she moved through the crowd of mercenaries on horseback, she realized that to have just grabbed Beatrix would have been a very foolish thing indeed.
Not when the mother stood in front of her children covered in someone else’s blood and there were already two headless bodies stretched out in front of her nun daughter. The nun was taking the time to kindly—although stupidly—pray over them. Bad timing, but she was a nun, after all. Maybe she was required to do so by her sect.
The mercenaries began to ride forward and she went along. It was a gift given to her kind by the horse gods. They could blend into any herd of horses without being seen by human eyes. If they were smart. Sometimes her brothers . . . not so smart.
Laila pulled out her bow and quickly nocked three arrows, but before she could use them, the horses surrounding her suddenly reared up and began to panic. Had the nun cast a spell? Did nuns cast spells? Laila had thought all they did was pray and not have sex. And sometimes help the poor.
Confused, she kept her bow at the ready but moved along with the herd. It was when she was jostled to the left that she saw those headless bodies moving. Not the final death throes of men who hadn’t realized their heads were no longer attached to their bodies but moving . . . with purpose. Slowly, but surely, getting to their feet.
Then the nun ripped off her white robes and Laila took in a startled breath.
Oh, it had been a very good thing they hadn’t taken that girl.
Laila didn’t even need to hear the men screaming to know what she was looking at. To fully understand. What the “nun” now wore told her everything she needed to know—and what the woman had been hiding.
The full-length chainmail hauberk with that wide skirt, slit up the front and back for fighting and horse riding. Iron chausses on her legs and chainmail boots with iron spurs. And a black woolen cappa over the chainmail, slit in the front and rear like the hauberk. But on the front and back was a blood-red rune that revealed all.
Gemma Smythe was no chunky nun. She was a War Monk. A knight who’d dedicated her entire life and soul to one of the mighty war gods. Morthwyl, based on her runes. Not only making the woman a trained and very deadly warrior, but one who could also raise the dead to attack their enemies during battle.
The headless bodies pulled their swords from their sheaths and rushed their former compatriots, running toward them at full speed and attacking as soon as they were near. As if they could see them despite the loss of their heads.
They struck the horses nearest first, so that the poor animals dropped and the men on the ground were immediately torn open by the swords of the headless.
The other horses wanted nothing to do with those that were once dead and they immediately backed up and turned away from the running bodies, attempting to charge off but, in their panic, colliding with one another or with the trees.
A few of the soldiers, knowing the War Monk was behind the attack, forced their horses to move forward, their swords pulled.
Gemma yanked a long sword she had sheathed at her side, gripped the handle with both hands, and raised it high over her left shoulder.
Laila released her three arrows, taking out three of the mercenaries in the process. She moved forward, nocking three more arrows, but she was no longer part of the herd. Another scream went out from the mounted men.
“Centaur!”
One of them blew a horn that would call to others and Laila quickly spun around, using her now much-bigger ass to knock the horse that had been beside her to the ground. She raised her bow and let the arrows fly, taking out the horn blower in mid-blast and two other men in the process.
She walked backward until she stood beside Gemma. She glanced down at her, nodded her head. “Monk.”
Gemma gazed up at her with wide eyes. “Centaur?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe Keeley was right.”
“She was right about you too,” Laila admitted. “You’re quite the little liar.”
* * *
Caid ran after Keeley through the woods, briefly pausing when he heard the screamed “War Monk!” coming from off in the distance.
Keeley stopped, too, at that yell, and looked over her shoulder. But then she gave