Page 10 of Queen of the Hollow Hills (Eagles and Crows #3)

CHAPTER 9

D espite his insistence that he was fine, his snowy pallor and sweating were enough for Arixus to determine that Cormag should go to bed at once. He gave him a tonic to counteract any contamination on the arrowhead, then sent Cormag to rest. Arixus offered to stay the night to watch, so Kamden gave him a room just down the hall from my own. Damhan and Brodi slept in chairs in the bedroom, unwilling to leave their prince. The men’s dogs also curled up at their feet.

I was relieved when Arixus’s tonic lulled Cormag to sleep.

Unable to rest, I watched Cormag, ensuring no fever came on. Thankfully, he was all right.

Conall provided reports throughout the night.

“Two Brigantes men—brothers—spotted the assailant in the crowd,” Conall told me. “They met with Corva. Apparently, they saw the first arrow fired. The man was hiding beside the well. They raced to stop him, but he shot the second arrow, hitting the king consort. He was about to get a third shot off when the men rushed him and knocked him down, but when the king consort was struck, the crowd panicked and the man escaped in the confusion. They last spotted him fleeing on horseback out the western road. Corva headed that way after him.”

“Were they hurt?”

“No.”

“Thank the twin goddesses. Have Kamden send them a case of mead in thanks. Any sign of Corva since?” I asked.

Conall shook his head. “Not yet. There is no telling when she will return. You must rest, my queen. It was a long day topped off with a hard ride and much distress. You must think of your little ones. The crows are here to watch over you and the prince,” he said, gesturing to Damhan and Brodi, “and their dogs,” he added with a smirk. Beef lay on his back, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. Scratch was in a similarly awkward position. But Fergus had crawled onto the bed beside Cormag.

“If there is any room for me,” I said, gesturing.

Conall chuckled.

“Very well, but you will wake me when there is any news. Promise?”

“Yes, my queen.”

At that, Conall departed. I fetched blankets from the wardrobe, which I draped on the sleeping Votadini, and then crawled beside my husband.

Cormag slept soundly, the light from the brazier making patterns of black and orange dance across his face.

I set my hand on my belly.

He had risked himself for me—for us.

I closed my eyes. Of all the ways my life could have gone, married to the Bastard Prince of the Votadini, who loved me enough to sacrifice himself to protect me, was the last thing I had expected.

But in that dark moment, when shadows came for me, I felt more loved than I had ever felt before in my life.

I slipped my hand into Cormag’s open palm, careful not to wake him, then drifted off to sleep.

When I woke the following day, the sun had already risen. I was confused when I first woke up, but then I realized there were whispering voices outside the door. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Conall.

“Conall?” I asked.

“I am sorry to wake you, Cartimandua. Corva has returned and is below. She is asking for you to join her. She has something she wants you to see.”

“Carti?” Cormag whispered.

“I’m sorry, my love. Corva is here. I must go see her.”

“I will come. Help me up.”

“Cormag—”

“Help me, my blackthorn queen.”

I pulled on a heavy robe and went around the side of the bed, helping Cormag sit upright. I set my hand on his forehead. He had dark rings under his eyes and looked sleepy but had no fever.

“Let me get your cloak,” I told Cormag.

As I passed Damhan and Brodi, I chuckled. Some guards they turned out to be. The pair were still sleeping soundly where I’d left them, their dogs along with them. But Fergus rose, following us.

Cormag slipped on his boots, and we followed Conall outside to the courtyard.

Looking sleepless and disheveled, Corva stood by her horse, on which was a body wrapped in a tarp.

“Corva,” I said, joining her.

“Are you well, Cartimandua? You and the bairns?” she asked, her voice sounding worried.

I nodded.

“King Consort?” Corva asked.

“Little more than a bee sting.”

Corva gave him a knowing look, then turned to the body slumped on her saddle.

“I tracked the rider from Rigodonum southeast to an abandoned farmstead.”

“Southeast?” Conall asked, with the implications being obvious.

Southeast was the direct route to Parisii country.

Corva nodded to Conall. “I lost him for a short time in the woods and then picked up his trail again in the snow. My delay in following him allowed someone else to get to him first. When I arrived at the farmstead, the would-be assassin was already dead,” she said, then pulled back the tarp enough to reveal the man’s throat had been slit. “He should be glad of a clean death. I had far worse planned for him.”

“Who did it?”

“Two horses left the farmstead and went to the river. They must have kept to the water for a time. The snow covered their tracks. I could not find them again. I’m sorry, my queen.”

“He was not acting alone,” Conall said, then gestured to two of the guards to take the body.

