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Heledd’s smile was gentle. “I would have gone anywhere to be with Dai. In fact, I did.”

“You moved from Deheubarth.” Dai had told her that they had returned to Heledd’s place of birth when she’d seen him earlier.

“I did. That was when I went to work for your mother at Bryn Eithin.”

Rhiannon and her parents would be forever grateful that Heledd had been willing to take that leap of faith. Rhiannon would do well to follow her example.

“Mayhap, if I am most fortunate, I will find a maid so loyal and wonderful as you in Dyffryn Clwyd.”

“I am sure you will, bach.”

Clinging to that hope, Rhiannon mustered a smile. “It is late, and I must not keep you from your bed any longer.”

Heledd nodded. “Dai will be glad to know that we have talked. He will be in the stable again tomorrow, preparing the horses for the ride to the graveyard.”

“I will watch for him,” Rhiannon said. “And for you when I am in the castle.”

Heledd walked to the door and took the handle. “Good night, Miss Rhiannon.”

This time, Rhiannon’s smile was filled with gratitude for their unexpected reunion. “Good night, Heledd.”

When the guards riding behind the last of the visiting dignitaries disappeared around the corner, Leif led his horse out of the inn’s stable. He paused in the small courtyard. Like birds going home to roost, the locals who had lined the street to watch the royalty and nobility pass were dispersing, returning to their homes and businesses now that the show of pageantry was over.

Leif scoured the emptying street. There was no sign of Knud. All being well, his friend had found somewhere to hide near the graveyard. They had determined that since he could not communicate with those within the castle, his efforts were best served in observing those attending the burial. He may not know many of the guests, but Knud could spot a smug expression as well as anyone. If there was a nobleman at Anarawd’s burial who appeared the least pleased to be there, Leif wanted to know about it.

Trusting that Knud would do his job, Leif mounted his horse and entered the road, heading the other way. He passed gray-stone houses, a tired-looking donkey tied to a stake, and a stray cat skulking beneath a hedgerow. The scattering of buildings came to an end, replaced by a grass-covered hill. Leif eyed the castle at the top. It was larger than it had seemed in the dark. The curtain wall ran around the entire circumference of the castle, making it quite clear that it was meant to protect those within. The question yet unanswered was whether it would prevent him from entering.

He approached the main gate slowly, alert to every sound—a hammer hitting an anvil, a woman’s shrill voice, and the bark of a dog. A guard appeared, and Leif slowed to a halt.

“State your business,” the guard said, eyeing Leif warily.

There was no reason to conceal that he was a stranger. The castle and tref were currently filled with them. “I am passing through the tref and was told that the castle had a blacksmith who might be willing to reshoe my horse.”

The guard frowned. “The castle blacksmith has far more important things to do.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Leif said. He could still hear the hammer. “But I would be much obliged if he would tell me how far I might travel on the shoes my horse has presently.”

The guard appeared to weigh his options. Leif sent a silent prayer heavenward and attempted to maintain a relaxed position. After what seemed like far too long, the guard stepped aside. “Be quick about it,” he barked. “And if Gethin has no time for you, you must needs go to the blacksmith in the next valley.”

“I thank you,” Leif said, and before the guard could change his mind, he rode through the castle entrance.

Following the clanging of metal, Leif turned left. The courtyard was remarkably quiet, and it did not take long for him to locate the source of the noise. He slid from his saddle, and taking his horse by its reins, he approached the man standing before a blazing fire with a hammer in his hand.

He was tall with broad shoulders and a large nose. His brown hair was tied at the nape of his neck, and a sheen of sweat covered his brow. Raising his arm, he wiped his sleeve across his forehead before picking up the horseshoe he was working on and placing it into the fire.

“Good day,” Leif said. “Gethin, is it?”

The blacksmith looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Aye. And who might you be?”

“Luc,” Leif said. “I arrived in the tref last evening and wondered if you’d be good enough to check my horse’s shoes. I fear one is coming loose.”

Gethin wiped his forehead once more. “I ’ave a groom comin’ to fit one of Prince Cadell’s ’orses within the ’alf ’our. You’ll ’ave to wait until I ’ave those shoes finished.”

“I’m much obliged,” Leif said.

Gethin grunted his acknowledgment, rotated the horseshoe in his tongs, and started pounding again. Leif waited until the ringing of metal stopped.

“I saw the cortege pass through the tref,” he said. “It appears the castle has many visitors.”