The Princess Knight Page 8

  Quinn was desperately trying to grasp her logic but he couldn’t. He didn’t have that kind of loyalty to . . . anyone. Maybe his sister. He could imagine dying to protect her. And their mother. But that was about it. Of course, he had never committed his sword or soul to a god. Any god.

  “I need to get some sleep,” Gemma said, pushing the last pie over to him and standing.

  “It was just a dream,” he felt the need to insist. “All this is just upsetting you right now.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” She stepped away from the table but abruptly stopped and faced him again. “Did you follow me up there?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Quinn immediately shot back. “I was already on the battlements.”

  “Why?”

  He continued to eat. “Eh. I’m not a big sleeper.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Quinn shrugged. What did she think it meant?

  “So you were just up there . . . doing what?”

  “Just be glad I was there. You were about to go over the side.”

  “I was?”

  “That’s the only reason I grabbed you. Because this time there was no river for you to fall into.”

  “Well . . .”

  Quinn couldn’t help but smirk a little. “It’s all right, you can say it. I won’t tell.”

  “Promise?”

  “On my honor.”

  “You have no honor.”

  “You should tell me anyway.”

  “Fine.” She blew out a breath, as if this would be the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, and she’d once faced down a volcano dragon along with her sister. “Thank you for saving my life tonight.”

  “See? Now that wasn’t so ha—”

  “Shut up,” she snapped before stalking out.

  “Why do you toy with her so?” the head cook asked, coming into the kitchens from the back room she slept in.

  “I can’t help it. I know it irritates her.”

  “Just like me son,” she said, before kissing him on the forehead. “He’s irritating too.”

  She picked up the empty platter. “Did you get any sleep tonight?”

  “Not much. But I don’t need much.”

  Pausing, she jerked her head at where Gemma had left. “You do know—”

  “I know, I know,” Quinn sighed, already disgusted with himself.

  “You know what?” Laila asked, walking in from another entrance. Behind her was Ainsley with an enormous deer carcass over her shoulders.

  When Quinn only stared at his sister, the cook laughed. “You might as well tell her. You’re going to have to eventually.”

  “She’s right,” Laila agreed. “We both know I’m only going to beat the truth out of you.”

  “You’ll try, maybe.”

  The cook returned to Quinn’s side, gripped his cheeks with both hands, and kissed his forehead again.

  “Dumb like me son too!” she laughed.

  * * *

  Gemma secured her weapons and pack, then eased open her bedroom door. She checked the corridor, listened for anyone other than guards. When she didn’t hear anything, she moved. Down the stairs and out through the back hallways. She nodded at the guards she passed, who barely paid attention to her. As was their way. Once outside, she again checked for signs of her family. Mostly her father. He’d be the only one up this early. But it was a very cold morning and he liked to snuggle up to her mum on mornings like this.

  Still, it didn’t hurt to be too careful.

  Once comfortable all was clear, she ran to the royal stables, where her horses were kept. She went right to Dagger. But he was already saddled and out of his stall. Samuel stood beside him; he was dressed and ready as well.

  Gemma shook her head and whispered, “Not this time—”

  “I’m coming.”

  “You don’t have to come, Samuel. Keeley already told you. You’ll always have a place here. And she’s made you head of the royal stables. She loves the way you treat the horses. She doesn’t trust just anyone with that job. You’d be a fool to walk away from such a position.”

  “Say what you want—I’m going with you.”

  “You can’t.” She let out a breath and admitted the truth. “They may kill me, Samuel. When I return. I have no idea what awaits me when I go back.”

  “I know. I knew that when we left. But if you go back, I go back.”

  “How did you even know I was going?”

  “I thought you were going back days ago. I’ve been waiting here the last three nights with Dagger, both of us ready to move out.”

  “Are you really sure you want to do—”

  “Are we still discussing this?”

  “Shhhh!” she begged, her hands raised to calm him. “You’ll wake up me da. And once he’s up, everyone’s up. Including Keeley.”

  “Then I guess we’d better go.”

  Knowing how stubborn he could be, she grabbed Dagger’s reins and led the horse out of the stables.

  “Your second horse?” Samuel asked.

  “Leave her.” She wasn’t going into battle. Just to inform her order of what was coming . . . and possibly to face her death. She only needed one horse for that.

  They walked their horses through the town until they reached the inner gates. Then they mounted, rode over the bridge, and turned east. But they’d only gotten a few leagues before they were forced to stop.

  “You must be kidding me!” Gemma exploded, glaring at the centaur standing across from her. He was in his natural form but without antlers or fangs. Just his ol’ horsey self. Annoying her!

  “Did you think I was going to let you ride into this danger alone?” he asked. He was doing that thing with his eyes when he attempted to look sincere. But they both knew he was never sincere.

  Samuel raised his hand. “I’m here.”

  Quinn glanced at her onetime squire before refocusing on Gemma.

  “You and I have grown so close over the years.”

  “It’s been two years and, no, we haven’t. And is all this necessary?” she asked, gesturing to the others.

  Quinn looked at his sister, her cousin Keran, Cadell, Farlan, and—to Gemma’s horror—Ainsley.

