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“Kamden, I need your help. Fabius is underdressed for a hard winter. I would see him outfitted with new boots, gloves, cloak, shirts, and trousers. A full wardrobe. Will you attend to it?”

“Of course, my queen. And may I add, we were skeptical of the man at first, but he has brought great color to the staff. We all enjoy his presence here.”

“Good. Then let’s see that he does not suffer frostbite on the Cailleach’s account,” I replied.

“I will see it done.”

“Thank you,” I replied, then headed off again, glad of my luck. A bit of coin spread through Regnenses territory and beyond to the ports at Gaul confirmed Fabius’s story. Apparently, he’d been laughed out of taverns in Gaul. He had been performing on the streets in Regnenses lands before Corva’s eyes discovered him. Nothing had disproved his story, and the man seemed genuinely grateful to have landed in Rigodonum. While I knew nothing of his half-goat god, I was eager to learn more about his people and their ways.

Because something told me that one day, it might save my life.

CHAPTER 7

While I was grateful for Fabius’s tutoring, the Romans were not my only concern. A rider arrived, braving the deep snow, days before Yule with important news.

I had only seen the man once or twice before. He arrived just before midnight with a sealed letter on which were stamped the wings of a crow, a secret symbol for the network of spies Corva had created. He handed me the note.

“Kamden,” I told the housecarl, “see to it our visitor has something to drink and a hot meal. Privately.”

Kamden nodded.

“Queen Cartimandua,” the man said, bowing to me, then followed behind the housecarl.

Cormag had been sitting in the workroom with Corva and me, all of us preoccupied with our interests. Cormag had been carving little wooden animals in anticipation of delighting his children. Corva had been working her blades on a whetstone. I had been struggling to read a leaflet Fabius had given me, one of many in his collection, which contained the tale of a man named Orpheus who had traveled to the Roman Otherworld to retrieve his lost wife. I tried to focus on the story, but my mind went again and again to the little ones growing inside me. Already, Ifelt the roundness in my belly and the first flutters of movement. It was hard to imagine that I would be a mother in a few short months.

Our silence had been broken by the message.

Cormag joined Corva and me.

I cracked the seal on the note and read the message scrawled within.

“Cam is dead,” I said, then handed the note to Cormag.

“Now, your maid will take her father’s seat,” Corva replied.

“Contested or uncontested, that is the question,” I answered. “She may ask for support soon if she finds herself unable to keep her position.”

“How confident is she that she and her father rousted the rebels from Setantii lands?”

“When she wrote to me after Samhain, she assured me everything was in hand.”

“And do you believe that, my queen?” Cormag asked.

“My crow whispers that some secret meetings are still taking place in Bell’s Harbor. We cannot yet determine if they are merely disgruntled men or if they would move to topple Ystradwel.”

“She must take her place and consolidate her power quickly,” Corva added.

“You cannot advise her to do so until word comes from her. Otherwise, you will give yourself away,” Cormag said, gesturing to the note.

“She will be greatly grieved,” I said sadly, feeling guilt in my heart. How long had we kept her from her father, only to have her lose him so soon? “We must wait for Ystradwel’s word, but in the meantime, make ready. We must act if forces move against her, winter or not.”

The others nodded.

“And now we wait,” Corva said.

Cormag nodded. “And now we wait.”

Word camefrom Ystradwel several days later. She apologized for the late delay, saying that while she knew the death was coming, she was unprepared for the weight of it on her heart. They had sent her father to the Otherworld by lighted barge, shipping him off to the deep once more where he would join her mother. Afterward, the priestesses of the sea goddess Chlíodhna had seen her crowned as a chieftain in a small, private ceremony. Thus far, the Setantii had been quiet, merely mourning Cam. There had been no sign of rebellion.