by G. A. Aiken
“Are you really going to sit there all day . . . glowering?”
“That is my plan.”
Quinn sat down and began to wipe his own face but Gemma snatched the clean cloth from him and began to clean him herself. Apparently, he wasn’t “doing it right.” He didn’t know what that meant, but he was too afraid to ask when she was like this. He should have grabbed her before she’d picked up her sword but he’d been slow to react. That was his fault. Because he knew better than most that once she picked up her sword, she was already too pissed for rational thought.
“She bashed in that woman’s head like it was nothing,” Gemma suddenly announced.
“That woman was a sorceress and she did try to kill Keeley.”
“But Keeley should have still talked to her first or at least—”
“Don’t you mean the old Keeley?”
“What?”
“The old Keeley? The one that Caid first met before I even came along. The one that Beatrix hadn’t stabbed yet. That Keeley would have asked questions first and would have tried to stop you from cutting off the sorceress’s head until she saw there was no other option. But this Keeley doesn’t wait. She asks fewer questions. She’s quicker to react. And you’re worried what that means.”
Gemma sat back on her heels, her head dropping.
“She’s not turning into Beatrix, Gemma,” he said, which was the question she was truly asking herself.
And after a long moment of contemplative silence—something these religious types were known for—Gemma asked in a low voice, “But what if she’s becoming something far worse?”
That’s when Quinn laughed. He had to. It was so ridiculous!
Gemma glared at him. “What the fuck’s so funny?”
“You say something so stupid after asking me that question? About Keeley?”
“Well—”
“Not only do you ask it about Keeley but you’re comparing her to gods-damn Beatrix!”
“You forget that Beatrix hasn’t actually done anything evil since she’s been queen.”
“It’s only been two years.”
“Yes, but everyone thought that as soon as she got the crown, the skies would turn to blood and the earth would crack open and unleash all sorts of hell beasts. None of that has happened. In fact, the only one with actual hell beasts is Keeley!”
“Is that what you were hoping for?” he laughed. “The earth to crack open when Beatrix became queen?”
“No! Of course not. But I thought we were fighting against pure evil. Not stopping my sister from sitting on a throne in some fancy dress.”
“Is that really what you think we’re doing?”
“I’m starting to think maybe we should have had our focus on Cyrus all this time. He’s managed to destroy monasteries and churches and sneak onto our land unseen, and nearly kill my sister.”
“He did not nearly kill your sister. We have absolutely no idea how long they were here watching her, but Keeley has known the entire time. She was not surprised when they attacked her.”
“I know.” She briefly looked away before asking, “And that doesn’t bother you? If she knew about them, why didn’t she kill them right away?”
Quinn couldn’t help it, he laughed again.
“What’s so funny?”
“You and my sister. Either you’re yelling at Keeley because she’s making snap decisions and not thinking things through. Or you’re yelling at her because she’s not moving fast enough.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true. The only thing you two ever consistently tell her is that she should kill Beatrix as soon as she sees the whites of her eyes, which you both know she won’t ever do.”
“Which is a mistake.”
He laughed again and stood, stripping off his kilt and chainmail shirt.
“Why am I seeing you naked? I don’t want to see you naked.”
“Of course you do. And I’m getting in the river. I still have blood in my hair.”
“And a little bit of brain at the temples.”
“That’s nice.”
* * *
The man sat down across from Keeley and began to carefully dismantle the hood of his robe. It took some time because it was a complicated endeavor; she assumed it had been arranged so no one could simply rip it off. When he was done and Keeley could see him clearly, she asked, “Did someone do that to you or did you do that to yourself?”
“A combination, I’m afraid. It’s the price one pays for power.”
“Steep price.”
“Yes, but now I have a lot of power.”
“And you’ve brought it here . . . for what reason?”
“I wasn’t sure.” He went through the process of putting his hood back into place. When he was done, he said, “I met your sister. Beatrix. She’s cold. Calculating. I like that.”
“She’s smart too. Smarter than everybody.”
“And she knows it.”
“She does.”
Keeley had nothing else to say to this man, but before she could tell him to go, the only companions guaranteed to cheer her up ran to her side. The pack jumped around her, licking her face and neck, rubbing against her. They’d eaten well today. She didn’t allow them to eat humans, except enemy soldiers during battle and enemies that attacked her like the ones this afternoon. So the wolves were in a very good mood, which cheered her up immensely. In fact, she was so busy laughing and petting them that it took her a few minutes to realize that the man had gone quiet.
“What?” she finally asked, smiling.
“Do you know what you have there?”
She let out a pained sigh. “Not you too. I thought with that face of yours, you’d be a tad less judgmental. But, since you’re not, I’ll tell you what I tell my self-righteous war monk sister. They may come from one of the hells, but they’re animals. And animals are innocent. Even if their eyes are made of flames and their drool is made of blood. It’s not their fault they are what they are. They did not choose this life, and I’m not going to blame them for it. They are my friends and they are welcome here for as long as they want to stay.”
She heard the man sniffing the air. “You do know they’ve recently eaten humans?”
