Page 8 of Queen of the Hollow Hills

“Nothing…”

“Cormag.”

“It is the Cailleach’s season.”

“Yes, but Brigantia sleeps in the winter to prepare to give new life in the spring. You are a child of the Cailleach, and now you are King Consort of the Brigantes. We will trust that the dark lady looks after her own.”

Cormag paused. I could sense he wanted to say something more but merely said, “I am sure you are right.”

“Let’s say nothing to the chieftains. I will send for Onnen after they have gone to ensure all is well with the child. And I will moderate my eating so as not to be too obvious,” I said with a laugh.

Cormag chuckled, then set his hand on my belly. “Boy or girl?”

“It makes no difference to me.”

“Nor I,” Cormag replied then kissed me again. “I also taste honey…and garum.”

I laughed. “I was in the kitchens.”

Cormag laughed.

“Verbia was there. She set an egg before me. How is it you both knew before me?”

He kissed the side of my head and pulled me toward him. “Verbia is wise. I am merely watchful of every curve of your body.

“Are you?”

“Aside from learning the ways of the Brigantes, it is my primary area of study.”

“Well, then. I will have a demonstration of what you have learned.”

Cormag kissed me once more. “Are you…are you feeling well enough?”

“Only a little full. Otherwise, perfectly ready to observe your skills.”

At that, Cormag kissed me once more, then began by gently stroking my leg. “Then let us begin.”

CHAPTER 4

Iwoke the following morning to find a thin beam of sunlight shining through the slats on the window shutters. I lay still for a long time, watching Cormag breathe, my eyes tracing the tattooed markings on his body. His long, black hair shimmered almost blue in the sunlight.

I set my hand on my stomach.

A child… Of all the thoughts circling in my mind, a child was not one of them. I needed to ensure the Parisii stayed in line, the Carvetti did not rebel, the Setantii remained part of the Brigantes when Cam died, and then there were my visions… Far across the ocean, embers rose. And to my west, Eddin sat on his throne once more.

Alone.

All these thoughts clouded my mind, and yet, Brigantia would have her way: a prince or princess for the Brigantes and the Votadini. Our child would inherit the seat of two mighty tribes and unite old enemies once and for all.

All that assuming I managed to keep control of what was mine and not lose it to enemies at home or from beyond our shores.

With that thought in mind, I slipped from my bed, pulled on a robe, and began readying myself for the day. I pulled a brush through my long, black locks and began thinking about the pickled eggs and onion, only to be met with?—

A wave of nausea washed over me, and I found myself racing for a bucket.

In the most undignified manner possible, I relieved myself of my stomach fluids, waking Cormag in the process.

“Cartimandua,” he called gently, hurrying to me. He helped me hold back my hair and stayed with me, rubbing my back until the worst of it was over. Cormag then rose and poured me some water.

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