Page 62 of Queen of the Hollow Hills

I sat down on my bed, looking at my sweet daughters. With a sigh, I pulled out the leather pouch Kamden had brought me earlier and began reading the notes from my little crows.

The news from beyond my borders told of strife, illness, and games of shifting powers. The king of the Greater Iceni’s health was failing. The brother of the king of the Northern Iceni was plotting secretly against his kin. The Catuvellauni had lied, bribed, or bullied allegiance out of the western tribes. And to my north, Queen Moirin of the Damnonii had survivedan assassination attempt, leaving her to execute an entire chieftain’s family—the queen, apparently, had about as much patience with rebellion as I did. The news from the Crow People was that of peace and calm. I had not told Cormag I had people watching his mother, but Corva had suggested it all the same, and I was not sorry. Mael Muire was one thing, but she had enemies amongst her own people. Now that the princesses had been born… Cormag was Mael Muire’s only heir. Those ambitious Votadini would not want to be ruled by my daughters.

I sighed, then lay back, rubbing my temples. My head had started aching as I considered the weight of dealing with not just with my own tribe but the Votadini’s future. I needed to do everything I could to protect Regan’s and Aelith’s claims. I needed to take the girls to Din Eydin when they were old enough. The Votadini needed to see Cormag’s daughters.

But even as I thought about everything Ineededto attend to, my mind began slipping toward dreams. As my spirit fluttered away to that liminal space, it was not my family I thought of. It was—to both my comfort and my shame—Eddin.

CHAPTER 17

Nearly two months later, I was sitting in my bedchamber, Regan sleeping in a sling on my chest while Aelith lay asleep in a bassinet nearby. Cormag had gone for the day. A farm nearby had experienced harsh flooding. He went with a party of men to help the farmer see to repairs.

I gazed down at little Regan, who slept with her mouth open, her lips puckered in tiny rosebuds. My firstborn daughter, tiny princess, and future queen of the Brigantes. Already, her personality was showing through. She was adamant when she wanted something, crying until her needs were met, and crying louder when they were not met fast enough. Her black hair had not faded, growing thicker and darker since birth. Aelith, who slept soundly, her arms flung above her head, was her sister’s opposite. A quiet, watchful girl, she rarely fussed, and when she did so, there was a demureness to her manner…my fair-haired princess. I could not wait for them to grow and show us who they would become.

In this silent moment, the last thing I expected was a commotion in the square below. First, I heard the guards on the gates call. Then, I heard Conall shouting in greeting.

Moving slowly to not wake the girls, I went to the door.

When I opened it, I was surprised to find a mud-spattered Corva, her cape billowing as she hurried down the corridor, coming toward me.

“Corva,” I said, reading the serious expression on her face.

She bowed to me and then said. “I have sent riders to Môd and Onnen.”

“What’s happening?” I asked, holding Regan tighter against me.

The priestess met my gaze, her eyes steely, and replied, “Rome.”

I gesturedfor her to enter my bedchamber.

“Will you not take some rest?” I asked her as she unrolled a parchment stuffed into her pocket.

“There is no time,” she told me. “Emperor Caligula has ridden from Rome at the head of his army, carrying war machines with him as he advances upon the coast across the channel. They are readying ships for an assault onBrittania, as they call us.”

“By the gods, I?—”

“Ousted King Verica rides with Caligula. Cartimandua, the emperor is a madman. There is no telling what he may do, and for the most part, the southern tribes are sleeping. The Cantiaci seem to be making ready. The Regnenses have been preparing for something but not war. Their tribe has maintained close connections with Rome, trade and the like. They must know Rome is coming, but?—"

“Corva, where have you been?”

“Mydils to Durovernum to Gaul and beyond. I saw the armies myself. They are marching, albeit slowly, north.”

“There has been nothing about Rome. And now…”

“Caligula ate nothing but fish for a month, trying to gain the favor of the Roman sea god. He listened to Neptune’s whispers with a clam shell to his ear. Finally, the god summoned the man to march his army north. Now, with Verica at his side, he rides.”

“His mind is touched?”

“Or the gods do speak to him. Caligula is despised by Roman leaders—save his horse, who is a councilman—but still, they bend their knees and call him a god. No wonder the man believes the sea god his friend.”

My heart thumped in my chest. Was this what the Cailleach had warned of? The eagle had flown and was making its way north once more. Was this the vision of blood and fire that even the Setantii goddess feared?

All signs suggested it was, and yet…

Something felt wrong.

Something felt off here.

“Cartimandua?” Corva said, eyeing me. “What is it?”

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