at the seal and Quinn heard her breath catch.

“The scroll from Joshua. The one Katla tried to give me earlier.”

With shaking hands, Gemma opened the sealed scroll, read its contents, and immediately began laughing.

She held the scroll against her chest; shining, tear-filled eyes looking at Quinn.

“What does it say?”

Clearing her throat, she asked, “What do you think it might say?”

Quinn shrugged. “Uh . . . love you always? You were the daughter I always wanted? You can find my gold fortune in the mountains behind the monastery. Here’s the map?”

Gemma turned the scroll toward him but he read what was written out loud. “Take the bloody job, spoiled child.”

Wiping tears from her cheeks and laughing, she said, “Fucking Joshua.”

“I would have liked him, wouldn’t I?” he asked.

“You would have. And he would have adored you.”

She tucked the precious scroll into the bag attached to her sword belt and wiped any remaining tears off her face and from her eyes.

With that, she jumped off the table and started to walk away, but she came back and cupped Quinn’s face in her hands. They gazed at each other a long moment before she went up on her toes and he leaned down a bit. They kissed and Quinn realized he’d attached himself to a true challenge. Their lives would never be easy. Thankfully, he had never been one for an easy life.

“I won’t be long,” she said against his mouth.

He watched her disappear out the door and didn’t realize he was being watched until he reached for another pint sitting on a tray near his leg. That’s when he saw his sister a few feet away with her mouth hanging open.

Quinn smirked, sipped his ale, and said, “Told you.”

EPILOGUE

Keeley walked toward the training ring with Gemma and Ainsley, and already Ainsley was complaining.

“Why are we up this early?” she asked again. “The suns aren’t even up yet.”

“You wanted to be trained to fight.”

“Training can’t happen at a decent hour?”

“If she’s going to act like this . . .” Gemma began but her voice trailed off and Keeley immediately saw why. It was the woman standing in the middle of the empty training ring.

She was turning in a slow circle, appearing quite confused.

“Excuse me?” Keeley called out as she and her sisters moved to the ring. “Are you all right? Do you need some help?”

The woman slowly faced her and Gemma defensively stepped in front of Keeley while Keeley pushed Ainsley behind her. Their reactions weren’t surprising considering the two swords strapped to the woman’s back and all the scars on her bare arms, neck, and face.

“What do you want?” Gemma asked the woman.

“I’m looking for the queen of these lands,” she said. “The one who has slaves. The one who has child . . . slaves.”

Keeley opened her mouth to tell the woman she was not that queen when something giant landed hard behind her, shaking not just the ground beneath her feet but the ground for miles. Then it happened again. And again. And again. And again. The buildings around them shook each time. The horses in the stables panicked, kicking at their stalls, some breaking loose and running.

Soldiers ran out of their barracks and froze. Many pissed themselves. Others immediately ran back inside, screaming.

Dragons. In different colors. Different sizes. But all in armor and armed. With wings and horns and fangs. Ready for war.

The dragons continued landing until they completely encircled the four women.

“Invaders!” one of her men called from the watch towers. “Invaders!”

All Keeley could think was, “Little late,” until she realized he wasn’t talking about the dragons.

“Marius’s men! Invade—gods in heaven!” Seeing the dragons for the first time, the alarm-raiser panicked and ran from the dragon poking its snout into the tower. Unfortunately, there was nowhere really to run except out of the tower and to his death. So that was tragic.

The side gates were battered open and Marius’s riders charged in.

The woman said to no one in particular, “Deal with them.”

And a silver dragon lowered its head, turned its long neck toward the invaders, and unleashed a line of flame that engulfed Marius’s small army, wiping them out in seconds.

When the dragon was done, settling back into its original position, Keeley noticed she heard nothing but silence. No birds. No screaming. Not even the wind. Just silence.

The woman walked closer and Keeley realized for the first time that she was gazing into the eyes of a madwoman.

Gemma put her hand on her sheathed sword. If the woman saw her, she didn’t show it. She just abruptly stopped.

“I want the bitch queen who has child slaves,” the woman practically whispered, “and I want her NOWWWWW!” which she ended on a hysterical bellow.

Even though Keeley wasn’t the “bitch queen” with child slaves, she really didn’t know how to respond to that kind of insanity. But she didn’t have to. Because the dragons did.

“Uh-oh,” a gold one said. “Annwyl’s gone ’round the bend. Again.”

“I thought we were going to play nice with these”—the silver one glanced around, appearing vaguely disgusted—“people.”

“Annwyl,” a black dragon calmly stated, “you promised. You promised you were going to be calm and rational. Does this seem calm and rational to you? Does it?”

The madwoman spun around and faced the black dragon. He towered over her the way Keeley’s castle towered over her. And yet, she stomped across the training ring to that giant black dragon and screamed, “I am sick of being calm and rational! They’re using children as slaves! What are we waiting for? Kill all of them!”

“Anyone else enjoy,” one dragon muttered to another behind Keeley, “how Annwyl acts like she’s ever been calm and rational?” The two dragons began to chuckle.

“I know. Like this is all out of the ordinary somehow.”

That comment brought out snorts and more stifled laughter from the surrounding dragons.

Keeley leaned toward Gemma and whispered against her ear the only thing she could think to tell her sister in this very dire moment, “By Soiffart’s mighty hammer, we are so fucked.”