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“The Norseman simply did not wish to fight.”

Gwenllian gave her an odd look. “I thought the Norseman upset you.”

“He did.” Rhiannon reached for another piece of bread even though she had yet to finish her first one. “Seeing him again . . .” Catching her mistake, she started differently. “Seeing Norsemen again for the first time since the Vikings raided my home was a shock. I pray it will not be so difficult next time.”

“I have never seen them at the market in Aberffraw before,” Gwenllian said. “Mayhap they will not return.”

“That would be best.”

Gwenllian had yet to put the piece of meat on her knife into her mouth. “If Cadwgan finds them, it is certain.”

On the beach, Leif had approached her so stealthily, Rhiannon had had no idea the direction he had come or why he had not yet gone to sea. Vikings were known for taking to the water at the first sign of trouble. Cadwgan may have made a cursory sweep of the town and its environs, but surely his focus by now would be at the shore.

“I pray his pursuit does not lead to bloodshed.”

“Cadwgan can take care of himself,” Gwenllian said.

A vision of Leif standing tall, broad-shouldered, and strong, with the relentless roar of the ocean’s waves behind him, filled her mind, and she found that she did not share Gwenllian’s confidence.

Swallowing her anxiety with some bread, she pointed to the piece of meat on Gwenllian’s knife. “Looking at it will do you no good.”

Her cousin sighed and took a small bite. “My stomach tells me otherwise.”

Rhiannon offered her a sympathetic look but the queen saved her from saying anything more on the subject. She had turned from her conversation with the king in time to see Gwenllian sample the meat.

“I am glad to see you eating once more, Gwenllian,” she said. “Your father has just informed me that we are to leave for Deheubarth at week’s end. You must do all you can to regain your strength in that time.”

“Deheubarth?” Gwenllian said. “At week’s end?”

“Yes.” Her mother set her hand comfortingly over Gwenllian’s. “The king has determined that we must all attend Anarawd’s burial. He has not given up hope of forging an alliance between our two kingdoms, but after Cadwaladr’s treacherous act, it is imperative that we show our respect and loyalty to Deheubarth’s royal family.”

Gwenllian paled. “Hywel has only now returned from stripping Cadwaladr of his land and castle. Anarawd’s murderer has been cast out of Gwynedd. Does that not show support enough?”

“Those things have done much to reassure Anarawd’s family of your father’s determination to right a grievous wrong, but negotiations between the two must start anew.”

Neither Rhiannon nor Gwenllian mistook the queen’s underlying meaning. The search for another husband with strong political ties—preferably from within the kingdom of Deheubarth—had begun.

Gwenllian’s chin quivered, but she raised it fractionally. “I understand.”

The queen patted the hand beneath hers. “All will be well, Gwenllian. Your father will ensure it.”

Leif heard the horses’ hooves before he saw the riders. Crouching behind some of the larger rocks atop the promontory, he watched a dark-haired man on a black mount break through the pine trees and start across the dunes. Behind him, five more riders followed.

The man in the lead pointed north and then south. “Spread out!” His shouted command carried on the breeze. “I want every inch of this bay covered. Inform me immediately if you discover anything that might suggest the Norsemen were here.”

Leif’s eyes were instantly drawn to the far end of the beach, where he and Rhiannon had spoken. He’d been wise to return across the sand at the water’s edge. Already, the tide had covered his footprints. The only remaining signs that someone had been on the beach recently were the displaced sand along the base of the cliff and the trail Rhiannon had left. If any of the men spotted the latter, they would realize the footprints were too small to belong to a tall Norseman. The former may cause problems.

Already, the riders had scattered. Their leader had chosen to ride toward this end of the bay. Staying in the shadows, Leif watched as the rider emerged from around one of the sand dunes and paused to face the rocky headland. Cadwgan. Leif pressed himself against the rock and counted to ten. When the thud of hooves against wet sand signaled Cadwgan was moving once more, Leif dared another look. The nobleman was making for the promontory.

Descending the other side of the headland as quickly as possible, Leif pulled the rope anchoring his boat out from around the boulder at the water’s edge.

“Your time to rest is over, Knud.” He dropped into the small craft and shook his friend’s shoulder to rouse him. “We must be away.”

Instantly alert, Knud reached for his oars. “The tide?”

“It will have to do.” Leif wound up the rope and set it beneath his seat before taking up his own oars. “A group of riders led by Cadwgan ap Gronw is on the beach. They’re searching for Norsemen.”

“How long before they reach us?” Knud asked, already pushing the boat away from land.