“I see your five berries,” said Princess Ardria, reaching into the bag by her side. She pulled out a handful of the small, red berries, collected from the side of the road that morning, counted out ten and dropped the rest back into the bag. Then she carefully placed the ten on the suitcase she and Teena, her handmaid, had laid across the seat between them. One rolled towards the edge as the carriage bounced over a particularly large pothole in the road. She scooped it up before it could disappear onto the floor, to join the dozens of others that had already gone there, and replaced it alongside its fellows. “And I raise you five more.”

     Teena examined her cards with all the intensity of a bomb disposal expert faced with a destructive device created by a mad genius. Her gaze flicked to the Princess's three cards that lay face up on the table, then darted back to her own cards. The Princess thought she could almost hear the buzzing of high speed machinery inside her head as she considered her options. “Card,” she said at last, taking one of the cards from her hand and placing it on the discard pile.

     Ardria dealt her another card, face down on the table, to replace it. Teena picked it up and added it to her hand. More careful deliberations took place, and then she reached into her own bag of berries and counted out twenty. “I see your ten, and I raise you ten more,” she said.

     Ardria scowled, discarded a card from her own hand and dealt herself another to replace it. She examined her cards, pretending to be engrossed in them, then looked up suddenly to catch a smile on her handmaid’s face that she hid immediately. The two women stared at each other, suspicion in Ardria's steely grey eyes, pure innocence in Teena’s soft brown irises. Then Ardria stared at Teena's berry bag, plump and full of berries, while hers was almost empty.

     “When I asked whether you’d ever played this game before, you said no,” she said. “Are you sure that was, in fact, the truth?”

     “Yes,” protested the handmaid innocently. “I've never played this game before today.”

     “Never?” insisted Ardria.

     A guilty looked crept across the handmaid's face. “Well, I've never played this game before, but there’s another game the servants sometimes play below stairs, when their duties allow.”

     “A game similar to this one?”

     “It has elements in common with this game,” The handmaid admitted, “but it’s a completely different game. I promise I would never lie to you, Your Highness.”

     “Hmmmm.” She glanced across at Tamwell, the Captain of her escort guard, sitting in the carriage’s other seat, facing them. He was trying to hide a faint smile. When he saw the Princess glaring at him he cleared his throat and turned to look out the window.

     “Very well,” said Ardria. “let’s see what you’ve got. I call.” She placed her cards face up on the table, beside the two that already lay there. “A crew,” she declared. “Sixes and eights.”

     “Family of Coins,” declared Teena triumphantly, laying down her own cards for inspection. She scooped up all the berries on the suitcase and dropped them into her bag. “Another hand?” she asked, smiling brightly.

     “Why not? Captain, would you like to join us this time? The game goes much better with three players, and I'm sure Teena will be delighted to divide her berries with you.”

     “I’m on duty, Your Highness,” the Captain replied. “I have to remain alert for any threat that might present itself.”

     “Yes, of course. Very well, Teena, just you and me again, but I'm on to your little tricks now. Don't think you'll be able to fool me quite so easily again.”

     “Of course not, Your Highness.”

     Something in her tone made Ardria look across at her again, and Teena made a big show of feeling the weight of her berry bag before looking innocently back at the Princess.

     “You know, I could have you executed, just on a whim,” the Princess pointed out. “I could order Tamwell here to plunge his sword right into your heart, right now.”

     “But you wouldn’t do that,” replied Teena confidently.

     “Oh? And why wouldn't I?”

     “All the blood would ruin the upholstery.”

     “Unfortunately, she has a point,” Ardria admitted to the Captain. She gathered all the cards together, shuffled them and dealt two each to herself and the handmaid, face down on the suitcase. Then she dealt three more each, face up.

     “Why do you always deal?” asked Teena.

     “Because I'm the Princess and heir to the Kingdom and you’re just an annoying maid.”

     “Okay. Just so long as there’s a good reason.” She picked up her face down cards and examined them carefully.

