by Aiken G. A.
“Why?”
“Why do they do anything?” Caid just wanted to get into bed. With Keeley. And sleep for the next ten weeks or so. He’d assumed she’d want to do the same thing until she started obsessing over that bloody throne.
But the Smythe women were not to be dissuaded by something as simple as exhaustion and hunger.
They worked hard, ignoring Caid’s offers of help. Finally, though, when they’d nearly gotten the thing up, Caid and Quinn joined in to heave the ridiculous throne off its moorings and away from the floor—
Gasping in shock, they all shoved the throne back into place.
Laila jerked awake again, sitting up straight. “What? What’s wrong?”
She frowned, watching their expressions, and pushed away from the table.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Something the jarl left, I guess.”
“What was that?” Together, the four of them moved the throne again.
Laila gazed down into the hole built beneath it. “Holy shit!”
“Yeah,” Keeley said, grinning.
“Is it all gold?”
“I think I see some gems in there. Look at those rubies.”
“How did you know about this?” Laila asked.
“Someone told us.”
“It’s been here all this time?”
Keeley shrugged. “I guess. But it belongs to the town, yes?” When they all just stared at her, she asked, “What?”
“You’re the queen, dumbass,” Gemma sighed out. “It’s your gold.”
“Oh. Well . . . that’s good.” She blinked and stared off, forcing Caid to look away before he started laughing. Because he kind of knew what was coming next. “But what do I do with it?”
“Run your kingdom?” Laila asked.
“Build your army?” Quinn suggested.
“Reinforce the town and this longhouse to protect yourself and all those within?” Caid offered.
Keeley smiled. “Oh, those are lovely ideas!”
That’s when the War Monk slapped the new queen in the back of the head. “Idiot.”
* * *
It took a few days, but Keeley knew as soon as they arrived. Running out of the longhouse, she threw herself into her father’s good arm; the other still trapped in a sling so he could heal from his arrow wounds.
They burst into mutual tears, hugging each other tight while her mother and sister hugged and rolled their eyes at the emotional outburst.
“That’s not the way for a proper queen to act,” her mother softly chastised.
“Are you going to start shoving that in my face now?”
“If I have to.”
“Come on, you lot. No bickering between me girls.” Her father set Keeley on the ground and kissed her forehead.
“Da,” she began, “about Beatrix—”
“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “We won’t be talking about that now. Maybe not ever,” he added before he turned to hug Gemma. Understanding how her father felt and not wanting to upset him, Keeley went ahead and hugged her mother. Then, of course, came all the children.
The whole ordeal went on for a bit. The hugging and kissing and occasional sobbing. And started all over again when Keran came running over.
While that was going on, Keeley went to Hearn. He’d also accompanied her family and Keeley would be eternally grateful for his care and protection of them. Although he didn’t appreciate when she hugged him and kissed his face several times while his offspring watched.
Of course, that only made Keeley do it more.
“Stop it, woman!” Hearn ordered, pushing her away. But when he thought it was over, Gemma threw herself at him. Then Keran, both of them kissing and hugging him too.
* * *
It was official now, Caid realized, when Keeley winked at him as she tortured his father with affection and then got her sister and cousin to join in. It was official that he loved her. How could he not love a woman who purposely tortured his father?
“Stop it!” Hearn bellowed, pulling away from the human women. “I’ll not stand for this!”
“Father,” Laila suggested, taking his hand, “come. Let’s go to the pub and get you some ale.”
“Can I come, Father?” Quinn asked.
“No.”
“Excellent! I’m coming anyway!”
Caid knew he had to go as well, but he stopped long enough to slip his arm around Keeley’s waist and kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back later.”
“Good. We’re having a feast in honor of my family and your father.”
Caid gave her another kiss and followed his own kin. But before he could catch up, Angus was by his side. Caid smiled at him. “It’s good to see you again, sir—ack!”
Angus’s very strong arm trapped his neck as the farmer growled, “I’ll only say this once, boy. You break my daughter’s heart and I’ll strip the skin from your bones. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir,” Caid gasped out. “I understand.”
“Good!” Angus released him. “And welcome to the family!”
