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“High Priestess,” Corva replied, bowing.

“What are you thinking?” Onnen asked Môd. “You do not want to contact the druids?”

“No. We will ride south. Perhaps we end this war before it starts,” Môd replied.

Onnen stared at Môd for a long time, then frowned. “That is old magic, Môd. It will take great sacrifice to achieve what you are planning. And it is not without risk.”

“Then we shall make great magic, sister. It is not the druids alone who know how to make the wind and trees speak.”

Onnen exhaled deeply, worry in her voice. “Then may the Cailleach and Brigantia be with us,” Onnen said somberly, to which Môd nodded.

Not understanding, I turned and looked to Corva, who wore an expression of awe—or was that fear?—on her face.

What were they planning?

The Claws of the Cailleach.

It was a sacred site I knew of but had never seen. Located near Isurium Brigantum, where Chieftain Aedan kept his seat, it was a holy place forbidden to all save our holy sisters. When Môd and Onnen told their priestesses we would travel there, the look on the women’s faces told me that they knew something of great importance that I didn’t understand.

“Corva,” I said, taking the priestess aside as Môd and Onnen spoke with the priestesses. “What is the matter?”

“The site is ancient and powerful, but it is difficult to call such magic and direct it as Môd intends to do. The Claws of the Cailleach are ancient magic that we barely understand, made by people whose names are now forgotten.”

I frowned. “Direct the magic? How?”

Corva shifted uncomfortably. She was clearly telling me something the uninitiated had no right knowing. And yet, I was queen of the Brigantes. “The claws have a way of directingthought. At least, that is what I have been told. I have never seen such a thing in action.”

“How is such a thing done?”

“With great focus and sacrifice.”

“I will attend the rite.”

“Môd will not permit it. The Claws of the Cailleach are forbidden even to our holy people. Only on Môd’s word mayanygo there. You may ask her all you like. She will not agree.”

“I do not have to ask her anything. I am queen here.”

“Shall we start calling you Caligula?”

“Only if I decide I am a goddess and that Nettle is my chief bodyguard and Fergus my lead spiritual adviser.”

Corva chuckled.

But I did not have to ask. Once Môd met with the priestesses, she rejoined me. “I would have you with us, Cartimandua. It is ancient magic we must conjure, and if we fail, you must be ready to act quickly.”

“And here I thought I might have to convince you to let me come.”

“What we will attempt has not been tried in many lifetimes.”

I set my hand on Môd’s shoulder. “We are Brigantes. There is nothing we can’t do. I will send word to Aedan to that tell him we are coming.”

“Very well. We will leave at first light.”

“I’ll be ready. Now, take your rest. We will dine tonight and set out in the morning.”

Môd nodded and then gestured to Corva, who was leaning against the wall while watching the scene. With that, the pair departed.

I rejoined my husband, who looked pensive, his arms crossed on his chest.