Evina finally invited us to sit. When we were settled, she continued. “You likely have noticed that thanks to the Saxon war, Morcant’s relocation to Stirling, and the Pictish threat, my army now has three fronts to patrol, which means fewer and fewer men in each regiment. I can afford to stretch my northern army thin, but I certainly don’t wish to underestimate Morcant’s ambition—if he senses weakness, he could rebel as well—nor can I afford to skimp on troops guarding the border to Bernicia.” She pinched her mouth with her thumb and forefinger and pulled downward, as if doing so would relieve the strain such words placed upon her. “Therefore, I feel that the only way forward is to conscript soldiers from the people, which I know that they will hate, especially since harvest time is nearly
