The Princess Knight

by Aiken G. A.

  It wasn’t surprising to see a horse wander into a castle. It was something that happened all the time in most lands. What was surprising was that at least half the horse was mostly dead. That’s what Balla found so concerning. The centaurs immediately moved away from the beast as did the priests, monks, and assassins.

  Brother Gemma immediately noticed the horse, her gaze widening in panic. But she quickly hid that panic when the queen looked at her.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the queen asked her sister.

  “Nothing. Just thinking about how we’re going to manage all this.”

  “It’ll work out fine,” the queen said, focusing again on the wolf pups.

  Brother Gemma pointed at her younger sister Ainsley and then the horse.

  Ainsley, wisely, shook her head.

  Again, Brother Gemma silently pointed at the horselike thing, which had stopped to graze off the food scraps from the floor, and Ainsley again shook her head. But when the queen again looked up, the war monk immediately dropped her arms and smiled.

  The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling at me? What are you up to?”

  “What? Nothing. You’ve become so paranoid. It’s not very attractive.”

  “This coming from you? The most paranoid person I know.” The war monk’s head tilted to the side and the queen quickly amended, “Except, of course, for Uncle Archie.”

  “Thank you.”

  With great ease, the queen lifted the heavy steel basket from the table and took a step. But just as quickly she stopped and without turning around asked, “What the unholy fuck is that thing behind me?”

  Brother Gemma shrugged. “What thing?”

  “You lying cow . . .” Queen Keeley shook her head. “No. I’m not . . . we’re not . . .” She continued to shake her head. “No, no, no. You know what I’m not going to do, my sister? I’m not going to base any judgment simply on what that thing looks like. It may look unholy and unnatural but I’m not going to judge it based on how it looks because it is still an animal. Or, at least it was. I’m making this decision because, unlike others who shall remain nameless, I am not shallow and hypocritical. Am I, Quinn?” she called out.

  “You are not, my beautiful queen! And how I adore you for such an open-minded belief system!”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my bucket of beautiful—”

  “Evil demon dogs from the very pits of hell?” Brother Gemma flatly asked.

  The queen’s eyes narrowed again at her sister. “Callous cow,” she muttered before she carried her load of demon puppies up the stairs.

  Once the queen had disappeared from the third-floor landing into one of the rooms, Brother Gemma rushed over to the beast and treated it as some favored thing.

  “Told you she’d call you a hypocrite,” the blond-maned centaur said to the war monk.

  “I don’t want to discuss it.”

  Father Aubin made his way to Balla’s side, briefly glancing around before quietly asking her, “So what are you two going to do?”

  Balla briefly glanced at Priska before replying, “Whatever Queen Keeley needs us to do.”

  CHAPTER 20

  As the sheep was ripped from her hands, Gemma slammed the stable doors closed, resting her back against them and doing her best to ignore the desperate squealing coming from inside.

  It finally stopped, but her relief was shattered by a simple “Are you all right?” that nearly had her running off into the night until she realized it was just Quinn.

  “Thank Morthwyl, it’s you,” she gasped. “I thought Kriegszorn had managed to”—she flicked her hands dramatically in front of her—“materialize in front of me.”

  “And speak?”

  “Possibly!”

  Kriegszorn kicked the inside stable doors, sending Gemma flying into Quinn’s body. He caught hold of her and pulled her away.

  “She’s not going to happily stay in there,” Quinn guessed.

  “I see that now, but I didn’t want to put her in the main stables.”

  “Because she’ll eat all the other horses?”

  Gemma winced. “Probably. But Da reminded me we have this single stable for our problem biters and figured she would do well here, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “What’s going on?” Keeley demanded, storming toward them. “I can hear her all the way in the house.”

  Only Keeley would call Kriegszorn “her” right out of the gate. Everyone else had been calling her “it” but no, not Keeley. Never Keeley.

  “She’s unhappy,” Gemma admitted. “And I’m not sure why.”

  “How could you live with Da for sixteen years and not understand animals? How is that even possible?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Quinn put his hands on the sisters’ shoulders. “If you two start bickering . . . Kriegszorn will tear that stable down.”

  Gemma knew Quinn was right, but that didn’t explain why her sister suddenly grabbed at her and began pulling her tunic.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Attempting to help you!”

  “How? By assaulting me?”

  “I need your shirt. The one under your chainmail.”

  “Why?”

  “Just give it to me.”

  Gemma slapped her sister’s hands away and pulled off her tunic, chainmail, and finally her dirty white cotton shirt. She handed it to her sister.

  “It’s a bit ripe,” she admitted. “I’ve been wearing it for days and haven’t had a chance to change.”

  “I dunked her in the river earlier, though.” Quinn added. “That should help.”

  “That was just rude.”

  Keeley laughed and opened the stable doors.

  “Keel—”

  “I’ll be fine. Just wait here.”

  She disappeared into the stable. Although her “Gods! What did she eat?” was a bit disconcerting.

  “It was a sheep,” Gemma replied.

  “Poor sheep!”

