about?” she asked.
Beatrix began to reply, but Keeley cut her off. “I think the bigger question, Sister, is why are you here? I always thought War Monks moved in packs. Like dogs. Or rats.”
Gemma took a moment, using all her training to keep herself calm. She didn’t want to become like Uncle Archie and her father. Fighting with Keeley every time they saw each other. They were better than that. Weren’t they?
When Gemma didn’t answer right away, Keeley went on. “I can’t help but notice your timing. We don’t see you for more than a decade but then . . . there you are. Suddenly. And dressed as a nun. That was delightful.”
“If you’re asking whether I knew about the Witches of Amhuinn, I did. Of course I did.”
“And?”
“And I think Beatrix is a little young to be queen.”
“The Old King was the Old King when he was fifteen seasons. She’s twenty-three seasons. She’ll be fine.”
“Keeley—”
“With the right advisors, she’ll be fine.”
Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. “I knew you weren’t going to be reasonable.”
“How is that unreasonable?”
“She can turn it down. Tell the witches no.”
Beatrix, leaning her butt against the table, calmly gazed at Gemma. “And why would I do that?”
Gemma finally focused on her younger sister and she desperately fought the urge to start slapping the arrogance out of her. She knew that wouldn’t work on Beatrix, but part of her still wanted to try.
“Because you shouldn’t be queen. The land will be torn apart—”
“The land will be torn apart anyway. The brothers will ensure that.”
“You have no army. You have no allies. You have nothing, Beatrix. All you’re doing is putting our family in danger. And for what? So you can wear a crown you couldn’t possibly hold on to? Does that make sense to you?”
“What makes sense to me is that our lands need a new leader. I am that leader. If that bothers you . . . I’m sorry. But I will not turn this down.” She placed her hand on Keeley’s shoulder. “We’ll leave tomorrow. With the Amichais. You tell Father.”
And with that, she and her dark green silk gown swept out of the room.
“Have you lost your—”
Gemma jerked back when Keeley slapped her hand over her mouth.
“Shhhh,” she hissed, her forefinger held in front of her lips. “Keep your voice down.”
Keeley went to the door, making sure to close it quietly. When she was done, she faced Gemma.
“Why can’t you be nice?” she asked.
Now Gemma wanted to slap Keeley.
“Because there is no time to be nice,” Gemma practically hissed. “There is no time to let her believe, for even a moment, that she should or could be queen.”
“Why? Because you don’t like her?”
“I wish it were that easy, Keeley. I wish it was just me not liking her so that she could be queen and the rest of us could go on with our lives. But you should know that nothing is that simple. Not in the world we live in.”
Keeley studied Gemma for a moment before she asked, “And what if we tell her right now, tonight, that she can’t be queen? That our parents forbid it. That you and I forbid it. That no one, not even the Amichais, will escort her anywhere. What do you think happens then?”
Gemma met her sister’s gaze, but she couldn’t keep it. Not when she already knew the answer to those questions.
“She goes anyway.”
Keeley pushed away from the door and went to the table. She slid some books aside and sat down, letting her long legs dangle over the side.
“Of course she goes anyway,” she finally said. “She has been waiting for this all her life.”
“What are you talking about?”
“While you were off with monks, I was watching our siblings grow up. Like Mum, I can tell you everything about each of them. The ones who’ll stay on the farm all their lives. The ones who’ll go off to join the military. The ones who will be rich and the ones who will always struggle. And from what I’ve seen of Beatrix . . . she’s been waiting for this since she was born. Since the day Mum held her in her arms and declared to the world, ‘This one is a bit plain.’ ”
Beatrix was a bit plain but it never mattered to the family. Although, now that Gemma thought about it, it clearly mattered to Beatrix. That’s why she wore those gowns while living in the middle of a farm with horses