The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga, #1) - G.A Aiken Page 0,86
had not spoken once during the meal. And Keeley knew why—she didn’t trust anyone.
“You. War Monk. You two are sisters, so you should know the Old Songs too.”
Gemma looked up from her steel cup of water. “I do. But I have no desire to sing on command.”
“I thought you wanted our help, Monk,” Vulfegundis said, pushing her short black hair off her face.
“Yes.”
“And yet you expect us to hand over our armies to people we don’t know, of a race we don’t particularly like?”
“Our armies?”
“We rule together. And it’s together we choose who we help. And my husband knows I’m not much a fan of... monks.”
“It’s true,” the king said, smiling lovingly at his wife. “So if I were you, Monk . . . I’d sing.”
Keeley thought for sure her sister would have long forgotten all those songs their mother had sung to them since they were in their cribs. But then, Gemma sang one of the saddest Old Songs ever, about the death of a blacksmith’s loyal hound. Her voice was crystal clear and beautiful and by the time she was done, Keeley, the king, his wife, and every dwarf in the throne room was openly sobbing. The centaurs, however, were not. Although they did look disturbed. Samuel, of course, was crying. And Keran was asleep, most likely waiting for the dinner wine to turn into hearty dwarven ale.
“That was beautiful, War Monk,” the king said to Gemma with great respect, using his fist to wipe his wet eyes.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She turned to Keeley, her mouth opening to say something, but when she saw the tears, she stopped. “Woman . . . are you crying?”
“I love that song,” Keeley sobbed out.
With a wave of her hand, Gemma started to stand, but Keeley asked through her tears, “Do you remember Butch?”
Gemma froze. “Keeley, stop.”
“He was our mother’s dog,” she explained to the king. “He went with her to her forge every day. And walked her home every night.”
Gemma leaned back in her chair, her own eyes now filled with tears. “Keeley, I said stop.”
“He took care of us and watched out for all us kids—and then one day... one day!”
Keeley looked at Gemma and together they cried out, “Butch!”
* * *
Caid watched with his mouth open as a battle-ready blacksmith and her murderous War Monk sister sobbed over a dead dog. It wasn’t just sobbing either. It was hysterical sobbing. The kind of sobbing one saves for finding one’s father dead. Not because of a dog.
Next to him, Laila rubbed her nose and immediately Caid barked, “You better not be—”
“Are you kidding?” she demanded, eyes dry. “My nose is itchy.”
A short time after the sobbing finally stopped, the dwarves brought out their ale. That’s when Keran snapped awake and, out of nowhere, began to sing another Old Song. This one was a jig from the start and all the way through. The sisters and cousin started off the dancing and the dwarves happily joined in. Now, all of them were singing.
That went on for quite a few hours until almost everyone passed out except the on-duty guards—who didn’t drink at all—the king, Queen Vulfegundis, Laila, Quinn, Keeley, and Gemma.
They didn’t head off to bed, though; instead all of them sat down at the dining table once again.
“If I give you my armies,” the king haggled with Keeley, “what will you give me?”
“My armies—”
“Which you don’t currently have,” Queen Vulfegundis tossed in.
“—will be there for your wars, of course. And we protect the Amichai Mountains from any raiders. Human or otherwise. All this territory will belong only to the tribes. I’ll make it a royal edict. And if anyone disobeys it . . . they’ll be beheaded.”
“Is that it?”
“You’re getting a royal edict out of this—what more do you want?”
“That’s a nice hammer,” the king noted.
“You’re not getting my hammer,” Keeley quickly said, making the king laugh. “And you said it was cute.”
“I thought my granddaughter would like it. She’s nearly eight seasons now.”
“Oh, that’s very nice,” Keeley coldly replied.
“I want something,” the queen suddenly interjected, her gaze locked on Keeley.
“And what’s that?”
When the queen smirked, Caid’s ears twitched and Laila sat up a little straighter in her chair.
“I want gold,” she finally announced.
Keeley’s eyes rolled and she sarcastically replied, “I’m a little low on gold at the moment. New queen and all that.”
“Sichar’s gold.”
Keeley’s mouth fell open and Gemma abruptly leaned forward, her arms slamming down on the table. Both sisters openly gawked at the queen. Even Keran