was nothing.
“Think they’re all dead?” Quinn finally had to ask when the fourth day was reaching its end.
“I don’t know. But I’m ready to leave.” She began to pace. While the Amichai had been quite patient, she had grown restless after the first day. Mostly because Ragna had given her so little information. How long was Gemma supposed to wait? Days? Weeks? Years?
She’d forgotten how frustrating that woman could be to report to. You never knew exactly what she wanted. Sometimes she wanted you to follow your instincts and make solid, logical decisions. Other times she wanted you to ask follow-up questions and when you didn’t, she assumed you were stupid or trying to “take over.”
Gemma didn’t have time to play Ragna’s mind games.
“Come on. We’re leaving.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
They packed up their saddlebags, mounted their horses, and rode off. They’d only traveled a few miles when lightning struck so close to Gemma’s horse that it reared to the side and began to go down.
Gemma rolled off so Dagger didn’t fall on her legs, possibly crushing one or both. By the time she got back to her feet, she saw more lightning strikes, hitting the ground randomly. But there were no clouds in the sky. No rumbles of thunder. No signs of storms.
Dagger did fall to his side but was also unharmed. Gemma got the horse back on his feet and slapped his rump to send him off at a run. Then she pulled her sword and caught the shield that Quinn tossed her. They took cover behind a big tree just as massive winds began to blow.
“What’s going on?” Quinn yelled over the screaming wind.
“A battle of the idiots!” She pointed at two black-robed men. “War priests against”—she gestured at two young women in flowing white gowns—“temple virgins”—she leaned around Quinn and motioned to men in bright gray satin robes, the lower halves of their faces covered by black cloth—“against divine assassins.”
“They’re not the ones we’re supposed to be—”
“Of course they are!”
“Perfect. Now what?”
“You go out there.”
“Me? Why the fuck would I go out there?”
“You said centaurs can’t be touched by magicks, right?”
“Charms. Curses. Spells. They don’t harm my kind. But bolts of lightning and massive windstorms and . . . ?”
They silently watched an elk spin by, carried by the insane wind one of the fighting pairs had unleashed.
“Yeah,” Quinn admitted, still watching that poor elk, “I can’t fight that.”
* * *
Ragna couldn’t believe how easy it was to walk into the queen’s castle. No one stopped her. No one questioned her. Her army was still several leagues away, but she wanted to see what she was dealing with before bringing her monk-knights here.
Of course, she was wrapped in the robes of a healer nun, but still . . . during wartime, questions should be asked. But no. Nothing.
Disgusted by the lack of castle security, she turned to walk back out but stopped when a metal hammer hit her in the back of the leg.
“Who dares invade my queendom, foul beast?”
Ragna looked down at the chubby child attacking her with what appeared to be a baby-sized blacksmith hammer.
“Speak before I destroy you and all you love!”
“Sorry! Sorry!” An older child ran into the hall and grabbed at the hammer but the younger one ran around Ragna, using her as a shield. “Give me that hammer, you little cretin!”
“Come get it, demon!”
“Mum! Endelyon is threatening the nuns again with her hammer!”
“Your mum is at the forge!” someone yelled back from deep within the castle. “Want me to get your father?”
The elder girl rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother.”
“Ha! No one will stop me! For I am ruler of—oof!”
A little boy, near the age of the younger girl, tackled her to the ground with such force that Ragna wondered if he’d possibly broken her bones. He yanked the hammer from the child’s hand, waved it in her face, then ran from her. The girl scrambled to her feet and went after her brother, screaming, “I cannot rule without my hammer! Give me back my hammer!”
“Sorry, Sister,” the older girl said with a quick curtsey before she followed the smaller children.
Now Ragna was doubly disgusted. A child taking care of a child? Who was overseeing this place? Who was on guard? And where was this precious Queen Keeley she’d been hearing so much about?
* * *
“Can’t you fight them with your own magicks?” Quinn asked as the winds finally died down but the lightning strikes increased.
“What magicks?”
“You’re a war monk!”
“I raise the dead!”
“Is that