by Aiken G. A.
“Answer your little sister,” Ragna pushed.
“Maybe you should stay out of this.”
“Someone answer me.”
Ragna opened her mouth but Gemma would be damned before she’d let the master general tell her sister anything. So she quickly jumped in.
“The process of raising a body destroys the soul, Ainsley.”
“Meaning you destroyed Kriegszorn’s soul?”
“Some of it,” Wassa muttered.
“Your immense guilt over doing that to her is probably what has caused such a . . .” Ima waved at the horse romping in the training circle. Half of her alive, half of her dead.
“Abomination?” Ainsley asked.
Ima shook her head. “I don’t think we can fix that, War Monk.”
Wassa turned her head to the side, studying Kriegszorn. “We might be able to mask it, though.”
“You think?”
“Call her over,” Wassa told Gemma.
Gemma clicked her tongue against her teeth and Kriegszorn immediately trotted to her, bringing her head over the fence so Gemma could pet her, which of course she did. Even missing half her face, how could Gemma not pet her? Even half-dead, she was still so gods-damn loyal!
Wassa gently placed her hands on Kriegszorn’s side. The one with actual flesh on it. She closed her eyes and, after a few seconds, she said to Ima, “I was right. This thing still has part of her soul.”
“What does that even mean?” Gemma asked.
“We have no idea,” Ima admitted. “But I am curious to find out.”
“Give us a few hours,” Wassa said. “We’ll see what we can do.”
Gemma walked away from the training ring. She wanted to change her clothes before Keeley’s meeting.
“I’m going hunting,” Ainsley said, swinging her bow off her shoulder. “Any requests?”
“Boar.”
“I was thinking elk.”
“Then why did you even ask me?” Gemma shot back at Ainsley.
Smirking, her sister ran off and Gemma rolled her eyes. She was in no mood for her younger sister’s annoying . . .
“Is there a reason you’re following me?” she asked Ragna.
“I wasn’t following, just thought we were all heading back to the castle. Together. Like friends.”
“Okay, what do you want?”
“What makes you think I want anything?”
“Friends? Seriously? Try again.”
“Fine. I just wanted to remind you before this meeting where your loyalties lie.”
“Oh . . . that’s easy. Not with you.”
Ragna forced a smile. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“I’m adorable. My mother told me so.”
“Just remember, your actions at this meeting today may affect the future of our order.”
“Bullshit. My sister won’t do anything to harm the brotherhood. She doesn’t have a problem with the war monks. She just has a problem with you. She hates you. As long as you keep that in mind, everything should be fine.”
With a grunt, Ragna stomped away and Gemma did an allover shake. Like a dog trying to shake off mud he’d accidentally rolled in. Maybe a mission with her brotherhood’s most hated enemies wasn’t a bad idea after all. It could be just what she needed.
Deep in her thoughts about Ragna, it took a few minutes for Gemma to realize they were nearly back at the castle and Quinn hadn’t said a word. That wasn’t like him. Especially after she had one of her confrontations with Ragna.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” she finally said to him.
“You destroy their souls,” Quinn said flatly, surprising Gemma.
Gemma stopped walking yet again. “What?”
“You destroy their souls. When you raise the dead.”
“Oh. Well . . . yes. All magicks require sacrifice.”
“Except you’re not the one sacrificing. The poor dead bloke on the ground is.”
“I didn’t want to lose an eye or half a lung for my power. Necro-mancing seemed the easiest choice, and war monks have to pick something. I only use it on my enemies.”
“And your horse.”
“That’s not fair. I didn’t want to do it.”
“But you did, knowing full well what you were doing to her.”
Gemma gazed at Quinn. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”
“You destroyed her soul.”
“And if I could do it again—”
“But you already did it.” He shook his head, looked off. “Just . . . no matter what happens, don’t ever do that to me.”
Startled, Gemma took a step back. “Excuse me?”
“I think I was very clear. Don’t ever raise me. Don’t destroy my soul. I have plans for my afterlife. They involve my grandfather and a lovely feast with the centaur gods. Can’t do that if you destroy my soul because you had no choice.”
Insulted, livid, and to be quite honest, just hurt, Gemma spun around and stomped off.
“Don’t look at me like that!” the centaur yelled after her. “I don’t think I’m being unreasonable with that request! Kriegszorn trusted you too! And that hand gesture is beneath you, Princess War Monk!”
* * *
Caid was standing on one of the ramparts, looking down toward the front of the castle. He eventually noticed his brother sitting on the rampart, with his back against one wall and his legs against the other; arms resting on his raised knees. At first, Caid was going to ignore him, but then he wondered if Quinn was up on the ramparts for the same reason as Caid was.
He went over to him and asked, “You feel it too, eh?”
“What?”
“I said you feel it too.”
“Feel what?”
Caid frowned. “Why do you sound like me? Are you imitating me again? You know I hate when you do that.”
When Quinn only gazed at him blankly, Caid actually began to worry about his brother. And he never worried about Quinn. Ever.
“All right, that’s it. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Just leave me alone.”
