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In the years that had passed since Rhiannon’s mother’s death, Heledd had become more of a companion to Rhiannon than a maid, and she was not beyond giving Rhiannon directions.

Rhiannon obediently rose from the stool where she’d been sitting. In this instance, Heledd was surely right. It would not do to disappoint her father again so soon after he’d been forced to come searching for her.

“Has there been any sighting of Cadwgan ap Gronw and his men?” she asked.

“Not that I’ve heard.” Heledd chuckled. “Your father sent Eifion to watch for them. With how fleet of foot that lad is, he’ll be back here long before the nobleman and his retinue ride into the yard.”

Rhiannon nodded. Eifion was their stableboy. He was small and wiry, and at twelve years of age, he could outrun every one of her father’s retainers—including men with far longer legs. Not only that, but he would take his responsibility as lookout very seriously and would return to report the moment he spotted the travelers.

Running her hands down her green gown, Rhiannon squared her narrow shoulders. The sky was clear this evening. If Eifion positioned himself on the bluff above the house, the moonlight would enable him to see a good stretch of the coast road. Since he had not yet returned, she surely had a few moments to compose herself.

“All will be well, bach,” Heledd said. “Cadwgan ap Gronw will be mesmerized by you.”

“Is that how it was for Dai?” she asked, referring to Heledd’s husband who worked as her father’s head groom. “Did you mesmerize him at first sight?”

“I hardly think my appearance would mesmerize anyone. I’m far too plain.”

Rhiannon considered the older lady critically. Her skin was wrinkled, her fingers workworn, and her hips wide, but until now, Rhiannon had never noticed any of those things. “Whatever plainness you claim to possess is not seen by others,” Rhiannon said.

“You have known me long enough to look beyond those things, bach. And I believe the same can be said for Dai.”

“But what of his first glance?”

Heledd’s brown eyes crinkled. “I believe he had eyes only for my fish pie. That was what won him over.”

Rhiannon sighed. “I cannot make fish pie.”

“A lady of your standing and beauty has no need to make fish pie.”

“Perhaps not. But whether it is how well I make fish pie or something else entirely, I should like to have a gentleman come to know my likes and dislikes, my strengths and weaknesses, rather than to make assumptions based merely on what he sees.”

Giving her an understanding look, Heledd crossed the room and picked up a small wooden box. She carried it back to Rhiannon. “There’s no cause for you to feel any less than your mother, bach. If she were here, she would have stood beside you tonight, exceptionally proud of the young lady you have become.” She opened the lid. “Here. Take something of hers with you and let it bring you an extra measure of courage.”

Rhiannon gazed into the box. A silver brooch and a gold bracelet lay beside a ringed cross hanging from a silver chain. Reaching for the necklace, she fastened the clasp around her neck. The ornately carved silver cross rested against her chest. She pressed her hand against it and closed her eyes, picturing her mother standing in the great hall, wearing her burgundy gown and this necklace as she welcomed a party from Owain Gwynedd’s court to her home. She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened her eyes. “I thank you, Heledd. I should have thought to wear Mam’s necklace.”

“It’s a small thing, but mayhap it will make her feel nearer.”

Rhiannon released an unsteady breath. “I must go to my father.”

“Yes.” Setting the jewelry box back on the table, Heledd gave her an encouraging smile. “It is time.”

Leaving her bedchamber, Rhiannon walked the short distance to the great hall. Colorful tapestries hung on the walls, and fresh straw lay on the wooden floor. Three long tables had been positioned in a horseshoe-shaped configuration. Wooden trenchers and goblets lined each table along with flagons of mead, baskets of bread, and platters of fruit.

In the center of the room, meat sizzled on a spit above a blazing fire. The firelight was augmented by candles burning at the center of each table and in the windows.

Myfanwy, the young maid who helped in the kitchen, entered the room, another basket in her hands. The smell of baking bread followed her, coming from the oven across the yard. Bobbing a curtsy to Rhiannon, she began taking knives out of the basket and setting them on the table.

Rhiannon crossed the room to join her father, who stood near the head table, talking to Dai. The groom had likely come to update her father on the state of the two foals born to her father’s prize mare in the early hours of the morning. If it weren’t for the pending arrival of his guests, her father would have undoubtedly spent all evening in the stable.

“Good evening, Father. Dai.” She summoned a smile.

Both men turned to face her. Dai inclined his head politely.

“Good evening, Miss Rhiannon.”

Her father took a little longer to respond, his gaze softening as he met her eyes. “You look lovely, bach.”

“Thanks largely to Heledd,” Rhiannon admitted.