  Pulling the chainmail over her head, Gemma noticed for the first time that she needed a haircut. A random, nonsensical thought, considering everything that was going on at the moment. She forgot all about it a few seconds later when Keeley stepped out of the stable alive and well.

  Gemma was grateful. She really didn’t want to explain to her parents how she’d let her sister be eaten by her half-dead warhorse.

  “There,” Keeley said. “That should keep her quiet for the night.”

  “What did you do?” Gemma asked.

  “Gave her your shirt. So she has your scent. That’s all she wants. To know you’re around.”

  Keeley rested her hands on her hips. “Can’t you . . . I don’t know . . . fix her somehow? At least so she has more . . . flesh? If nothing else, that way you could ride her into battle again. She’s used to having a job and she’d be less terrifying to the children.”

  “What children?”

  “All children.”

  Her sister had a point.

  “Maybe those witches can help. That Adela seems nice.”

  Gemma felt a muscle in her cheek twitch. “Sure. The witches.”

  Keeley headed back to the castle. “Oh!” She kept moving but turned around and walked backward. “During the day, you can put her in the ring. We’ll reinforce it a bit so she doesn’t wander off and terrorize the townspeople. That way she’s not trapped inside all day. She’ll like that,” she added with a smile.

  Keeley gave a wave, turned back around, and continued toward the castle.

  “Good gods in the heavens.”

  “What?” Quinn asked Gemma.

  “Keeley likes Kriegszorn.”

  “Of course she likes Kriegszorn,” Quinn insisted. “She’s Keeley.”

  * * *

  Quinn watched Gemma take one step toward the main hall but immediately stop. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh so deep and heartfelt, he knew he couldn’t let her go to the castle. Because they were all
in there. The priests, the assassins, the virgins, the witches. Arguing, complaining, eating. Just being annoying. She was sick of them and he didn’t blame her. She’d gone from the horror of seeing her monastery burned to the ground while those she loved dearly rode off to their deaths to dealing with these pains in the ass. Useful pains in the ass but still . . .

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing her by the hood of her chainmail hauberk.

  “Where?”

  He didn’t answer, just led her around the building until they reached one of the secret doors Archie had put in so the family could escape if need be.

  He led her through several tunnels until they reached the kitchens.

  “My uncle Archie came up with that?”

  “He did.”

  “I thought only monks had such tunnels.”

  “Mary, my darling,” Quinn said to the royal cook.

  She laughed. “Don’t even bother. Your food is over there. Enough for both of you. I had to send food up for the entire family. They didn’t want to come down now that the religious convention is happening in the main hall. Not that I blame them. Your lot sure is a chatty bunch,” she said to Gemma.

  “I know. Sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “No. But when you get a lot of us in a room without a vow of silence, this is what happens. A lot of philosophizing about what the gods want. What devotion means. What it doesn’t. They’ll be up all night. Do not give them the best wine. The cheap stuff will do.”

  “Do they drink?”

  “I know that vicar does.”

  “No pie?” Quinn asked, looking at what Mary had provided them.

  “You ask for pie?” Gemma questioned. Shocked. “There’s a whole lamb there.”

  “I love her pie. She knows I love her pie. I want my pie.”

  Mary moved across her kitchen and took a cloth off a tray, revealing six pies. Quinn threw his arms into the air.

  “Yes!”

  “Why do you baby him?” Gemma asked.

  “Because she loves me.”

  “He does remind me of me boy.”

  “You do have other children, though, yes? Better children?” Quinn glared. “That was just mean.”

  Mary brought out two wicker baskets and began loading the food with Quinn’s and Gemma’s help.

  “My room or yours?” Gemma asked.

  “Better. Come on.”

  Quinn picked up a basket and headed out, briefly stopping to kiss Mary on her forehead.

  After they’d been walking for a while, Gemma asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Don’t be impatient.”

  “Not impatient. Exhausted.”

  “Then trust me.”

  “But you know I don’t.”

  “That’s just hurtful.”

  And not exactly true. There were few these days she trusted at her back as much as she trusted the centaur, which really surprised her. The first month she’d known him, she couldn’t count how many times she’d wanted him dead. Now she could go weeks without even thinking about it.

  He led her down a street with adorable houses that were some of the first built when Keeley took over. He opened the door of one and invited her inside. It took him a moment but once he had the pitfire going, Gemma blinked in surprise.

  It was quite lovely. With a decent-sized bed under a window with closed curtains, a nice wood table, and the biggest in-ground bathtub she’d ever seen.

  Gemma pointed. “What is that?”

  “I paid the stonemason dwarves to make it for me. It connects to the river. I open this and fresh water flows in. And I open this and it drains into the garden outside. And under here”—they both crouched—“is the fire that heats the water.”

  “That’s all wonderful and good but . . . why is it so big?”

  Quinn grinned and shifted. That’s when she saw that the tub was so big, he could get his giant horse’s ass into it.

  “You’re ridiculous,” she told him.

  “I know. But you still want to try it out, don’t you?”

  “Well . . . it is heated.”

