Caid called out.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’d better be,” her centaur warned.
* * *
Back in his kilt and chainmail, Quinn gulped his tea and ate his fried boar while the rest of the travel party stumbled into the dining room, glaring at the sun blasting through the tall windows and cursing the days they were born.
He’d warned them not to drink too much wine, but they hadn’t listened, and now here they were. The only one who seemed unaffected was the Abbess and he’d watched her put quite a few glasses away last night before he’d left for Gemma’s room. And yet she’d entered the dining room with her usual rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and soft steps as if nothing bothered her.
“Brightest day, all,” she greeted, her hands tucked into her white robes.
“Is the yelling necessary, Your Holiness?” Balla barked.
“Are we sure those servants didn’t poison the wine?” little Priska asked, her head cradled in both hands. “Because I think . . .” She moved her hands to her mouth, then bolted from the room.
“I have something to soothe the stomach,” the Abbess proposed.
“I thought you’d want us to suffer,” Ima said into the table since that’s where her head rested at the moment.
“Perhaps on another day. But we have far to go and I must travel with all of you. I’d prefer not to spend all my time tiptoeing my horse around your vomit.”
The Abbess stood. “I’ll get my bag.”
“Morning!” Gemma exclaimed as she swooped into the room, her grin wide. The servants, despite her misstep the evening before, had done a fine job of cleaning her white tunic and chainmail. She fairly sparkled. “How is everyone this fair morning?”
“You’re in a much better mood,” the Abbess noted.
“I am in a much better mood. How good of you to notice.” She clapped her hands together and Quinn briefly feared everyone was going to attack her. “Now, we are on the road within the hour. Be ready. Where’s the vicar?”
“I’m here, Brother Gemma!”
“Vicar!”
“Brother!”
Father Aubin slammed his fist on the table. “If everyone does not stop yelling—”
“You’re the only one yelling, Father Aubin.” Gemma motioned to the vicar. “I want to see that map of the Old King’s castle.”
She took one of the scrolls from the vicar’s hands and, after moving the plates of food and chalices aside, she spread it out. They all leaned over the parchment, studying it closely.
“We don’t know what changes your sister has made since she’s moved in there,” Quinn reminded Gemma as they studied the detailed maps.
“So when we get in, we find someone to help us out.”
She rolled up the scroll and handed it back to the vicar. “Everyone get your things. We go. Now.”
Quinn caught her arm but waited until everyone else left the room. When they were alone, he kissed her, then shoved a piece of toasted bread into her mouth before reminding her that “this isn’t about killing Beatrix.”
Gemma swallowed a large gulp of tea from Quinn’s cup before asking, “Why do you and my sister keep saying that to me?”
“Oh, come on, Gemma. Why do you think?”
* * *
Keeley watched Queen Vulfegundis, master blacksmith of her guild, work on Keeley’s hammer.
Every once in a while, Keeley would tear her eyes away from the beauty of watching a true master at her craft, simply to smile at Vulfegundis’s husband, Mundric.
Using only metals the dwarves had mined themselves over the eons and a heat so powerful Keeley couldn’t even stand as close as she wanted without worrying about losing skin, the dwarven queen added layers to Keeley’s hammer again and again until, finally, she took it off to a table with several other dwarf women, where they spent another two hours on it.
Keeley couldn’t see what they were doing but she patiently waited.
When Vulfegundis finally returned, she casually held the hammer in one hand. No fancy pillow held the weapon. No massive giant covered in jewels walked it toward Keeley while musicians played dramatic music. It was just the queen, walking along, occasionally swinging the hammer to ensure she still liked the weight.
“Yeah,” she said when she was near. “This should do you quite nicely. At least until I have time to make you something decent. Not that there’s anything wrong with this. I mean, for a human, you did a pretty okay job. Excellent for a human, really. Now all I did was . . . you all right, luv?”
Keeley couldn’t hear her, though. She was too busy looking at her hammer. The