the stables would continue to be used by the family.
Gemma stormed away from her sister and Keeley handed the bow back to him.
“Thanks for that.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know if there will be enough horses for all of us,” she said as they walked toward the stables. “Mind if I catch a ride?”
Caid stopped walking, faced her. “Really?”
She blinked up at him. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I was just joking.”
“That’s the kind of joke that makes some of my people very angry. Especially my sister. Don’t let her easy ways fool you. She has a bit of a temper.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just . . . my heart is breaking because I know my father’s heart is breaking. And there’s nothing I can do to help him.”
Realizing that she wasn’t mocking him or being cruel, Caid immediately felt bad. This was why he rarely dealt with people. Most greatly annoyed him and he wasn’t very good at hiding that annoyance. But Keeley, much like her father, didn’t annoy him much at all. There was something so earnest about her. So open. She didn’t seem to hide anything from anyone.
“I don’t know your family well,” Caid carefully told her, “but I truly think the only thing your father cares about is that his children and wife are alive and well.”
Keeley nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”
They began walking toward the stables again.
“Who taught you to fight like that?” he asked, suddenly irritated by the abrupt silence between them. “Your mother or father?”
“Both. My father was a soldier. For the Old King’s armies. Many years ago. He always said, ‘I know what soldiers do when they have free rein. I don’t want that for my daughters.’ And my mother was a firm believer that it’s a poor blacksmith who doesn’t know how to wield her own weapons.”
“Well, they did a fine job with you and your sister.”
“My parents taught Gemma how to wield weapons but that other shit...? She learned that from someone else.” Keeley rubbed her forehead but all she did was smear the blood around. “Do you know anything about War Monks?”
Caid opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again . . . let out a long breath.
Keeley raised her hands. “Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s not that bad. It’s just—”
“No. Don’t even bother. We both heard the screams of those mercenaries. Cold-blooded men who kill for sport and gold and yet my much-shorter sister sent them into a panic. I think that says all I need to know.”
They neared the others, who were already mounted and ready to go. The smallest children being held by a sibling or parent.
“Where are we going?” she asked him.
“That’s up to you. We need to take your family someplace safe.”
“But I thought—”
“The children can’t come.”
Keeley stopped. “I will not leave Beatrix. Do you understand?”
“Of course. But you don’t want your brothers and sisters around the Witches of Amhuinn. It’s simply not wise.”
“That’s fine.”
“But we should move. In case more of Straton’s men come.”
Keeley started walking again but she was suddenly nudged forward; the gray mare stood behind her.
She petted the head of her friend, whispered to her. “You poor thing. I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to.”
Keeley frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“She wants revenge. Not just on the ones who killed her son, but on those who destroyed her life. She thinks you can give that to her.” Caid glanced at the mare. “She’s offering her services. As your war mount.”
Keeley looked over her shoulder at Beatrix. Her sister sat sidesaddle on a small mare. Back straight, brown hair reaching past her hips, already looking the part of a royal. She wasn’t exactly what Caid would call “pretty.” And there was something off about her. Something he felt was missing.
It didn’t matter, though, did it? She’d been chosen for a reason and, once she had the witches’ blessing, then war would come. There was no way around it. Not with the Old King’s sons fighting for that crown.
Keeley placed her hands on the gray mare’s massive jaw and lifted her head. “Ride with me into battle and I will do my best to give you the revenge you seek. Fair enough?”
The mare trotted over to the rest of the family, stopping in front of Keeley’s father.
Confused, Keeley looked up at him.
“Get your saddle,” Caid told her. “She’s waiting for you.”
* * *
Straton stared over the edge of the pit where a good number of his hired