“The ones who tried to kill me. I told them they could. The humans were dead anyway. And the wolves have been very good. At my request, they don’t kill the villagers. So letting them eat my enemies is the least I can do.”
The man abruptly got to his feet. Keeley thought he was going to storm off. Something she was used to from Gemma. But instead, he brushed off his robes, and then he bowed.
“Queen Keeley, I am Ludolf of the Eastern Shores. A blood warlock and at your service.” He took a step closer. “I believe I can be of great assistance to you and your reign.”
Keeley, still petting one of her wolves, stared up at the robed man for at least a minute before she finally asked, “What’s a blood warlock?”
“Uh . . . that’s your question? I offer you the assistance of a warlock and you want to know what a blood warlock is?”
“I’ve never heard of one before. It sounds fascinating.”
“Well . . . let’s see . . . the best way I can explain what I do is to tell you that a blood warlock is something that will greatly annoy your war monk sister.”
“Oh!” Keeley nodded. “Then, Lord Ludolf, which is what I will now call you, we’re already off to a great start.”
* * *
Gemma paced at the river’s edge. “Are you even listening to me?”
“You’re ranting.”
“I am not ranting. I’m just concerned.”
“Concerned about what?”
“That we’re making a mistake.”
Quinn finished rinsing his hair and when he rose from the water, he was centaur. The top half of his horse body was above the water, his tail swinging.
“A mistake about what?”
“Beatrix.”
He started laughing aga
in and Gemma couldn’t stand it anymore.
“What is so fucking funny?”
“She stabbed her own sister in the gut! For a crown. And you think you made a mistake about her? So the war monks . . . ? Not big readers . . . or thinkers . . . ? You left that to the priests? Maybe the nuns?”
“I just expected her evil to be more . . . obvious.”
“Can you get more obvious than stabbing your sister? Keep in mind that she wasn’t positive she’d become queen. She was just really hoping.”
“Maybe we need to rethink our whole plan.”
“I didn’t know we had a plan. I mean . . . not a specific plan.”
Gripping her hands together, she faced Quinn. “Maybe we should consider joining forces with Beatrix and Marius so we can challenge Cyrus together.”
“Huh,” he said before he waded through the water toward her. Massive, majestic, all four legs moving easily through the water as he made his way over to her. His arms reached down and he grabbed her, lifted her up, and heaved Gemma several feet into the river.
* * *
“Perhaps we made a mistake. Coming here.”
“It’s not like we had many choices, Balla.” Aubin took several hot rolls from a plate and sat down on a bench. None of them were comfortable in this pub, but they’d had little choice. Making themselves at home in the queen’s castle didn’t seem like a good idea at the moment and they didn’t know where any survivors of their own sects might have settled in the town. If any of their colleagues had made it this far.
The pub just seemed like the safest place.
“I think we should still speak with the queen ourselves,” Tadesse remarked, sipping his ale.
“Of course, you do, Assassin. I’m sure you find nothing wrong with that giant woman.”
“My people would adorn her with our finest jewels and silk and beg her to breed with our strongest men so we could harness the mad strength of her oversized babies.”
Balla threw her food down. “And now we know why I’ve happily remained a virgin.”
* * *
By the time Gemma swam back to the surface, Quinn was swimming beside her. All four legs happily moving along in the water.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded. As she always demanded. Because she had become convinced that he’d been damaged while still in his mother’s womb!
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Why did you toss me into the water?”
“Because you needed a bath and because you were clearly not thinking rationally.”
“What?”
“If your plan is to join forces with Beatrix, you are not thinking rationally, Gemma. Trust me. And swift-moving river water is good for waking up those that have lost their senses, which you clearly have.”
“I have not lost my—”
“Come on!” he cheered. “Let’s wash your hair!”
Then he dunked her again.
“Gods-dammit, Quinn!” she screamed when he finally let her back up.
* * *
“Is anyone else concerned the witches are not here?” Priska asked in the softest voice, shocking Aubin. He didn’t think she was allowed to speak.
Balla looked around the pub. “Weren’t they with us when we walked in?”
“They were,” Ferdinand said. “But you shouldn’t all be so paranoid! I’m sure they’re just looking around this beautiful town! And I’m sure the queen is quite worthy of our loyalty!”
“Could you keep your voice down?” Balla nearly begged while the rest of them cringed. “We are in her territory.”
“Sorry. Sorry. I just feel you’re all overthinking this.”
“Or perhaps you’re not thinking at all,” Léandre sneered, his tolerance for the truce vicar’s cheery countenance waning with each day.
“I’ll just ask someone,” Ferdinand suggested.
“Ask someone what?” Balla demanded.
“How they feel about their queen.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“We’ll be smart about it.”
“But you’re not smart,” Aubin reminded the vicar. “You’re, in fact, very dumb.”
“There—” He pointed at someone standing at the bar. “I’ll ask that very large young man there.”
“That’s not a man!” Balla whispered desperately as the vicar walked away. “That’s a very large woman!”