  “They insisted.”

  “No, we didn’t,” Cadell corrected. “But you threw us out of bed—”

  “And told us to move our asses,” Farlan finished. “It was rude.”

  Keran shrugged. “I had nothing better to do.”

  “I did insist,” Ainsley said. “Told them if they tried to leave without me, I would scream the bloody house down until Keeley was wide awake.”

  “I didn’t insist,” Laila added. “It was simply understood.”

  “Nothing I can do to get rid of any of you . . . is there?” Gemma asked.

  The small group looked at Ainsley. She didn’t bother to smirk. “Just keep in mind that Da has always praised my ability to call the hogs. The loudest hog caller in all the valleys, he used to say. Like to test me, Sister?”

  CHAPTER 6

  They didn’t take a break until the suns came up, when they paused by a stream to water the horses.

  While everyone was busy stretching and eating their first meal, Gemma grabbed Quinn by his ear and yanked him a few feet away.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow! Release me, evil woman!”

  “Why are you really here?” she demanded once he’d slapped her hand away.

  “I thought you wouldn’t want to face death alone.”

  “I’d prefer none of my friends to face death.”

  “Awwww. Are we friends?”

  “No. I didn’t mean you.”

  “Oh.”

  Gemma began to pace. “None of you should be here.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re here. You seem pretty convinced they’re going to kill you.”

  “I never said such a thing.”

  “You didn’t have to, Gemma. I know the price you paid to side against them two years ago.”

  “
They’re still my brothers. And I will protect them as I would my own family.”

  “They’re all war monks. How much protection could they need?”

  “All the monks and priests I sent those messengers to were powerful in their own right and they were destroyed. Everyone has weaknesses, if one is willing to exploit them. I won’t risk my brothers. I will make them the same offer that every other religious sect is getting from my sister.”

  “And will they accept?”

  She could only shrug. “I really don’t know.”

  “So they may accept . . . or they may draw and quarter you.”

  “Pretty much. Which is something I’d prefer my baby sister not to see.”

  “Ainsley . . . I’m honestly not sure it would bother her one way or the other.”

  They turned and watched Ainsley pet her horse, pressing her forehead against his snout.

  “Does Beatrix like animals?” Quinn asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then that makes me feel better. Horses are a very good judge of character.” Quinn looked down at Gemma. “Speaking of your sisters . . . how do you think Keeley will handle all this?”

  And all Gemma could do was let out a rough, “Heh,” in reply.

  * * *

  The large wood table the family ate from every day in the main hall hit the wall and shattered into pieces. The guards looked at the parents for guidance on how they should deal with the situation but they both shook their heads. And when the uncle started to go toward his niece, the father quickly grabbed him by his long hair and yanked him back. The younger siblings watched from the safety of the second-floor stairs.

  Mary’s family had been surprised when she’d come home one day and said she was going to take a job as head cook with the new queen. They thought, at first, she meant with Queen Beatrix. The money was good among those royals, but Mary didn’t want to get anywhere near that family. She’d worked for royals all her life and they were a sad group of fucks. But when the butcher had told her about this job, she couldn’t resist. A blacksmith who’d become a queen . . . if nothing else, it would be interesting. And gods love the light! She’d been right.

  Just watching that beast of a woman standing there, raging about her missing sister, big shoulders heaving, big thighs trembling. Queen Keeley wanted to tear the whole place apart. But Mary didn’t worry. Unlike those born royal, this one wouldn’t take it out on the human beings that surrounded her. She wouldn’t slap a serving girl or kill a coachman simply because she could. She wouldn’t beat her horse or kick a dog. Gods, the last thing she’d do was kick a dog. Instead . . . she broke a table. Then, when she realized that wasn’t enough to vent her rage, she turned to her mother and said, “Mum?”

  “Forge is hot and ready. Go . . . just go.”

  And off the queen went. To the forge that the queen’s mother ran. It was the queen’s mother who manufactured all the armor and weapons that the soldiers got. And Mary heard nothing but compliments from mean, hardened men who thought women were good for nothing but fucking and cleaning. Word was . . . the queen was even better than her mum at controlling fire and steel.

  The uncle started to follow but the queen’s mother stepped in front of him and said, “If you mention that goddamn axe, Archie—”

  “She owes me an axe. And since she’s going to the forge anyway. . .”

  “Not a word.”

  “But—”

  “Not. A. Word.”

  “I better get me axe out of all this drama.”

  “Do not ask my daughter for that bloody axe, old man, if you want to keep your hair. Because I’ll rip it from your head.”

  The big uncle grinned at her. “You sexy minx, Emma-luv. You always know how to—”

  “Archie!” bellowed Angus, his brother—and the woman’s husband.

  See? Entertaining as fuck.

  * * *

  They rode hard for three days. Only taking short breaks during the day to eat and let their horses rest, and to sleep a few hours at night before moving on.

  When they were about a league away from the monastery, Quinn and the other Amichais shifted to human and mounted their horses. His large war horse grunted at his weight and he patted the stallion on the neck. “Sorry, my friend. This shouldn’t be for too long, though.”

