“And this . . . Sprenger?”
“He’s the new grand master. He defeated Joshua in Challenge.”
“And all these pious monks are okay with that?”
“Most of them are okay with it because a lot of them don’t know what he used to do. A lot of the older ones have died in battle. Some have been hit in the head so many times, they barely remember their names. But I remember. And what I know is that now Sprenger is back in power, eventually he’ll start again. Because men like that don’t change. They never change. Because unless people like us continue to hold them to account, they never have to change.”
“And you plan to stay here and hold him to account?”
“All I know, Quinn, is that there’s no way I can let a rapist lead my monastery.”
“Do you have any idea how many rapists rule towns? Cities? Countries?”
“I handle what I can handle, Amichai. And Sprenger is my debt to pay.”
“They’ll never let you near him.”
Gemma nodded and stood, putting the chair back. “Maybe. I’m sure he’s always surrounded by his allies. And he’s smart enough to know he’s still not in a safe position here. At least not while I’m alive. Because I’ll never let him or anyone else forget what he did.”
Quinn also stood and put his chair back against the wall. Probably not where it belonged but close enough.
“So what are you going to do? Run around telling everyone he’s a rapist? I hate to say it, but they won’t believe you. They’ll think you’re just being petty. A bunch of them already think you’re a traitor. The others will think you’re just upset about Joshua.”
Gemma moved his chair back exactly where it had been before replying, “I know. I know all of that.”
“Then what’s your plan?”
“To do what I should have done that night when I was cleaning out Sin Killer’s hooves,” she told him before heading back to the door where Kir still stood guard. “Destroy that motherfucker.”
CHAPTER 9
As the two suns set, Ainsley wondered if her sister had even realized she was gone. She doubted it since Gemma and Keeley seemed to constantly forget her existence.
Annoyed even thinking about the pair of them, she went back to simply watching everything that went on around her.
She’d found a nice spot in a very large tree hours ago and had been there ever since. She could look all around without being seen, which was just what she wanted. But as darkness grew, she began to hear strange noises. Sounds that she’d never heard before. Strange, since she’d heard most forest sounds. She’d grown up more in the forest than she had with her actual family. It was easier to fall asleep in trees than it was among her siblings or her amorous parents. So she thought she knew every sound. Every bird, every cat, every bear, every wolf. Even snakes and bugs. But the sound she heard moaning on the wind . . .
Ainsley leaned forward and let the sound lead her; head tilting one way, then another. Finally, she realized it came from a large mass of trees far in the distance. It almost looked like another forest surrounding a clearing but colors seemed to be rising from that clearing . . . which was just odd. Perhaps the monks were performing rituals or something in that clearing, but rituals that caused strange lights to rise from the darkness?
That sort of thing usually led to witches being burned alive.
Interested enough to leave her safe spot in the tree, Ainsley was about to get down when she heard a sound she knew quite well these days. The clanking of armored horses.
She leaned back to let the leaves hide her presence just as an army of blood-covered monks rode past on the path to the monastery.
Ainsley didn’t think much about it. It was the third or fourth group of knights she’d seen ride into the monastery so far. Most had been smaller units. A battalion. A squad. But this was the first actual army, which meant it was being led by an actual general. She briefly wondered what a monk general was like. Like the generals that reported to her sister the queen? Or different? All gods and praying and sacrificing goats? She guessed she’d find out soon enough. But for now, she should probably get some sleep.
The army disappeared inside the monastery and she realized that the strange sound coming from that clearing had stopped. So had the even stranger light. Maybe she was just tired from all that riding and had started to see things. She didn’t know. She just knew she was ready to take a break. She could think about strange sounds later.
And whether her gods-damn sister had even noticed that Ainsley was gone!
* * *
It didn’t take Gemma long to realize that Sprenger wasn’t in the mood to deal with her. As soon as she and Quinn walked out of the armory, several monks approached them to show the way to “your private cells.”
Quinn had immediately panicked. “They’re taking us to prison?”
Kir had laughed and slapped Quinn’s back, sending the Amichai tumbling right into the other monks. Luckily they were all warriors so they kept their feet and were able to get the centaur back on his.