* * *
Her chainmail weighed her down but Gemma still wouldn’t let Quinn help her out of the water. Yes! She was being ridiculous, but she didn’t care. She was too angry to be rational.
“Why can’t you be normal?” she raged at him once she’d made it safely back onto land.
“I am normal,” he said, relaxing casually on the ground. He was back in his kilt, his chainmail shirt tossed over his shoulder, unworn boots leaning against his side. His arms rested against his raised knees, his fingers interlaced. “Half man. Half horse. How much more normal can I be?”
He grinned and she wanted to slap that grin off his face.
“Are we rational now?” he asked in the most annoying tone she’d ever heard from him. “Are we having rational, calm thoughts? Or do we need to be dunked again?”
“I should beat you until there’s nothing left but bone!”
“That would be fine as long as you don’t keep thinking it’s a good idea to join forces with Beatrix.”
“Why?”
“Beatrix may not be running around raping novitiates, but she tried to kill your sister. And all Keeley ever did was love and protect her the way a big sister does. That’s not someone you can ever trust. Ever believe. Ever risk your sister’s queendom by trusting. Don’t you see that?”
“What I see is that we have a real problem.”
He shrugged. “All we have are real problems. Why add to them by trusting Beatrix?”
Gemma dropped down next to Quinn and admitted the truth. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I don’t know how we’re going to fight Cyrus. How we’re going to stop this war before it all gets out of hand. And right now, I just feel drained.”
“Gemma, you’ve just been through hell. Of course you’re drained. But my question is why do you think this is all on you? It’s not. Right now we’ve got war priests, divine assassins, temple virgins, and the Abbess. You can’t tell me they won’t have ideas to get us through this.”
“But they just saw the queen bash a sorceress’s head in.”
“You can’t tell me that’s the worst they’ve ever seen. Especially that abbess.”
She shrugged. “I guess you have a point.”
“Let’s talk to them. The worst they can do is walk away. And if they do, so what? We still have Laila, Caid, Cadell, and Farlan. Do you know how much damage they’ve done in their lives? Long before we ever got here? They’ll do whatever is necessary to protect your sister and her queendom.”
Quinn suddenly reached out and took Gemma’s hand. Her first instinct was to snatch it back and punch him in the face, but she fought that instinct and waited to see what he’d say and do.
“Just for once,” he went on, gently, “instead of trying to fix this all on your own . . . instead of trying to come up with a plan when you have absolutely no idea what’s going on and you just saw the destruction of your entire brotherhood, maybe you sit back and you just let Keeley lead. Just this once you trust her to do the right thing, not just for herself, but for her people.”
Gemma hated to admit it to herself, but Quinn was right. She’d been through too much. Had seen too much. And she couldn’t keep trying to rule for Keeley. That wasn’t her place or her right. Keeley was queen, not Gemma.
“Or,” Quinn continued, “you can simply burn Keeley as a witch. Whichever you feel more comfortable with.”
Gemma shook her head and tried not to laugh. “Why are you such a bastard?”
“I was giving you options.”
“Bastard.”
“Come on,” he said, chuckling.
“Let’s get back. You must be starving.”
“No. You’re starving.”
“I am. I am starving. I need to feed.”
“Fair enough. And if nothing else, I need to get this chainmail off for a bit. I feel like I’m wearing my bag of rocks right now.”
They headed back to town but saw some of Ragna’s monk-knights training. Gemma was in no mood to deal with any of them at the moment.
Quinn motioned behind them. “We’ll cut through the hot springs and loop around.”
“There are hot springs?”
“There were when we were done.”
“You built hot springs?”
He shrugged. “Centaurs love hot springs.”
They silently walked, cutting around big boulders and massive trees. Gemma saw several small hot springs and knew she was going to come back at a later time to indulge, because centaurs weren’t the only ones that loved hot springs. The thought of soaking her sore muscles almost had her moaning out loud, which was why she was surprised when she thought she heard someone moaning.
She stopped and so did Quinn; she realized he’d heard it too. They looked at each other and slowly took several steps backward, past a boulder, not bothering to actually turn around, and looked into the hot spring they’d just passed.
“Gods!” Quinn immediately covered his eyes. “I don’t need to see this!”
“Really, Shona?” Gemma demanded of her battle-cohort. “Everything is falling apart and you take time out for fucking?”
Shona rolled her eyes and moved away from her latest conquest.
“And I’m telling Mum!” Quinn promised.
“Telling her what?” Laila wanted to know.
“That you’re being a very disreputable princess.”
“Oh, please! That’s not exactly going to surprise our mother.”
“You can do better, Laila,” Gemma told her.
“Oy! Where’s the loyalty, friend?” Shona wanted to know.
“I don’t understand!” Quinn finally admitted, gesturing between the two war monks. “I thought you lot were virgins.”
It was a long pause, born out of surprise. But when the laughter exploded out of them, it lasted for ages and felt so very good. Gemma didn’t realize how much she’d needed that laugh. More than she needed to soak her sore muscles in a hot spring.
