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“Aye. There’s not much I don’t know.”

“I daresay it’s been especially unsettled there recently,” Leif said as though he already knew all the details.

“Terrible, it’s been.” The fishmonger dropped the plaice back onto the barrow with a slap. “I’ve ’eard tell that the princess ’as yet to eat a morsel or leave ’er chambers, and the king’s been in a rage for days.” He shook his head. “To have ’er bridegroom murdered on the very week of ’er weddin’. And by ’er uncle, no less. Well, it’s not surprisin’ Owain Gwynedd is furious, is it?”

“What is he threatening to do?”

“What ’as ’e already done’s more like it,” the fishmonger said. “Prince Hywel was barely at the llys long enough to change ’orses afore Owain Gwynedd sent ’im to Ceredigion to seize Cadwaladr’s land and possessions. If Cadwaladr ever sets foot on Gwynedd’s soil again, I reckon ’e’ll be killed by the king’s own ’and.”

Leif nodded, his mind racing. It would seem that Cadwaladr had not exaggerated the threat to his life. But what of his assertions of innocence? “Is it a surety that Cadwaladr is guilty of the murder?”

“Whether or not the prince performed the deed, I cannot say, but by all accounts, the fatal wound was caused by Cadwaladr’s dagger.”

Cadwaladr’s flight immediately after the discovery of his weapon at the scene of the crime certainly pointed to his being involved.

“It’s no wonder that the king’s wrath was swift and sure,” Leif said.

“No wonder, indeed.” The fishmonger waved his hands over the barrow and displaced at least a dozen flies. “With Anarawd’s death, ’e lost a valuable alliance.”

“And a brother,” Leif said thoughtfully. If Calwaladr spoke the truth about his innocence, what would be the greatest motivation for another perpetrator: the loss of a political allegiance or the severing of a close family tie?

The fishmonger might have said more, but his attention had strayed from Leif and the fish to a small group of people entering the square on horseback.

“Well now,” he said, standing a little taller and straightening his tunic. “This really is somethin’.”

“Do you know the new arrivals?” Leif asked.

“It’s Princess Gwenllian—out of ’er chambers at last. And with ’er are ’er cousins, Cadwgan ap Gronw and Rhiannon ferch Iorwerth.”

Leif stilled. Rhiannon. The name had haunted him for over two years, but he had not heard it spoken since he’d stood outside a faraway longhouse. He took a deep breath. Reason told him that Rhiannon was a common enough name in Gwynedd and that the young lady entering the marketplace could not possibly be the same person he’d encountered farther south on the mainland. Unfortunately, his thumping heart was not listening to reason.

Chapter 15

Rhiannon watched Cadwgan assist Gwenllian off her mount, noting her cousin’s hesitant smile when she landed on her feet and turned to survey the busy marketplace. It had taken every grain of persuasive power Rhiannon possessed to convince her cousin to accompany her and Cadwgan on this outing. But now that they were here, she hoped Gwenllian’s love for browsing through the stalls would overcome her earlier reluctance.

“Rhiannon? Are you ready to dismount?”

With a start, Rhiannon realized that while she’d been focused on Gwenllian, Cadwgan had moved to stand beside her horse. “Yes, of course.” She released the reins, and he raised his arms to lift her down. His hands were firm and his arms strong, and when he set her on the ground, she raised her eyes to his. “I thank you,” she said softly.

He offered her a ghost of a smile and released her. “My pleasure.”

Rhiannon swallowed her disappointment. Even though Cadwgan preferred to keep his emotions hidden, it would have been encouraging to see more proof of his supposed pleasure.

She looked away. Truth be told, no matter that his hands had been at her waist, her pulse had maintained its steady beat throughout. Cadwgan was not the only one unaffected by their close proximity.

Two of Cadwgan’s men stepped forward to claim their mounts’ reins, and Cadwgan gestured toward the center of the square. “Shall we proceed?”

With the first glimmer of enthusiasm Gwenllian had shown in days, she nodded. “I believe the wool merchants are here today. Mayhap they have something new.”

Rhiannon smiled. “I think we should visit their stall first.”

The local people stepped aside, politely inclining their heads or bobbing a curtsy as Gwenllian passed by. A few exchanged surprised whispers, but Gwenllian’s presence at the market was sufficiently commonplace to cause no great distraction. The normalcy was good for her, and as they made their way to the far corner of the marketplace and the wool merchants’ stall, Rhiannon saw the despair that had hovered over Gwenllian for so long begin to dissipate.

“Is there anything in particular that you are hoping to find?” Rhiannon asked.

“If they have any blue cloth, I will purchase it,” Gwenllian said without hesitation. “The merchant assured me that he would have some this month.” She offered Rhiannon a sly look. “I asked him to save it for me.”

Rhiannon laughed. “Then I am doubly glad we are come. The merchant has likely been watching for you all week.”