  * * *

  The priests and others might be getting the cheap castle wine but Quinn had several bottles of the expensive stuff stowed away here in his little house. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, though, usually preferring ale to wine. But the wine was a perfect choice for a night like this.

  He thought that Gemma would insist on getting in the tub by herself but as she stripped off her chainmail, she asked, “Aren’t you getting in?” Then quickly added, “Not with your horse ass, though.”

  Then he remembered that she’d lived for a decade in a monastery and on battlefields. Maybe she was simply used to being around naked men.

  So they soaked in the hot water, drank wine, and ate the hard cheese Mary had packed with everything else.

  “Maybe Keeley’s right,” Gemma mused.

  “You have never said that before.”

  “I mean about healing Kriegszorn.”

  “Giving her her life back?”

  “That I don’t think I can do.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “But maybe give her more . . .”

  “Skin?”

  “Yeah. It’ll take skills far superior to mine though, I’m afraid.”

  “Maybe the witches could help you like Keeley suggested.”

  Gemma immediately sneered. “I don’t trust those witches.”

  “I don’t trust Adela. Don’t know anything about the other two.”

  “So it’s not just me.”

  “No. She’s up to something. And it’s not because she suddenly wants to be helpful to your sister.”

  “Ten gold pieces says she’ll be gone by morning after she takes what she wants.”

  “You don’t seem too worried about her being a possible risk to your family.”

  Now she snickered. “Ragna is looking for an excuse to burn her the way she burned her grandmother. Adela wouldn’t dare go near my family.”

  “If you lose Adela or all the witches,” he asked, “will that make it more difficult for you to travel to the Old King’s castle?”

  “The witches have their uses, but we can make do with what we have.”

  “And, of course, I’m going with you.”

  She shrugged. “Okay.”

  Quinn immediately leaned away from her before asking, “You’re not going to argue about that with me?”

  “Argue about what?”

  “About me going with you on this mission?”

  “Why would I argue with you about that?”

  “You argue about everything.”

  “I do not argue about everything! That is absolutely wrong!”

  “At this moment, you are arguing about arguing.”

  “Well, I’m not arguing about this.”

  “Why? Are you plotting something?”

  “Now you’re just irritating me and it’s starting to ruin my expensive wine.”

  Quinn ate more cheese. “And you’re really going to go on this mission?”

  “Keeley actually said I could kill Beatrix. Of course I’m going to go.”

  “She said only if you can get out alive. I’m holding you to that, because I know you. When it comes to Beatrix, you get all obsessive. And wasn’t it just a few hours ago you were ready to join forces with the bitch?”

  “No!” She ate a piece of cheese. “Okay, yes, I was. But this is my chance to find out what Beatrix is really up to, if anything. Besides, I didn’t know Keeley wasn’t sleeping.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You don’t know my sister. Keeley can sleep through almost anything. One time she went to see a new batch of piglets in the barn and that’s where we found her a few hours later. Sleeping with the piglets and their mother. It was adorable and disgusting in equal measure, but there she was. So if she’s not sleeping, even with Caid right next to her . . . something is definitely wrong. And
if it’s Beatrix, now is the time to find out. Then I won’t have any more doubts.”

  “Good.”

  “It is good. I also have a question and I finally feel drunk enough to ask.”

  Quinn sighed. “Of course you have a question. You’re a Smythe. All of you have questions.”

  She moved around in the water until she was right in front of him.

  “All right, here it is. The fact that you thought I was a virgin . . . is that why you didn’t want to see me naked?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “You went out of your way to lure Keeley into that naked river bath with the other centaurs but not me.”

  “Have you seen your sister? Have you seen the way that woman is built? I had to see her unencumbered with clothes,” he admitted. “I had to. And I was not disappointed. Of course, I could have lured your mother instead, but I find your father fairly terrifying. He’s extremely attached to her.”

  “And I’m not built like my sister at all, is that it?”

  “No. You’re more compact. Plus your scars are much more terrifying.”

  “Should I be insulted by that?”

  “It’s not an insult. Until recently, your sister’s scars were all ‘oops, I bumped into an anvil’ or ‘the horse bit me’ or ‘I dropped that sword I made against my chest.’ All your scars, however, are ‘Not only am I lucky to have survived, but I destroyed everything that was in my way and salted the ground my enemies walked upon.’ I didn’t necessarily want to know the backstories. Especially since the last few months you tended to get maudlin anytime the monastery thing came up.”

  “I did not.”

  “Oh, yes, you did. That’s why we all thought you were drinking. In fact, I was shocked to discover that maudlin is not how you are all the time. But that when you were in the monastery, according to Brother Cries-a-Lot you were often the life of the party. So it’s just since you’ve been home with Keeley that you’ve been like this. What makes you so sad, Brother Gemma? Is it Keeley’s rise to power? Did you want to be queen?”

  “That’s it. I’m done.”

  Gemma threw back the rest of her wine and stood. No, she was not built like her sister, but he didn’t mind. He was fascinated by Keeley the way he was fascinated by anything he’d never seen before. And Keeley was unique.