It was the third day after leaving Cantleheath. MacKenna was surprised to see the Queen decided to wear a kilt, and more so that she had two sashes pinned to make an actual dress. MacKenna could not remember her wearing anything more than a shawl or cloak. The Queen had been mounted and waiting before the rest of them were, too. She normally walked until midmorning. The sergeant knew the Queen had not lain with anyone but her maid, so it was not that she could be with child. ‘She does look awful flushed in de face, and she be sweatin’ like she’d been in a sweat lodge. Maybe she be under tha weather?’ Around midafternoon, MacKenna held back, waving Max and Anderson to ride on.

“Ya’ feelin’ a’ight, Majesty? Ye doona be looking right,” she said, keeping her voice low.

The Queen smiled tightly, nodded too quickly. She squeaked, “Mmmhmm. I… I am… mmph… I am fine.”

The sergeant gave the Queen the look she deserved.

The Queen looked up at the men riding ahead, and sighed. The sigh turned into a low moan that she cut off quickly. “Fine. I… It is no use hiding it. I am gooooinngg… to need Mmmm Max to help mmme when we stop…” The Queen shivered, her eyes closing. She raised her kilt up on one side, exposing all the way up to her hip. There were a few extra straps buckled on top of the Queen’s saddle running underneath her, and another around her upper thigh.

MacKenna looked at the configuration in confusion, letting it show at she met the Queen’s pained gaze. MacKenna was even more confused. The expression looked less like pain and more like the look of an orgasm. A good one at that. Something clicked in the sergeant’s head, and her eyes went wide.

The Queen nodded, letting her kilt drop back down. “When Ingaaahh… and I were going through the papers, weeee… found designs for a sss…mmmm… special saddle … harness.