“Someone wanted to keep him quiet,” Corva agreed.

“Lower the body onto the wagon,” Conall told his men.

We joined them, watching as they unwrapped the man’s body. His dress was unremarkable, and he had no distinguishing features inked on his skin or otherwise.

“Anything on him?” Conall asked.

Corva nodded. “A pocket full of Parisii coins and a signet ring with a Parisii fighting man.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Red-haired too,” Conall commented. “Guess they wanted to make really sure we suspected the Parisii.”

“Should have dressed him in the Parisii gold and black,” Cormag said.

“No. Now, that would have been a step too far,” I replied.

Corva laughed. “Shall we check his leathers? All stamped in Brough, I am certain.”

We all frowned at what was a blatant attempt by someone to ensure we believed the man was Parisii.

“Carvetti?” Conall asked in a low voice.

“Perhaps,” Corva considered. “He had a ration bag. Nothing remarkable. Some dried apple, a round of bread, and salted beef and fish.”

Cormag looked over the body. “The coin and ring were placed on him, but an archer’s bow… That would be his own.”

Corva went to retrieve the weapon from her horse. She looked it over, her eyes scanning the piece. “I am sure no one is surprised that this is not Parisii design. In fact, it looks like something from éire,” she said, handing it to Cormag.

My husband flexed the bow in his hands. “Elm.”

Corva dug into her satchel and pulled out the ration bag. She took out the round of bread and broke it in half, smelled the ingredients, then broke the crumb of the bread and rubbed it between her fingers, considering. She frowned but said nothing.

“At least one thing is certain,” Conall said, covering the body once more. “He was not Parisii. In the very least, we can rule them out.”

“He did not act alone. Someone sent him. This is not one man with a grudge against Cartimandua. This is someone sent to kill a queen,” Corva replied.

“It is no news to me that I have enemies,” I said, looking at the dead man. “But an assassin is…unexpected.”

Wrapped in his heavy cloak, Fabius joined us. He eyed the man. “Your assassin?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Hmm,” Fabius mused, then took the round of bread from Corva’s hand and took a bite.

“Wait!” Corva said, but Fabius frowned and handed it back to her.

“Disgusting. Too much sea salt…and it tastes like fish.”

Corva’s brow furrowed, and she took a bite of the bread herself. “I taste… It’s not salt. It’s kelp.”

“Odd,” I said.

She nodded. “Conall, will you have the men take the corpse to the dungeon? I wish to study the body further,” Corva told the guard, who nodded.

A moment later, a horn sounded, and the gates to the fort opened. I was surprised to see Onnen, along with two other priestesses of Brigantia, their white robes whipping in the wind.

“Onnen,” I called in greeting.

Onnen dismounted carefully, one of the other priestesses steadying her as she stepped onto the frozen courtyard stones.

“Queen Cartimandua, we received word of the attempt on your life and the injury to King Consort Cormag. I wanted to come and see both of you,” she told me, but then her eyes drifted to the body.

“The assailant?”

“Yes.”

Onnen nodded slowly. “That is two attempts on your life in the last twelve moons, my queen. Would you rival Bellnorix? He sometimes had one a month.”

I laughed. “My grandfather was too stone-hearted to be killed by a mere arrow.”

“Indeed, neither blade nor illness would win him over. Only time.”

“Come. We are done here. Let’s go inside,” I said, then turned to Cormag. “You should rest.”

“As should you.”

Corva reached out to take the bow from Cormag. “May I?”

He nodded and then handed it to her.

Onnen paused to meet her gaze. “Priestess.”

“Holy Mother,” Corva replied, giving her a short bow.

Onnen shifted her gaze to Fabius. “You are the Roman I have heard of.”

Fabius gave her a deep bow, flinging his cloak flamboyantly. “Fabius Tiberius, Great Lady. On the stage, I am known as Fabius the Fabulous.”

Onnen raised an eyebrow at him.

“Fabius was an actor in Rome,” Corva explained.

“A player of comedies and tragedies, High Lady,” Fabius explained.

“And with important ladies, which landed him in Gaul with a price on his head,” Corva added.

Fabius gasped in protest. “You will ruin my reputation before a lady of obvious importance.”

“Onnen is High Priestess of Brigantia,” I explained.

“Priestess, I have learned of your Brigantia. She is much like our Juno, with a pinch of Venus,” Fabius said with a smile.

“I know little of the Roman gods,” Onnen told him dismissively then turned to Cormag. “Let me see to your injury, King Consort,” Onnen said, escorting Cormag back inside.

“I—” Fabius began.