“No, no, my new friend!” Kir had said, oblivious as always to his own strength. “Cells are just what we call our rooms. Our sleeping chambers. Why would we put you in prison?”
Kir was also oblivious to the mood of the people around him. He didn’t really see that the monastery was split right down the middle between the allies of Joshua and the allies of Sprenger. Poor, giant, crying bastard.
So the monks took Gemma and her traveling companions to the third floor, where each got a cell equipped with a good amount of food and water. Although Keran bellowing, “Where the fuck is the ale, ya fanatic bastards?” when the doors were closed made them no extra friends.
Yet after a hearty meal and the luxury of a hot bath, Gemma still couldn’t relax. She paced her room like a caged jungle cat.
When she heard armored horses ride into the courtyard below, she moved to her stained-glass window and opened it so she could see below. It took her less than a second to recognize the general leading the army of knights.
Master General Ragna.
Each member of her army had been handpicked. Each member of her army answered to no one but Ragna. And Ragna answered to no one but the grand master himself. But everyone knew that her loyalty was to the war gods only. If Morthwyl asked her to burn down the monastery with everyone still inside it, everyone knew she would do it without asking one question.
What that meant, though, was that Ragna had no obvious loyalty to Joshua or Sprenger. She was a wild card none of them needed at the moment.
So, as soon as Gemma saw her riding into the courtyard, she said the only thing she could think of . . . “Oh, fuck.”
* * *
Looking up from the book she was reading, Katla let out a deep sigh when she saw Ragna ride her massive stallion into the courtyard, and growled out the only thing she could think of, “Shit and balls!”
* * *
Shona was staring out into the night, not really thinking about anything, as she liked to do most nights, when she saw Master General Ragna ride into the courtyard below. The general gave a few orders to those who reported directly to her, then turned her stallion around and rode out of the courtyard again.
As Shona watched Ragna go—knowing she would return—she made note of their current situation: “We are so fucked.”
* * *
Kir smiled happily in his sleep, dreaming his favorite dream about singing roses and dancing bunnies. He loved the dancing bunnies. They were just so cute!
* * *
“What do you mean I can’t have that little bitch executed?” Sprenger demanded of the grand elder monks.
Thomassin glanced at the others before noting, “I’m not exactly sure how much clearer we can be than to say, ‘You can’t kill her.’”
“She’s a traitor! A deserter!”
“She left on orders of the grand master.”
“We have his signed orders here,” Brín noted, gesturing to the documents with a lazy hand. “He logged these into the library with Mariello himself the day she left. Mariello will happily testify to that if you need him to.”
“Making her not a traitor and not a deserter. More importantly—”
“Much more importantly,” Bartholemew grumbled, his arms resting on the table, his head resting on his arms.
“—she came here with an offer of protection from the Queen of the Hill Lands. So not only would we be executing a princess—”
“A false princess,” Sprenger felt the need to add.
The nine elders gazed at him blankly—even his allies—before Brín agreed with a sigh, “Okay.”
“—but a princess who brought overtures of goodwill. I’m not sure that’s a reputation we want. You know . . . as monks.”
“Let’s also keep in mind that Brother Gemma is the sister of”—Bartholemew held up his middle and forefinger—“two queens.”
Sprenger spun away from them and Bartholemew kept his fingers raised but turned his hand and flicked it. Thomassin slammed his friend’s hand down on the table just as Sprenger spun back around, his eyes narrowing on their falsely smiling faces.
“I know of at least one queen that will not cry at the loss of such a sister.”
“Dearest Grand Master, I don’t think any of us should guess how deep the bond of blood truly goes between sisters. You may think you have permission to annihilate Brother Gemma, but then there are sisterly regrets and the blaming of those holding blood-covered swords.”
“You always were the one with the pretty words, Thomassin.”
“We strive to stick with our strengths, Brother.”
“Fine. What do you suggest?”
“Suggest?”
“Yes. How do I get rid of her?”
“By letting her go?”
For a moment, the grand master’s face became so red, Thomassin truly believed that his head would explode all over them. It took him several minutes before he could speak.