sauntered over, stared at Keeley for a bit, and then went about her own business. After that, the other horses let Keeley get close, offer them treats or help them when they were hurt. But her best friend, her most favorite was the gray mare’s son. A gray stallion that always watched out for her, made her laugh, and warned her when her younger siblings were about to do something they would all regret.
She should have known something was wrong with the day when she went to make her morning check on the herd and found no animal in sight except for three domesticated horses she didn’t recognize. Then she’d heard the raucous laughter of men. Keeley knew that sound rarely meant anything good out in the middle of the woods. And she’d been right—a small unit of soldiers were hanging a boy from a tree for their amusement.
Keeley was very glad she’d stepped in when she had. And was even gladder that the Amichais had come along. Could she have handled that entire unit by herself? Probably. Could she have outlasted them all? Most likely. Could she have done that and kept all her important bits and pieces? Like her arms, legs, and eyes? Probably not.
So she would forever be grateful to the outsiders who’d come to her aid, which was why she was rushing them through the forest.
They’d just made it into the valley when screams from behind them had Keeley spinning around. One of the soldiers was running out of the forest but he suddenly pitched forward and went down, a wolf on his back.
“Shit,” she mumbled to herself.
Two more wolves came out of the forest. One grabbed the calf of the soldier and began to drag him back, inch by slow inch. The wolf that was already on his back swiped at his spine, tearing flesh, sending pieces of bone flying.
The soldier screamed, reached out for Keeley.
“Help me! Please!”
Keeley went down on her knees and opened her arms. The black wolf she’d known since she’d found him in the forest—alone, crying, and about to be killed by three religious zealots in the garb of Peace Monks—ran to her. He jumped on her, licked her face, and Keeley dug her fingers into his thick fur and wrestled him to the ground.
She laughed until she heard a sword being drawn. Keeley picked up her hammer and turned on her knees, faced the sound. The black wolf stood next to her, baring his fangs, blood-flecked drool dripping down his jaws.
It was the female Amichai who now brandished her sword, gaze locked on the wolves.
“I appreciate that you helped out in the forest,” Keeley told the female as she got to her feet, holding her hammer in both hands. “But I won’t like it if you insist on threatening my friends.”
“Your friends? Those things are your friends?”
“Those things saved our lives.”
“Those things had a meal.”
Keeley smirked. “A hearty one, too.”
“They were called from some hell pit. Demons. You called demons to help you. That doesn’t bother you? That they’re evil?”
“Evil? What makes you think they’re evil?” Keeley asked, truly confused.
She pointed her sword. “Flames. They all have flames instead of eyes! That doesn’t bother you?”
“As long as I don’t put my hands right on their faces, I—”
“That’s not what I mean!”
The dark-haired Amichai approached the female. “Give us a moment,” he said before pulling the female away.
Keeley shrugged and looked down at the black wolf, his eyes of flame gazing back at her.
“Moody bitch, eh?” she asked and her friend “muffed” in agreement.
* * *
Caid of the Scarred Earth Clan looked down at his sister and asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Eyes of flame!”
“I know. I can see them.” Hard not to really with their eyes burning bright as the two suns above his head. “But you seem to have forgotten why we’re here.”
“I forget nothing, Brother. But I do ask what kind of people we are dealing with.”
“It doesn’t matter. The woman is not our goal. Her sister is. And we can’t get to one without the other.” That was what they’d been told before they were sent out to protect the future queen of these lands, and after watching the family, Caid knew the truth of it. Because Keeley Smythe might not be the mother or father of her family, but she was the matriarch. And after seeing how she’d handled herself in the forest, Caid knew she was not a woman to be trifled with. So