“Don’t think for a moment, cousin, that you are in charge. Because you’re not.”

“I’m a princess! And put me down, you giantess!”

Brannie shook Keita hard, shocking the royal into near-silence.

“Why, you—”

“Listen well, cousin, this little adventure that is pulling me away from my troops, from my friends, and kin, will be run by me. The Mì-runach report to me. You report to me. That is the only way this is happening. If you fight me on this . . . if you get lippy, complain, try to poison us—”

“I just saved them from poisoning!”

“—or get on my nerves in any way—”

“What?” Keita boldly demanded. “What will you do to me? Kill me? Scar me? Do you think there’s really anything that you, peasant, can do to me? A daughter of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar!”

“I’ll tell your father . . . everything.”

The princess, dangling from her much larger cousin’s hands, snorted a laugh.

“Tell him what? My father has no delusions about me. He already knows everything about—”

“He knows you poisoned him?”

Keita’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. “Wha-what?”

“Oh, yes. I know about that. All those days poor Uncle Bercelak was sick . . . after eating one of your victims.”

“That was an accident.”

“And poisoning a horse in the first place? What is wrong with you?”

“I needed a test subject! It never occurred to me Daddy would eat it.”

“You didn’t even tell him why he was sick.” She “tsk’d” her cousin. “How many elders did Uncle Bercelak kill thinking they were the ones who had him poisoned?”

Keita’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t remember.”

Brannie smiled. “I do. So let’s not forget our place, shall we? This is a military operation and royals don’t run those unless they are warriors like your brothers. Or a Battle Witch like your sister. So you, cousin, will do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Or Uncle Bercelak will find out what a bitch of a daughter he truly has. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

Brannie pulled her hands back and the princess fell to the ground hard and on her ass.

Glaring up at Brannie, Keita snarled, “Cow!”

“Viper.”

“Brannie,” Aidan said. “We need to get somewhere safe . . . and with untainted water. Caswyn needs a healer, I’m afraid.”

“No, no, my brother,” Caswyn choked out. “My ancestors are waiting for me on the other side. Just let me—”

“Oh, shut up!” Brannie snapped, grabbing some of the chain mail armor and yanking it on. “If you think, for a second, Caswyn the Butcher, that you’ll be getting out of this shitty little assignment except on the end of my spear, you’re gravely mistaken. Die on your own time! Now let’s move out!”

* * *

They took what they needed from the original traveling party, although Brannie was quite disappointed in the weapons. The guards only had swords and eating knives, and the workmanship on all did not meet the Cadwaladr’s very high standard.