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“I understand, my queen.”

With that, I turned and made my way back inside, finding Kamden just inside the door.

“Ah, I was coming to find you,” I told him.

“Queen Cartimandua?”

“Send a messenger into the village. Check on Greer and Heather. If they sustained any damage from the storm, see that it’s made right. They are always welcome here if they need to come to the fort.”

“Very well, my queen.”

“And have the messenger stop by the cloth vendor at the market. Inquire if there is any purple cloth to be had.”

“There never is, my queen.”

I smiled softly at Kamden, who did not truly understand the meaning of the question I was posing of the vendor—whose true job was to convey news from Gaul. “No. But you never know when your luck might change. Any word of Priestess Corva?”

“No, my queen.”

I frowned. “I will ride for Isurium Brigantum in the morning. If the king consort or Corva return, please let them know.”

“Very well,” he replied, then hurried off.

Yawning, Fabius joined me. He looked outside, wincing in the early morning sunlight. “What was that storm? I couldn’t sleep. Such a strange wind. Finally, I got up and went to get a flagon of Roman wine. I figured you wouldn’t mind. After a cup or two, I was visited by Lord Somnus and slept the rest of the night,” he said, then stretched. “You look full of fire this morning. What are you doing?”

“Repairing walls.”

“Expecting an invasion?” he asked with a laugh, but when he saw the expression on my face, he paused. “Queen Cartimandua?”

“Get dressed,” I told him. “You can ride with me to Isurium Brigantum.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, wincing. “That’s so far. And on horseback,” he added with a frown. “Why?”

I smirked at him in reply, then passed him by.

“Queen Cartimandua? Cartimandua?”

As I preparedto ride to Isurium Brigantum, I tried to think through every step that would follow next. I could see the tumbling of pins that could, if I was not careful, lead me to a war with the Parisii once more. But there were other things I also knew to be true.

King Ruith’s son was dead, and I had defeated his chosen heir, Alistair. His only remaining child, Alys, was married to one of my chieftains. Ruith had much to lose in tangling with me. Something told me he wouldn’t be interested in starting another war with the Brigantes, particularly when the Catuvellauni looked for any signs of weakness in the other tribes. If I plotted my next steps carefully, I could avoid war and maintain an upper hand over Ruith.

But it was not just the fire to my south that I had to worry about.

The little people warned of more: three wars.

The Parisii chieftain whose time had come was the most obvious. What about the rest?

It was late in the night when the first of the men Conall’s three ales had summoned began to arrive.

A man I knew only as Tree, the spy who listened and watched my northern borders, was the first to come. Corva usually took the messages on my behalf, but she still had not returned. So, it was Conall who led the man into the fort, the pair of us meeting in an unused storage room at the back of the fort where the others rarely trod.

He arrived carrying a case of jugs, which he left with the other crates in the room.

“Queen Cartimandua,” he said, bowing to me. “I am glad to see you well.”

“And you, Tree. What news from Carvetti lands?”

“Aside from a moping and unhappy Parisii princess and grumbling Carvetti lords, it is quiet.”