* * *
Keeley sat on the stoop in front of the longhouse, the lead demon wolf asleep at her feet. She’d thought he and his friends would have left her by now, but no. The newer ones had left, wanting to return to their underworld, but the lead wolf and his pack, they’d stayed. As had the gray mare. Although the mare refused the stables and instead stayed in the nearby forest. But she did come when Keeley called for her, which was very nice.
“You wanted to see me, niece?” Archibald asked.
“Yes. I have a job for you.”
“And do you have an axe for me?”
“You’ll get your axe, but I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy for the forge?”
“Are you trying to make me cry?” she demanded.
“Sorry, sorry,” he quickly replied, appearing ashamed. “I forgot who I was dealing with. So what do you need?”
“A stonemason.”
“To make your longhouse here fancy?”
“No. Not to make anything fancy. I need the battlements and house walls rebuilt. The escape tunnels need to be reinforced. A moat and traps set for any enemies that may attack our new home. I need all of that. You up for the challenge?”
His head tilted, his expression a little confused. “So I can stay here? With you lot?”
“Did you think I’d throw me own uncle out on the street?”
“Yes.”
Keeley laughed. “Go find Gemma, you crazy bastard. She has drawn up the plans. And no beating your workers,” she yelled after him.
“I only beat them when they deserve it!”
Keeley was about to argue about that, but she was in no mood. She still had so much to do.
About to get to her feet, Keeley stopped when her mother came out of the longhouse and sat beside her.
“How are you doing?” her mother asked.
“A lot on my mind. The children—”
“They’re settling. Stop worrying about them. They’re fine. Just glad to be back with you.”
“I still need to rebuild our old town. So you lot can go home.”
“Keeley, you are our home. We go with you. And you can worry about our old town later. And stop feeling like it’s your fault. This was Beatrix’s work. We all know that.”
“Yes. I know you do. Da still won’t talk about it, though. He doesn’t even want Beatrix’s name mentioned.”
“We were staying with the centaurs before we came here. Gaira and Hearn told us what Beatrix did to you.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing else to know. Not for us.”
“Mum, I’m sor—”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear it. Ever. Understand?”
Keeley gave a quick nod.
“Now, I have something for you.”
Her mother reached into a bag she had hanging from her shoulder and pulled something out.
“I made this for you at a centaur’s forge. It helped me work
out my rage at what Straton’s men did to your father.”
“Just so you know, Straton got his due.”
“I know. I saw his head outside the town walls. Nice touch by the way. Reminds me of me old gran.” She bumped Keeley’s shoulder with her own. “Here. Take this.”
Keeley looked down at what her mother held out for her and she blinked in surprise.
“A crown?”
“Fit for a Blacksmith Queen. That is what they’re calling you, you know? The Blacksmith Queen. A perfect name, I think, for one of the Smythe clan.”
Keeley held the crown in her hands. It was beautiful. Made of the finest steel with rubies inset into it every few inches. Perhaps her mother’s finest work.
“Put it on,” her mother urged.
“I won’t look silly?”
“You think it’s ugly?”
“No! I’ve just never worn anything fancy before, Mum. You know me. I never look right in jewelry or anything.”
“Give it a try anyway. For me.”
With a deep breath, Keeley put the crown on her head. Her mother stood in front of her, adjusted the crown a bit. She stepped back to take a long look.
“Yes. That works nicely. I’ll also make you a helmet so you can wear the crown into battle.”
“All right.”
Her mother leaned in and adjusted the crown a bit more.
“All right,” she said when she finished. “Now we’re all done.”
“All done?”
“You just had your coronation, luv,” her mother said wryly. “Welcome to the world, Queen Keeley.”
With a pat on her shoulder, her mother headed back into the longhouse.
“Aren’t I supposed to get a stick or scepter or something at my coronation?”
“Just use your bloody hammer!” her mother yelled back. “What do you think this is?”
Keeley shrugged at that. “Well . . . it is an awesome hammer.”
About the Author
Originally from Long Island, New York Times bestselling author G. A. Aiken has resigned herself to West Coast living, which involves healthy food, mostly sunny days, and lots of guys not wearing shirts when they really should be. Writing as Shelly Laurenston, she is also the creator of the wickedly funny Pride series for Brava. For more info about G. A. Aiken’s dangerously and arrogantly sexy dragons, go to www.gaaiken.com.
