The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga, #1) - G.A Aiken Page 0,65

this conversation. Beatrix had known it was coming but she wasn’t too concerned.

“Not planned but necessary. They were a threat to you.” She pulled a folded parchment from a pocket in her dress and handed it to her.

“What is this?”

“Their plans for your death. For some reason, my lady, they felt you were a threat.” Beatrix forced a smile. She knew this one to be “sincere.”

“It was always about protecting you, Dowager Queen,” she lied. “Always about protecting you.”

She flashed a “friendly” smile and saw Maila’s entire body relax.

“So,” Maila said, “what is our next move?”

“To get me married to your son . . . and then to secure the lands around the Old King’s castle. That will be what Marius’s half brothers will attempt to capture once again and we’ll have to stop them.”

Maila linked her arm with Beatrix’s. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

“Don’t worry. We won’t let those pretenders to the throne even get near your son. He will be the next Old King.”

They started back toward the soldiers outside, walking over the smoldering rubble.

“And us?” Maila asked.

“Together we will rule beside him,” Beatrix lied.

CHAPTER 16

Gemma waited outside the healer’s tent, pacing back and forth for what felt like hours.

As she paced, she knew she was being watched by the centaurs of various clans walking past her, their gazes locked on the blood-red rune on her hauberk. She knew what they feared and she couldn’t say that she blamed them. War Monks had a fearsome reputation—and with good reason. But Gemma refused to look down in shame. Refused to pretend she was anything other than what she was. Not when all she really cared about was her sister.

She had attempted to stay in the tent with Keeley but the healer wouldn’t allow it. She’d pushed Gemma out with Caid and Laila, Samuel, Keran, and the gray mare. The demon wolves, though, would not be pushed anywhere and they stayed, moving into a silent pile in the corner of the tent, their burning eyes locked on everything the healer did.

Gemma stopped worrying about her sister’s safety after that. No one was getting near Keeley while those wolves were near.

Eventually, the healer leaned out of the tent flap and waved at them.

Gemma rushed in but when she stopped, she had a small battle unit of beings crashing into her back, including the gods-damn horse!

The healer turned around and blinked wide when she saw the small crowd.

“I see. She has many friends.” The healer’s accent was thick, Gemma realized, because she was not originally from the Amichai Mountains. Seeing the white blond hair that she wore in a long braid down her back and hearing that accent, Gemma would guess she was from the Steppes of the Outerplains. How the centaur had made it this far . . . Gemma had no idea.

“Well?” Gemma pushed. “How is she?”

The healer shrugged. “Could be much worse.”

“What does that mean?” Caid asked.

“Amhuinn Witches did good job. She should be wake. She should be up, moving.”

“But she’s not,” Laila noted. “Why?”

There went that shrug again. “If I guessed . . .”

“Don’t guess, Petra. We don’t want guesses.”

She took a breath. “She is not in there.”

Gemma glanced at Laila, and together they asked, “What the fuck does that mean?”

* * *

Caid had no idea what Petra Azhischenkov of the True Horse Blood of the Black Sea of Pain and Longing in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains—and yes, dear gods, that was her entire fucking name—was talking about. And not because of her annoying Outerplains accent either. For once, she was making no sense.

“I mean what I say,” Petra insisted. “She is not in there. Her body heals, but her soul”—she flittered her fingers into the air—“it is somewhere else.”

“Did someone do that to her?” Caid asked.

“No. She did to self.”

“So she’s in so much pain,” Laila reasoned, “that she’s taken herself out of her body?”

“No. Amhuinns had many herbs inside her to make pain go ’way. Her problem, less physical, more . . .” She tapped her forefinger against her temple. “My guess, something truly bothers her. But she cannot face it.”

Caid could guess what was bothering Keeley, what she couldn’t face. Her family meant everything to her.

Gemma walked over to her sister’s side, ignoring the warning growls of the wolves, and picked up her sister’s hand, held it between both of hers. She leaned down, gazing thoughtfully at Keeley before she screamed, “Wake up, you ridiculous cow, and