Page 37

The smile vanished. “A difficult journey and an even more difficult task.”

“It is done, then. Cadwaladr has nothing to return to.”

“His castle is burned to the ground,” Hywel said bluntly.

Rhiannon waited for the sense of relief she had expected at his pronouncement. It was uncomfortably absent. Pushing aside the seed of doubt Leif had planted in her mind, she turned her thoughts to how this news might affect Gwenllian. “Have you told your sister?”

He shook his head. “Since returning, I have spoken to no one but my father.” He frowned. “How does Gwenllian fare?”

“She has suffered greatly, but she left her chamber to visit the stables yesterday, and today, she accompanied me and Cadwgan to the market.”

“You are good for her, Rhiannon.”

“I understand something of her pain.”

“Two years ago, it was yours,” he said.

“Yes.” After all she’d experienced in the last few hours, she did not wish to dwell on those memories. Perhaps Hywel felt similarly, because he reached for the door handle she’d relinquished.

“Come,” he said. “I am hungry.”

Rhiannon followed him into the room. Men and women ceased their chatter and rose to their feet. Hywel offered a few of them a polite nod, but he did not stop until he reached the head table, where he bowed to his father and mother. Rhiannon curtsied beside him.

“My apologies for my late arrival, Father.”

Owain Gwynedd frowned, and Rhiannon made the silent observation that she had not seen him smile since the news of Anarawd’s death had reached him.

“After so many days traveling, I would have thought your stomach would have called you to the great hall for food before now,” the king said.

“I believe it was trying, Sire, but it was unable to penetrate the thick fog of sleep that fell upon me the moment I reclaimed my bed.”

“Hm.” Owain Gwynedd’s gaze turned to Rhiannon. “And you, Rhiannon? Have you been sleeping the evening away also?”

“No, Sire. I was exercising one of the horses.” It was true. In a manner of speaking.

“Well, the head table is sadly lacking in occupants, so you had best be seated.” He waved Hywel to the empty seat at his right, and Rhiannon moved to sit on the other side of the table, where, to her pleasure, Gwenllian was seated beside her mother.

“I am happy that you are here,” Rhiannon said. Eating at the head table without her cousin for the last eight days had been an unexpected challenge. Owain Gwynedd’s dour mood had affected everyone, and she could only endure listening to complaints about the cost of grain and the latest machinations of the Marcher Lords for so long.

“I came in search of you,” Gwenllian said. “You have been gone for hours.”

Guilt at the concern she had so obviously caused pricked at Rhiannon’s conscience. “You know how poorly I keep track of the time when I am by the sea.”

“Yes, but you were in distress when you left the market.”

Rhiannon reached for a piece of bread from the basket on the table, trying to determine how much she should say. “I am much improved.”

“I am glad.” She hesitated. “Cadwgan was furious that you left unaccompanied.”

Rhiannon frowned. Since they had no formal marriage agreement, it was not Cadwgan’s place to dictate where she went or with whom. “Where is Cadwgan now?” The chair beside Hywel was vacant.

Gwenllian speared a piece of pork with her knife and stared at it as though willing herself to eat it.

“He has gone after the Norseman,” she said.

Rhiannon set down her bread. “Why would he do such a thing?”

Gwenllian shrugged. “The Norseman humiliated him at the marketplace.”