Deciding he couldn’t do that, Caid walked the ramparts until he saw his sister below. He put two fingers between his lips and whistled. A few minutes later, she was crouching beside Quinn.
“What did you do to him?” she demanded, glaring at Caid.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Are you sure? You can be mean.”
“I go out of my way to ignore him.”
“Caid didn’t do anything,” Quinn finally admitted.
“See?”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I found out Gemma destroys souls. When she raises the dead.”
“Well,” Laila said, shrugging. “She is a war monk.”
“This is what you’re sitting here looking so pathetic about?” Caid demanded. “I thought you had a real problem.”
“When I found out . . . I didn’t handle it well.”
“What do you mean?”
“I might have overreacted.”
“Gods,” Caid guessed. “This isn’t about you and Grandfather, is it? The plan you two have to dine with our gods? You know Grandfather’s not dead yet.”
“That’s a very real plan, Caid!”
Laila rolled her eyes. “What did you say to her, Quinn?”
“I may have suggested I was disgusted by the whole thing and told her not to raise me from the dead for any of her unholy plans.”
“Quinn!”
“I already said I overreacted!”
Laughing, Caid rested his arms on the rampart wall. “You’re an ass.”
“I just didn’t realize she was destroying souls.”
“All magicks require sacrifice.”
“Yes, Laila. So everyone keeps bloody telling me.”
“You should apologize.”
“Why should I apologize? She never apologizes to me for anything.”
“You apologize because you probably
hurt her feelings, which isn’t easy to do. A war monk is not someone with a lot of feelings to hurt. But you two are close—”
“We are not.”
“—so I’m sure your saying something like that to her was far more hurtful to Gemma than if it came from anyone else.”
“Oy,” Caid called out. “You two. Come here.”
His siblings stood next to him and he pointed, but he really didn’t have to. They were so obvious. Two more blood warlocks, the only difference between them, the color of their robes. One all in blue. The other in yellow.
“Did Keeley say anything about more of them coming here?”
“I don’t think she knew. She was too worried about those fucking dogs.”
“Wolves.”
“Shut up, Quinn.”
“You get Keeley. I’ll secure the main hall. Quinn, get Gemma. And when you see her . . . apologize.”
“Even if I don’t think I should—”
“Quinn!”
“Why is everyone snarling at me?”
“I’m shocked you actually asked that question,” Caid said to his brother. “You know . . . with a straight face.”
* * *
In a fresh set of clothes, Gemma opened her bedroom door to find Quinn standing there.
“What?” she asked, barely able to look at him.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by suggesting you’re a soulless monster that’s only happy when you’re destroying the souls of others—”
“Wait . . . what?”
“—and two more blood warlocks showed up just now. Caid, Laila, and I just saw them from the ramparts.”
Gemma grabbed her sword belt and bolted out the door, snarling over her shoulder at Quinn, “And I am not a soulless monster, you ridiculous horse’s ass.”
“You have to know that’s not really an insult to me.”
“Oh, shut up, Quinn!”
CHAPTER 23
By the time Gemma reached the last few steps leading into the main hall, nearly everyone who needed to be involved in what was coming was there. Including the two new additions, Ludolf’s fellow blood warlocks. The three of them were deep in a private conversation in the corner, making everyone nervous.
Gemma was about to take those final steps into the hall but she stopped and faced Quinn one more time, so she could inform him in no uncertain terms through her gritted teeth, “You and I both know that was no sort of worthy apology!”
“Stop hitting me!”
She hadn’t realized she’d started slapping his chest even before she’d begun yelling at him but once she did, she didn’t really care. He deserved it.
“When you’re ready to apologize like a proper . . .”
Quinn smirked. “You were going to say like a proper man, weren’t you?”
“Centaur,” she finished, “you know where I am.”
“Destroying someone else’s soul? Owww!”
She walked away, fighting the urge to shake out her now throbbing hand. She’d forgotten that punching him in the stomach could be just as painful as punching him in the face.
When Gemma reached Keeley’s side, the warlocks finished their conversation and separated. The two newcomers moved to the large open doors. They faced Keeley and bowed in her direction. Keeley, being Keeley, waved in return. “It was nice meeting you!” she called out.
That caused the warlocks a moment of confusion. Probably trying to figure out if she was being sarcastic or plotting their deaths . . . or both. But, of course, Keeley wasn’t. She meant that “It was nice meeting you,” or she wouldn’t have said it.
Once they were gone—moving a little faster than they’d come—Ludolf moved to the dining table and unrolled a large map across it.
“As all of you know,” he began, “the original goal was a simple one. To track down Cyrus the Honored so he could be dealt with in any way Queen Keeley saw fit. We all thought this task would take some time. It hasn’t. We know exactly where he is and it turns out that where Cyrus is, is a problem.”
“What do you mean?” Caid asked.
Ludolf swiped his red-gloved hand across an area on the map that had the centaurs immediately looking at one another and then back at Keeley.
“Cyrus’s legion has made camp here and Cyrus is definitely with them.”
“What’s the concern, other than it’s right in our territory?”