     Ardria picked up her berry bag, looked inside it. “One other thing,” she said. “I'm instigating a berry tax. You are hereby required to give half of all your berries to the Crown.” She held out her bag expectantly.

     “I thought only the reigning monarch could instigate a new tax.”

     “In circumstances in which the reigning monarch is incapacitated or unavailable, and the circumstances warrant it, the next in line in succession may enact such measures as he or she considers necessary.” She shook her bag expectantly. “So hand them over.”

     “The reigning monarch isn't incapacitated or unavailable.”

     “He's not here, is he? Do you have a telegraph machine tucked away in your luggage somewhere? Have we been trailing a telegraph wire behind us ever since we left Marboll?” She shook her bag again.

     Teena sighed and scooped two handfuls of berries from her bag into the Princess’s. “When the glorious day comes,” she said, “I'll be leading the revolution.”

     Tamwell sat up straight in his seat and his hand reached for his pistol.

     “That was a joke!” cried Teena, her eyes wide with fear. “A joke! I'd never lead a revolution! Please, Your Highness!”

     “At ease, Captain,” said Ardria. “It was just a joke.”

     Tamwell looked at her, then relaxed, although he gave the handmaid another stern gaze before returning his gaze to the view through the window.

     “Perhaps we should give the humorous banter a rest for a while,” said Ardria. “We joke around when we're alone together, with no-one to overhear, but right now we're surrounded by armed men willing to kill and die to protect me, and they have the example of Soonia Darniss to remind them to keep an eye on even the most trusted servant. I trust you more than any other living person, Teena, but these men don't know you like I do. It was my fault. I forgot our situation and began joking. You just followed where I led.”

     “No apology is needed, Highness. I give thanks that the good Captain here watches over you so carefully...” Her voice broke off and she looked out the window. “Was that thunder?” she asked.

     Ardria looked out through her own window. There were clouds on the horizon ahead of them, but very far away. Overhead, the sun was bright and warm, and shortly beforehand the Princess had asked for the windows to be opened, to allow a cool breeze to blow through.

      Now that they were listening for it, they heard a succession of thuds and booms from somewhere ahead, muffled by distance, and the Princess sat upright in her seat, looking alarmed. “No, I don't think it is,” she replied. “Tamwell?”

     The Captain rapped three times on the ceiling and the carriage slowed to a stop as the driver pulled on the reins. “No, it’s not,” he said as he opened the door and stepped out. “Please stay in the carriage, Your Highness.”

     Outside, the two dozen members of the escort cavalry had also stopped, some ahead of the carriage, some behind. Near the back of the column, Soonia Darniss, still wearing a prison smock, sat on a horse that was tethered to a Helberion Ranger’s horse by a rope tied between the pummels of their saddles.

     The ranger who'd been at the very front of the column was bringing his horse back at a light canter. He stopped beside the Captain and dismounted. Ardria strained her ears to hear what they were saying.

     “It's a battle, isn't it?” said the handmaid in a quiet, scared voice. “There's fighting ahead of us.”

     “There shouldn’t be,” the Princess replied. “Carrow should be pushing for the capital with everything they've got. There's no reason for them to be... Oh, of course. Adams Valley.”

     “What's that?” asked Teena.

     More booms came to them, each one rumbling with echoes as the sound was reflected from hills and buildings. Cannon fire. The explosive detonation of large calibre shells. Either Carrow softening up a Helberion defensive position in preparation for an advance, or Helberion cannons trying to slow down an advancing Carrow column. It wouldn't be both at once. No-one would risk firing their artillery while the other side was firing because it would give away their positions. One side fired, while the other side kept their heads down, and then the other side fired while the first took cover. So who was firing now? Ardria hoped it was them, and that every thump she heard, accompanied by a faint tremor transmitted through the ground and up through the carriage’s primitive suspension, signalled the deaths of several invading enemy troops.