The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga, #1) - G.A Aiken Page 0,36
arms and bent her neck back so she could look up at her giant uncle. He was a good five inches taller than her father and her father was a big man. That’s why she knew it would be a very bad thing if the fight between the two men went too far. Especially because Uncle Archie was . . . just a little . . . less than sane.
He was a talented stonemason who had, on more than one occasion, gotten himself kicked out of various towns because of the fear that he could “snap” at any time. The royals who hired him always loved his work but couldn’t stand to deal with him for any length of time. But over the years, he’d made a good amount of coin and, finally, went off to build the castle they were standing in. All by himself. Like a crazy person would do. She didn’t know he’d done such a beautiful job, though. He should be proud. But he was too busy feeling bitter and angry about whatever horseshit had gone on with his brother years earlier.
“You’re lucky I didn’t use my hammer on you,” she told him. “You attacked me da.”
“Do you want me to lie and say he didn’t deserve it?”
“No. But I need to know my entire family is safe while they’re here. That includes me da and not just me mum.”
He leaned in and whispered, “But if I kill him, I can have her.”
Good gods. “Uncle Archie, kill my father . . . and my mother will flay the skin from your very soul. And not in a nice way. In the meanest way she can think of.”
He glanced off and she could tell he was actually thinking about it. Wondering if it might be worth it.
So Keeley did what she didn’t want to do. She hooked the head of her hammer against her uncle’s leg and yanked, dropping the older man onto the floor, facedown.
“Owwww! You vicious cow!”
She crouched down next to him, pressing her knee against his spine and her hammer against the back of his neck, pushing down just enough... “Now listen up, you mad cock! As my uncle, I adore you. But as my father’s brother, I will kill you if you hurt him. And gods help you if you manage to kill him. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
“Yes.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“Yes!”
“Do I have your word, Uncle Archibald? Your word?”
“I give you my word!”
“Good!” She patted his shoulder. “And you will love the family axe I make for you. I give you my word.”
She left him lying facedown on the floor and headed to the stairs. When she reached them, her mother was standing there, grinning.
“That’s my girl,” her mother whispered as Keeley walked by.
* * *
Gemma forced Samuel into a room and made him get some sleep. He felt he should sleep in the stables with the one horse her uncle Archie had and the horses they’d brought from the farm. But why? Because he thought he should suffer as a monk? Except he wasn’t just a monk. He was a War Monk. Or would be, once his training was complete. But she really wasn’t sure the life of a War Monk was for him. Being an acolyte to one of the other, less violent, gods might be his best bet, but she didn’t have the luxury of saying that right now. She needed him. At least until this was over. And the war gods knew he’d served his purpose. His warning of the upcoming attack by the Devourer’s mercenaries had given her family the time they’d needed to survive the fight.
And, like any warrior, he needed good rest when he could find it. So if he had access to a bed, he should take it.
Gemma pointed a warning finger at the young man one more time before she finally closed the door and headed toward the stairs.
Despite having had a very good dinner that their mother made from a deer the Amichais had stalked and skinned near the castle, Gemma was still hungry. Hoping there was some bread and stew left, she went down the stairs and headed to the pantry. She walked past a room with a table and stacks of books. That’s where Keeley and Beatrix were deep in very soft conversation.
Her eyes narrowed and she immediately walked into the room, closing the door behind her.