“That was a warm greeting,” Corva whispered to Fabius, clapping him on the back. “Onnen is the nice one. You have not yet med M?d.”

I chuckled, then followed Onnen and Cormag inside.

“What will you do with the body?” I heard Fabius ask Corva.

“We will take him to the dungeons, strip him, and look for markings,” Corva replied.

“Oh, dear,” Fabius said in surprise. “Priestess Corva, it is a bit early for such idiosyncrasies, is it not?”

Corva heaved an exasperated sigh.

I chuckled and then hurried to catch up with Onnen.

“Who was it?” Onnen asked me.

“It was not the Parisii. That is the only thing I am certain of. Someone made every effort to make it appear as though it were—his clothes, a ring, his coin.”

Onnen let out a soft “hmm,” then added, “May bright Brigantia be thanked you are alive, but I will check on the babes. It is too much excitement. Any pain or blood?”

“No, Holy Mother.”

“Your cheek.”

“The fletching of an arrow that narrowly missed.”

“Damned close.”

“It was.”

“And you, King Consort? Should we expect Mael Muire to come to reclaim you from hostile Brigantes lands?”

“A man must protect his wife and children. She knows that.”

“Well spoken. Now, Cartimandua, send your servants to fetch me a warm, spiced mead and minced pie. If I must ride to Rigodonum in the cold on Yuletide, the least you can do is afford me some of your leftover treats.”

“Would you like a parcel with a ribbon and buckle? I think the children have left a few.”

“Indeed, I would,” she said with a smile. “You keep the assassins, my young queen. I will keep the ribbons and sweets.”

“Fabius has a Saturnalia pantomime he can perform if you want to see it. Shall I call him?”

“Decidedly not,” she said, then laughed. “Most definitely not.”

After ensuring that Cormag’s wound had been treated and dressed to her satisfaction and that neither I nor the children had sustained any injury, Onnen took her rest.

While she slept, I went looking for Corva. Despite the severe winter temperatures, when I finally found her, she was in her chamber packing her gear.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She bobbed her chin at the bow. “To find the maker of that bow.”

“The mountain passes will be snowbound. It’s not safe.”

She paused. “I’ll be all right.”

“Corva, it is not safe.”

“It is my job to ensure you are safe. That is the task given to me by M?d and the Cailleach. Already, I have failed you. It is only by chance that Prince Cormag sustained only mild injury. I must find who is behind this.”

“Which can wait until the thaw.”

“At which point, your enemies may be marching on you!”

“Or, you will leave me without a guard, putting me in danger.”

“You are already in danger.”

“Corva,” I said, seeing she was holding back tears. “Corva…”

“King Eddin failed because my father did not protect him. We lost our lands, our home, our name, our tribe! And this…” she said, pointing to her face. “What beauty Brigantia granted to me was stolen by Carvetti fires. The Brigantes protected me when I was lost, and you have given the Dardani people their king back. I have one job, Cartimandua, and that is to protect you, and I have failed utterly,” she said, dashing tears of frustration from her cheeks.

“Corva,” I said softly. “You are much more to me than a shield. You are my friend, but no more all-seeing than I am. We will both miss things, make mistakes, and maybe fail from time to time, but I do not blame you. The man who wielded that bow and whoever sent him are to blame. But having you freeze to death in the mountains will not help anything. It will not protect me, Cormag, or them,” I said, touching my belly. “I need you here. And in the spring, we will discover the truth. I am certain many people wish me dead, my friend. They have failed this time but may try again. I need you here.”

“Cartimandua… I… I am so sorry.”

I shook my head then moved gently toward her, well aware that Corva did not often consent to be touched. I took her hand. For a brief moment, I saw the scars thereon. Was her whole body burned? “There is nothing to apologize for. Our crows will listen, and we will learn the truth as the gods will. The only thing I won’t forgive any of you for is if you let me go this entire pregnancy without walnuts.”

At that, Corva laughed. She squeezed my hand, let me go, and then wiped her tears away.

“Thank you, Cartimandua.”

“Now, unpack. Even if you can’t go traipsing across the mountains in the middle of winter, that does not mean there isn’t work to be done. No wallowing, Priestess. Join me in the meeting room when you are done,” I told her, then left.

As I made my way from her chamber, I considered the issue of the assassin. Someone knew I would be hosting a Yule celebration in Rigodonum, something I had never done before and an event I had planned less than a week before the festivities. There were unfriendly eyes in Rigodonum. Perhaps Corva did not have to travel far from home to learn the truth. Someone wanted me dead. Now, I only had to discover who and end them before they ended me.