a sorceress, tearing her into pieces and charging off with an arm and a leg. That’s when their little travel party turned to stare at her in mute horror. She didn’t blame them. Gemma also decided she didn’t have to put up with it.
She reached down to pick up her sword. She’d stuck it into the ground when she and Keeley had gotten into it. She had it by the hilt when Quinn grabbed her around the waist and carried her off.
Gemma had no idea where the centaur was taking her. But even one of the hells had to be better than this.
* * *
Keeley sat with her back against a tree, her knees raised, and her elbows resting on them. She didn’t know she was not alone until she heard his voice.
“May I join you, Your Majesty?”
He wore red robes that covered him from head to foot. She couldn’t see any part of his face. Not even his hands because he wore red leather gloves.
“Only if you don’t call me ‘Your Majesty,’ ” Keeley practically snarled and she immediately winced. She knew she sounded petulant and bitter. And fucking whiny. When had she become whiny?
“Sorry. Sorry about that,” she immediately apologized. “That was pathetic and you didn’t deserve that tone.” She gestured to a nearby stump. “Please. Sit.”
He did. “I have never heard a royal admit he or she sounded pathetic before. Nor apologize. I feel truly confused.”
“I’ve only been a royal for two years. I’m sure I’m doing it all wrong.” She gazed at the man now sitting across from her. “I have to admit, though, I’d feel much better if I could see your face.”
“Everyone believes that . . . until they actually see my face.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve made armor and weapons for men and women who’ve been through the hell of battle and went back for more. I doubt you’ll show me anything I haven’t seen before.”
* * *
Quinn scrubbed the blood and gore from Gemma’s face, neck, and hands while she sat near the river and silently seethed.
He could tell she was seething by the way her brows were pulled together. In order to get the blood off her forehead, he’d had to pull the skin so he could clean it properly. It wasn’t easy. The muscles were so tight, he’d had to force her brows apart.
“Are you really going to sit there all day . . . glowering?”
“That is my plan.”
Quinn sat down and began to wipe his own face but Gemma snatched the clean cloth from him and began to clean him herself. Apparently, he wasn’t “doing it right.” He didn’t know what that meant, but he was too afraid to ask when she was like this. He should have grabbed her before she’d picked up her sword but he’d been slow to react. That was his fault. Because he knew better than most that once she picked up her sword, she was already too pissed for rational thought.
“She bashed in that woman’s head like it was nothing,” Gemma suddenly announced.
“That woman was a sorceress and she did try to kill Keeley.”
“But Keeley should have still talked to her first or at least—”
“Don’t you mean the old Keeley?”
“What?”
“The old Keeley? The one that Caid first met before I even came along. The one that Beatrix hadn’t stabbed yet. That Keeley would have asked questions first and would have tried to stop you from cutting off the sorceress’s head until she saw there was no other option. But this Keeley doesn’t wait. She asks fewer questions. She’s quicker to react. And you’re worried what that means.”
Gemma sat back on her heels, her head dropping.
“She’s not turning into Beatrix, Gemma,” he said, which was the question she was truly asking herself.
And after a long moment of contemplative silence—something these religious types were known for—Gemma asked in a low voice, “But what if she’s becoming something far worse?”
That’s when Quinn laughed. He had to. It was so ridiculous!
Gemma glared at him. “What the fuck’s so funny?”
“You say something so stupid after asking me that question? About Keeley?”
“Well—”
“Not only do you ask it about Keeley but you’re comparing her to gods-damn Beatrix!”
“You forget that Beatrix hasn’t actually done anything evil since she’s been queen.”
“It’s only been two years.”
“Yes, but everyone thought that as soon as she got the crown, the skies would turn to blood and the earth would crack open and unleash all sorts of hell beasts. None of that has happened. In fact, the