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“I daresay she feels better when she is with you also.” Rhiannon patted Hazel’s neck. “What say you to that, girl?”

The horse nickered and rubbed its nose against Gwenllian’s shoulder. Gwenllian smiled. It was likely the first smile she had offered in a week, and it brought Rhiannon hope.

“Very well,” Gwenllian said. “A short ride. After noon.”

“Did you hear that, Ioan?” Rhiannon asked the young stableboy.

“Yes, Miss Rhiannon. I’ll have Hazel made ready.”

“And a mount for Miss Rhiannon, if you would,” Gwenllian said. She glanced at Rhiannon. “I’ll not go without you.”

“I am happy to accompany you.” Once they were mounted, Rhiannon would suggest that they ride toward the market. After horses, Gwenllian’s greatest love was purchasing exotic fabric and jewelry from traveling merchants.

As the stableboy led Hazel back to her stall, Rhiannon and Gwenllian stepped out of the stable in time to hear a shout at the entrance of the llys. A couple of guards ran to open the gate, and a dozen men on horseback clattered into the courtyard.

“Is it Hywel?” Gwenllian’s voice wavered. “Has he finally returned with news?”

“No.” Rhiannon stared at the man riding at the head of the party. “It’s Cadwgan.”

Four months had passed since the nobleman had visited the llys, and she’d heard nothing from him in the interim. She had thought of him occasionally during that time, wondering if she would ever be more important in his life than she was now. But she had never craved his company the way she’d seen Gwenllian long for Anarawd’s. She ran her hands down her green wool gown and straightened her shoulders. No matter his unexpected arrival or their uncertain relationship, she would greet Cadwgan with cordiality and poise.

“Shall we cross the courtyard to receive him?” Rhiannon asked.

“I would rather not,” Gwenllian admitted. “But my father would expect nothing less.”

Rhiannon slid her arm through Gwenllian’s. “And you will save me from having to greet him alone.”

“Does seeing him again cause you anxiety?”

“Not exactly.” How could she explain the emptiness she felt when she did not understand it herself? “But having you with me will certainly ease the initial awkwardness of speaking to him again after so long apart.”

Gwenllian gave her an understanding look. “Cadwgan has never been one to show his feelings, but I am sure he will be happy to see you.”

Feigning confidence she did not feel, Rhiannon nodded. Gwenllian had known Cadwgan since childhood and certainly understood the nobleman’s temperament better than she.

At their approach, Cadwgan slid from his saddle.

“Good evening, Gwenllian. Rhiannon.” He bowed, and when he raised his head, his dark eyes met Rhiannon’s, but when he spoke again, it was to address Gwenllian. “I am glad to see you looking so well, cousin.”

Mayhap it was the fading light that hid Gwenllian’s wan complexion and puffy eyes. Or perchance Cadwgan had chosen courtesy over truth. Whatever the reason, Gwenllian mustered a weak smile. “You are kind to say so.” She raised her head slightly. “Welcome to the llys, Cadwgan.”

“I wish I were here under happier circumstances,” he said. “I was a member of the groom’s party at Dinefwr Castle when Anarawd’s death occurred and had every intention of coming directly to Ynys Môn to offer my condolences, but I met Hywel on my way. His journey to the llys was so swift, he had already spoken to your father and was en route to Ceredigion. I offered to assist him in fulfilling the king’s charge to strip your uncle of his lands and possessions.”

“It is done, then?” Gwenllian said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Aye. Hywel and his men are only a few hours behind us. I daresay he will wish to be the one to report to your father on all that occurred.”

Gwenllian nodded, and Rhiannon caught the glisten of tears in her eyes. She tightened her grip on Gwenllian’s arm. This was not how she wanted their outing to the stables to end. “We are grateful for the news, Cadwgan,” Rhiannon said. “Waiting for word has been difficult for us all but especially for the king and Gwenllian.”

“I am glad to be of service,” Cadwgan said. “I pray that this act of retribution will enable Gwenllian to move past any disappointment she may have experienced.”

Rhiannon frowned. She had yet to hear a priest couple prayer with retribution. Surely there was an obvious incompatibility between the two actions. And to relegate Gwenllian’s current suffering to something as inconsequential as disappointment was as thoughtless as it was absurd. Rhiannon took a step back, pulling Gwenllian with her. “It is good that you are arrived safely. And I feel sure that Owain Gwynedd will be even more grateful to have Hywel return and hear the news he bears. But it is growing late, and as I gave my word to Gwenllian that our visit to the stables would be of a short duration, we will take our leave of you now.”

“Of course.” His eyes flashed in the moonlight, but Rhiannon was unable to identify the nature of the emotion exposed there before he dipped his head. When he raised it again, his expression was placid. “Mayhap I could accompany you on an outing beyond the confines of the llys on the morrow? I have been told that the market in Aberffraw is the best on the island.”

A trip to the market was precisely what Rhiannon had planned for Gwenllian’s first excursion beyond the confines of the royal court. But had Cadwgan intended to include them both in his invitation? Rhiannon could not tell, and although the nobleman’s gaze had fallen upon her, his expression revealed nothing.

“If the fair weather holds, that would be most agreeable,” she said. “Gwenllian and I would be happy to join you. We shall be ready at nones.”