Page 36

“I did.”

It was Rhiannon’s turn to pause. Was it possible that a man who had participated in the mayhem and violence of a Viking raid could produce something so stunning as that particular piece of jewelry? It could not be. Surely that kind of beauty was a reflection of light within the artist. “There is no reason I should believe anything you tell me.”

“I willingly confess to having many flaws,” he said, “but I have never been accused of speaking falsehoods.”

She searched his eyes. They were troubled but showed no hint of ferocity or malice. If he spoke the truth, mayhap he would let her leave. She stepped to the right, prepared to walk around him. “Then I wish you well in your silversmithing.”

“There is something else.” He had not moved to prevent her escape, but there was something in his voice that stopped her. “Cadwaladr, brother to Owain Gwynedd, is in Dyflin. He claims he has been accused of a murder that he did not commit.”

Anger flared. “Anarawd ap Gruffydd, the prince of Deheubarth, is dead,” she said. “Killed by Cadwaladr’s blade. If it is true that Cadwaladr has sought sanctuary with the Vikings, then it would behoove your father to set an extra guard at his door.”

“It is certain that he is guilty, then?”

“How could he be otherwise?”

“If another wished Cadwaladr blamed for the crime, it would not be so very difficult to accomplish. Knives can be stolen; servants can be bribed.”

Rhiannon stared at him. What he was suggesting was treasonous. And yet, was murdering Anarawd any less so?

“Why would anyone go to such lengths?”

“Why, indeed,” Leif said. “But by the same token, why would Cadwaladr murder the man who was to be his niece’s bridegroom?”

“Because the marriage would create a strong alliance between Owain Gwynedd and Anarawd ap Gruffydd, which would increase the king’s influence considerably.”

“And would that be detrimental to Cadwaladr? I was under the impression that until this incident, the brothers were politically aligned.”

Was that true? Rhiannon knew very little of the skirmishes for power that plagued the crown, but bards often sang of the great battle against the Normans at Crug Mawr, where Owain Gwynedd and Cadwaladr fought together and successfully annexed Ceredigion to their father’s realm. Cadwaladr’s lands were in the north portion of Ceredigion. Surely an alliance with the neighboring prince of Deheubarth would have served him as well as Owain Gwynedd.

“I know very little of such things,” she confessed, “but Owain Gwynedd believes his brother is guilty and has stripped him of his lands.”

Leif looked over his shoulder at the dark swathe of trees separating the king’s llys from the shore. “So Cadwaladr’s downfall is assured,” he said softly.

Rhiannon followed his gaze, the first wisps of misgiving entering her heart. Were there lies buried within the news coming from Deheubarth and Ceredigion? And if so, how were they to be discovered? Surely Owain Gwynedd knew whom he could trust. She took an unsteady breath. If the kings’ ranting over the last week was any indication, he had considered Cadwaladr to be one of them. “I must go,” she said.

At some point during the last few minutes, her fear that Leif would do her harm or prevent her departure had disappeared.

As if to confirm her newfound conviction, he nodded. “Farewell, Rhiannon.”

Her eyes met his once more, and then clasping the lower portion of her gown in both hands, she lifted the hem off the ground and ran toward the trees without looking back.

Chapter 17

Rhiannon paused outside the heavy wooden door leading to the great hall, attempting to catch her breath after her swift descent from the floor above. A low rumble of voices reached her from within. She grimaced. No matter that she’d ridden her horse at a gallop and had changed out of her sand-encrusted gown the moment she’d set foot in her bedchamber, she was late. And since the queen insisted that Rhiannon sit with the family at the head table, her belated arrival would be noted by all in attendance.

Seeking a small measure of extra courage, she pressed her fingers to her mother’s necklace and reached for the door.

“Rhiannon. Wait.”

Rapid footsteps sounded on the flagstones behind her, and she turned to see Hywel approaching.

“It is better that we enter together, do you not think?”

Relief brought a smile to her face. It was the first time she had seen Hywel since his return to the llys late last night. “I should say that making an inexcusably late entrance with the edling is infinitely better than making one on my own,” she said.

His grin was a welcome sight even if it did not completely hide his exhaustion. “It is good to see you after so long,” he said.

“I am glad you are returned.” She studied his face. “It was a difficult journey, I imagine.”