from the Amichais’ tails. He didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it. Nor did he notice the kittens climbing his horse legs. And Keeley, who sat on the bed, listening to his complaints and petting a baby goat, didn’t seem to notice or care either. That’s when Gemma knew life among the Smythe clan had well and truly changed.
“Are you still following me?” she asked Quinn, whose white-blond hair often made her think the gods had gone out of their way to make him the exact opposite of his black-haired brother, Caid.
“I’m only here because I was ord—”
“If you say ‘ordered’ one . . . more . . . time . . .”
“So I can’t say ‘ordered’ or ‘princess’? And yet you are a princess who I was ordered to follow.”
Gemma stepped around him. “Fuck off, Amichai. I have no time for you or . . .”
Gemma’s complaint faded when the Amichai moved past her and stopped, his head tilting one way, then the other. He heard something. Was trying to follow the sound.
“This way,” he barked before setting off.
Gemma immediately followed. Together, they made their way deep into the empty castle, cutting through the kitchens and out an exit into the open fields. A dangerous way to live, with no protection at one’s back like a small courtyard.
She stood next to Quinn, sweeping her gaze across the grassy, open area until she saw him. His bright yellow robes flapped as he desperately ran toward the castle while a man on horseback charged after him, his big axe ready to remove the runner’s head.
“Do you know either?” Quinn asked her.
“The one in robes is a monk. A pacifist order that does no harm to any. I don’t recognize the armor of the other.”
“Good enough,” Quinn said as he unslung the longbow strapped across his chest and pulled an arrow from the leather quiver hanging from his sword belt. He nocked the arrow, aimed, and released.
The hit was direct, in the chest, taking the rider right off his horse.
As much as Quinn annoyed her, Gemma couldn’t ignore the Amichai’s skill with a longbow, only rivaled by his sister, who used a composite bow as if it were an extension of her arm.
Still, Gemma wasn’t about to tell Quinn any of that. He was arrogant enough already.
* * *
Gemma brought two fingers to her mouth and whistled. Quickly, as if he’d just been waiting for her call, Gemma’s horse trotted through the castle and into the field, stopping right beside her.
Dagger tossed his black mane, which had been braided into four thick plaits so it didn’t get in his way during battle, and pounded his front hoof against the ground. She mounted him with ease and clucked her tongue against the top of her mouth once. Dagger galloped toward the hysterical man still running toward them. As they neared, Quinn heard his screams for help as the monk stumbled, fell, then got back to his feet again.
Gemma reached him first and when she stopped, the man dropped to his knees beside her.
“Please! Don’t hurt me! Please! I am a pacifist monk! I am a pacifist monk!” he screamed. Begging.
Gemma stared down at him.
“I know what you are, Brother. I won’t hurt you. No soldier should be hurting you. They should only come to your monastery for healing and care. As a sanctuary.”
Still on his knees, the monk shook his head.
“They’ve killed them all!” he screeched. “All of them! They’ve killed every one!”
Gemma glanced off, her brows pulled low, her blue eyes dark, her expression unreadable. Quinn watched her closely, curious to see what she would do. When monks from different orders passed through their town, Gemma wasn’t exactly welcoming. At best, she simply ignored them. At worst, there were nasty fights in the nearby taverns that ended with her getting sewn up the next day and refusing to discuss the cause of the brawl.
But this felt different.
After a moment, Gemma looked over her shoulder and pointed at a unit of Keeley’s soldiers.
“You lot!” she called out. “With us!” Gemma held out her hand and the monk grabbed it. She hauled him onto Dagger’s back and set the horse racing forward. Quinn followed.
When they reached the nearby monastery, the monk immediately slipped off Dagger. He walked to the open front doors, dropped to his knees in his gratingly cheery bright yellow robes, clenched his hands together, focused his eyes on the brilliant sky above, and unleashed prayers that were no more