“It’s the location,” Laila replied. “A lot of water comes from that region. Pours down into all the connected streams and rivers and lakes that travel as far down as—” She looked around. “Here. Into this valley.”
“What about the Amichai Mountains? Your people?”
“He’d have to go into the mountains to get to our water supply. That would mean he’d have to deal with my people, the dwarves, the elves . . . all of us.”
“But,” Keeley guessed, “he can cut off our water supply from where he is.”
“He can.”
“And eventually destroy us from thirst alone.”
“Yes.”
Keeley nodded and stared at the map. Then, she announced, “All right.” She looked around at everyone. “All of you know what to do. We move out in two hours.”
Gemma looked around. Everyone in the room seemed to understand their role . . . except her.
She looked at Quinn. “Do you know what the plan is?”
“To follow you?”
Turning, Gemma realized that all those who’d traveled with her were standing around, waiting for her. Even the Abbess. Which meant . . .
“Gods-dammit!”
Gemma followed Keeley up to the room she shared with Caid.
“Are you planning to leave me here?” Gemma demanded, slamming the door behind her.
“No,” Keeley said calmly, pulling out the leather armor that had been made for her two years ago by the centaurs; a hammer and anvil crest were burned onto the leather breastplate. “You’re leaving for the Old King’s castle.” Keeley stopped dressing and faced her sister. “Aren’t you?”
“You still want me to do that? Now?”
“Yes, now. What did you think?”
“That you’d want me to go with you to kill Cyrus since he’s way more important in the big scheme of things.”
“Nothing is more important than finding out what Beatrix is up to, Gemma. Nothing. And you’re the only one I can trust to get it done. But remember what I told you. Killing Beatrix isn’t your goal. Finding out what she’s doing and stopping it is. Do you understand?”
“You’re serious. You don’t want me to go with you.”
“I’d love for you to come with me.”
“Good, then—”
“But I know what my instincts are telling me. What they’re screaming at me. If we wait on this, it’s a mistake.”
“I . . . uh . . . was going to set off in a few days.”
“Leave now. When we do. Tonight.”
Gemma closed her eyes, cracked her neck. She silently reminded herself that Keeley was queen; that Keeley leads. And all Gemma had to do as a war monk, a princess, and even a younger sister was to follow Keeley’s orders. No matter how ridiculous those orders might be!
“Fine. And who’s going with you?”
“My army. The centaurs.”
“And?” Gemma pushed.
“Ragna invited herself earlier in the day.”
“And you didn’t think I’d take that personally?”
“It was the only way the bitch would agree to leave your war monks here to protect the other sects.”
“At least agree to let my battle-cohorts go with you. I want them watching your back.”
“Do I have to talk to them?”
“After the death-cult discussion? No.”
“That’s fine then. But Keran stays behind to watch out for the family. If nothing else, she won’t let Archie mercy-kill the children when Mum and Da’s backs are turned.”
“Good plan. I’ll get everyone ready.”
When Gemma reached the bedroom door, Keeley was suddenly there, wrapping her arms around her.
“What are you doing?” Gemma asked, unable to keep the wary tone out of her voice.
“Hugging you.”
“Are you that sure I’m going to die?”
“No, but . . .”
“But? There’s a but?”
Keeley swung Gemma around and grabbed her by the shoulders. “No matter what happens in that castle. No matter what Beatrix is up to or what she says to piss you the fuck off, I want you to get out of there alive. Do you understand me? Are you listening?”
“Yes, I’m listening. I’m just not sure what you’re talking about.”
“You always think you want to kill Beatrix. But nothing would bring her more joy in this world . . . than to kill you.” Keeley rested her hand against Gemma’s cheek. “Don’t let her.”
CHAPTER 24
Gemma took Dagger’s reins from Samuel and told him again, “You’re not coming.”
“But—”
“Not this time. Not where I’m going.” She smiled at him. “But thank you.”
She led Dagger toward the stable doors, stopping when Ima and Wassa stepped in front of her.
“Well?” Ima asked.
“Well what?”
“Well—oh, gods!”
A seemingly normal-looking Kriegszorn rammed into Dagger, slamming him against the stable door with her front hooves and roaring at the poor horse.
“Kriegszorn, no!” Gemma bellowed.
Fangs out, ready to tear out Dagger’s throat, the horse looked at Gemma over her shoulder.
“Let him go. Right now. Let him go.”
She moved away from Dagger and dropped her front legs onto the ground.
“Samuel!”
Cautiously, Gemma’s onetime squire eased up to them and took Dagger’s reins back from Gemma. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and poor Dagger limped off.
Ima cleared her throat. “Uh . . . well, we did our best. As you can see, we managed to cover her dead side pretty well.”
“How?”
“Used some of the skin from her other side. We noticed it restores dead flowers and grass around the ring so we thought it might work with her skin too. So far, so good. Um . . . it does not work on her attitude, however. As we all can see.”
“She’s just jealous,” Gemma guessed. “She used to get that way sometimes when she was . . . normal. I’ll ride her on this mission.”