  Once they were about a mile away, riding along a tree-covered path, Quinn noticed that Ainsley and her horse were no longer with them. He was about to say something to Gemma when arrows rained down from the skies. None hit them directly but, instead, encircled them on all sides.

  The horses reared up yet didn’t panic, holding their positions. But all the long arrows surrounding them forced them into a tight circle that would make wiping them out quite easy.

  “Hold, good Brothers!” Gemma called out to the trees. “I come with important news from Queen Keeley of the Hill Lands!”

  “Brother Gemma?” a voice asked.

  “Aye, brothers. It is I. Gemma.”

  They suddenly appeared, as if the trees themselves had moved out of their way.

  “Traitor!” one snarled, pointing a damning finger. But another monk quickly pushed down his arm.

  “Have you lost your wits, Brother?” the monk asked. “This is good Brother Gemma.”

  “She has betrayed us all!”

  “She is still a brother and until the grand master makes such an accusation, you will treat her with the same respect we all deserve.”

  The angry monk sneered at Gemma in contempt, but said nothing more.

  “Thank you, Brother Richard,” Gemma said with a slight bow of her head.

  Brother Richard winked in return and smiled before motioning to the other monks. They moved forward, pulling arrows from the ground. Gemma dismounted from her horse and the rest of them followed her lead.

  “Amichais?” the monk questioned, staring specifically up at Quinn. He didn’t know why. Quinn hadn’t said anything. And he always felt that he was pleasant looking. Unlike his brother. Or even Cadell and Farlan.

  “They are part of the queen’s council,” Gemma replied.

  “The Amichais are part of your queen’s council?”

  “My queen’s council? She is the queen of us all, Brother Richard. And she has many on her council to offer her wise guidance. Is that an issue for you?”

  “It’s not for me to say. But if there is a problem, I’m sure we’ll all hear of it.”

  “We should proceed, Brother Richard,” another monk called out.

  The monks surrounded them, and they walked the rest of the way to the monastery.

  Unlike the pacifists’ monastery, the home of the Order of Righteous Valor was not what Quinn would call . . . welcoming. It wasn’t a house of worship. It wasn’t a place of sanctuary for those in need. If anything . . . it was a fortress.

  A closed fortress. The gates locked tight. There were armed monks on the ramparts. And armed monks on horseback patrolling the surrounding forest.

  The drawbridge was lowered and the gates behind it opened. They crossed over the moat. Quinn glanced down. Something was in the water below but he couldn’t see what. And he honestly didn’t want to know.

  Once they were inside the fortress, all activity stopped and every eye focused directly on them.

  A young squire was sent running to get someone in charge while the one called Brother Richard ordered, “Weapons.”

  “What about them?” Farlan asked.

  “Hand them over.”

  “Over my dead carcass.”

  Gemma put her hand on Farlan’s shoulder. “It’s all right, dear friend. Give them your weapons.”

  “Gemma—”

  “They won’t harm you. Those who willingly shed their weapons upon entering our monastery are under our protection. Is that not right, Brother Richard?”

  “Absolutely correct, Brother Gemma. We live and die by that commitment, friends of Brother Gemma.”

  Farlan growled unhappily but pulled out his swords, his
axes, his daggers, his spear, his small war hammer, his large war hammer, his shield and, finally, his flail. His bow and arrows were on his saddle. The monks looked at the pile at his feet and then back at Farlan. Soon Cadell had a similar pile except he had several morning stars instead of a flail. And a crossbow instead of a bow.

  The Amichais were firm believers in being ready for anything.

  Quinn and his sister divested themselves of less equipment but that didn’t seem to ease the monks’ caution any. Then there was Keran. Who had considerably fewer weapons, probably so she could stash an incredibly large number of flasks. So many flasks that everyone gazed at her in wonder. And she only pulled those from her clothes and travel bag because one of the monks kept asking, “What’s that metal thing? Is it a weapon?”

  “What?” Keran asked when she finally threw down the last one. “I knew it would be a long trip.”

  “Really?” Gemma softly asked Quinn. “This is who all of you were comparing me to?”

  When poor Samuel only threw down his one, barely used sword and one eating knife, one of the older monks sneered and said, “Ech. You. I don’t know why she bothered bringing you anywhere.”

  Quinn grabbed Gemma’s arm before she could start a good throttling. But thankfully, someone who seemed to be in charge had finally shown up. Unlike the rest of the monks in their black tunics with the bright red rune on the front, this one had on a white tunic with a red rune. He gazed at Gemma in a way that Quinn could not immediately read. Was that anger? Disappointment? Fear? Concern? Contempt? None of those? He really didn’t know. But he sensed it probably wasn’t good.

  “Master Sergeant Alesandro,” Gemma greeted him. “I bring important—”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “Excellent. The quicker I can get an audience with the grand master on this matter, the better. It truly can’t wait.”

  “Of course.” The master sergeant smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. Far from it. “But you do understand the rules.”

  “Rules?” Laila suddenly asked. “What rules?”

  “There’s the question of whether Brother Gemma’s a traitor or not. Many believe you are.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “That decision will be made by the grand master.”