all you can do?”
“Nooo. Of course not!” Gemma shrugged. “But studying magicks never interested me as much as my combat lessons.”
“So what can you use against them?”
“Well . . . I can throw enemies around a little bit. I can, uh . . . um . . .”
The pause went on for so long that Quinn finally snapped, “That’s it?”
“Not so loud!”
“Ragna sent you here alone to prove a point, didn’t she?” Quinn guessed. “Because I honestly don’t know how we’re going to handle these people without any magick skills at our fingertips. No wonder she didn’t stop me from riding after you.”
“Oh, calm down. We just need to distract them. That’s all you ever need to do with magick—distract those wielding it.”
“And how do you propose we do that, O brilliant one?”
The fight behind them began to pick up again. Boulders flying, lightning striking, the wind increasing once more. That’s when Gemma spotted the elk again. Quinn saw her smile and he immediately shook his head.
“No,” he said. “No. We’re not using him.”
“He’s perfect.”
“The fact that he survived the first round is enough. We’re not torturing that poor animal again.”
“Don’t be a big baby.”
“Stop going out of your way to be the opposite of Keeley. Because we both know your sister would never do this.”
“Fine,” she said, no longer smiling, but smirking. Smirking at his expense. “You know what that leaves us.”
“Yes!” he snapped. “I’m aware.”
* * *
Ragna decided to search the queen out. She’d heard the new royal had started off as a blacksmith, so she headed first to the forge. There she found a big-shouldered woman who matched the description of Queen Keeley. Long dark hair. Giant shoulders. Large muscles. And a way with steel. When Ragna entered the forge, the woman held up a sword that had the monk pausing for a moment. She’d never seen such a beautiful weapon. It was true. She preferred her weapons plain and deadly. She didn’t need fancy markings on the blade or jewels on the hilt. She was a monk, after all.
But still . . . that sword was a thing of beauty.
“Queen Keeley?” Ragna asked.
The woman laughed. “Sorry, Sister. You’re looking for my daughter. Anyone seen me girl?” she called out to the other blacksmiths and apprentices working with her.
When the answers were all “No,” the woman tossed that beautiful weapon into a barrel filled with other beautiful swords. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere, though, Sister.”
“You’re the queen mother?” Ragna had to ask.
“Guess I am,” she said with another laugh, turning back to her forge and all that heat.
Ragna was a few feet away from the forge when she heard a bellowed “Oy!”
She froze, her shoulders locking, left eye twitching. Had the queen mother just “oyed” her?
Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Yes, Your Highness?”
“Try that unfinished building over on the east lawn, yeah? She might be over there. That’s where the pack stays.”
“The pack?”
“Of her wolves. That’s where they’ve started keeping their pups the last few days. Since the dwarves don’t seem to mind ’em.”
“Dwarves?”
“Yeah. You’ll probably find her there.”
Ragna forced a polite, saintly smile. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” the royal said with a hammer wave before disappearing back into her forge.
* * *
“This is humiliating,” Quinn complained, arms folded across his massive chainmail-covered chest.
“I know,” Gemma soothed. “I know.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he accused. “You’re enjoying my humiliation!”
“Of course not! But I don’t see any other option.”
As if to push that point home, the elk leaned up against Quinn as he fearlessly grazed on the grass at the centaur’s feet.
“You’re both in on this together . . . aren’t you?”
“That’s silly.” Gemma grabbed Quinn’s hand and gazed deeply into his eyes. “Now you just need to trust me.”
“Except you know I don’t trust you.”
“That’s what makes this so wonderful.”
* * *
Ragna headed east until she found a half-finished building. There was a lot of hammering coming from inside, so she entered.
Although she could hear continued work, Ragna saw only two people inside the main room. One was another big-shouldered woman with massive muscles exposed by a sleeveless shirt and a long dark braid that reached down her back. She was facing away from Ragna and was deep in conversation with a monk. A pacifist monk based on his bright yellow robes.
Robes so bright, Ragna felt as if she was gazing directly into one of the suns. She felt an urge to shield her eyes.
She didn’t want to interrupt the hushed conversation going on between the pair, so