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Cadwgan grabbed her arm again. Burning pain seared through her. “Oh, but you will.” He leaned closer. “When we enter the stables, I will ask for the observant groom whose tongue is too loose for his own good. If you do not follow my every direction, he will die.”

The ground shifted beneath Rhiannon. She closed her eyes, praying that she could maintain her faculties long enough to do her part.

“Come!” Cadwgan pushed open the stable door and shoved her inside. “And remember, my knife may no longer be at your neck, but it remains as deadly as ever.”

Rhiannon stumbled into the dimly lit space. The air was filled with the odor of horses and the rustle of hooves against the straw-covered floor. Cadwgan kicked the door. It swung back the way it had come but did not close all the way. The draft rattled the tack hanging on the wall and caused the candle on the shelf above to waver. A young boy with straw stuck in his dark hair staggered out of the nearest stall.

“’Evenin’, m’ lord,” he said. “Miss.” He inclined his head.

“We require two horses immediately,” Cadwgan said. “And I wish to speak with the groom who assisted the men fleeing the castle the night Prince Anarawd was murdered.”

If the boy was surprised by the request, he hid it well. “Yes, m’ lord.” He backed up a pace. “I’ll fetch Dai and then get to work saddlin’ yer horses.”

“Be quick about it,” Cadwgan snapped.

The stableboy disappeared in a flurry of thin legs. In a nearby stall, a horse shifted, bumping the wooden sides of its enclosure. On the other side of the narrow aisle, another horse nickered. Cadwgan peered into the shadows, the increased tension in the hand he had wrapped around her arm his first show of unease. Rhiannon bent her knees slightly, attempting to stave off the faintness threatening to overtake her, grateful that Cadwgan’s rough treatment was keeping her alert and standing.

Voices—one young and insistent, the other low and rumbling—approached.

Cadwgan bent his head so that his mouth was at her ear. “Remember. His life is in your hands, Rhiannon.”

Not wishing to give Cadwgan the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her eyes, she closed them, waiting until Dai’s heavier footsteps rounded the nearest stall.

“You wished to see me, my lord.” Dai stepped forward, and Rhiannon opened her eyes in time to see recognition flare in his. “Miss Rhiannon,” he said, inclining his head.

“Ah, so you know each other,” Cadwgan said. “How convenient.”

“Convenient, my lord?” Dai looked from Rhiannon to Cadwgan and back again, his confusion obvious.

“Indeed. You will know exactly which horse is best suited for my betrothed.”

Panic coursed through Rhiannon’s veins. As much as she did not wish to facilitate Cadwgan’s escape, she could not be the reason something happened to Dai. Heledd had almost lost him once already. Somehow, she must warn him of the danger without alerting Cadwgan to it.

“Will you be riding far, my lord?” Dai asked.

“We will. And we have no time to waste.” Irritation tinged Cadwgan’s words.

“Our departure is being made in such haste, I was unable to say farewell to your wife, Dai,” Rhiannon said. “Please offer my regrets, along with my thanks to Myfanwy for her assistance whilst I was at the castle.”

Dai blinked. Rhiannon hardly dared to breathe. Would he openly question her memory or her sanity? Or would he know that Rhiannon could no more forget Heledd’s name than her own? Cadwgan’s knife was back in its sheath hanging from his girdle, but Dai’s gaze flitted to the nobleman’s hold on her arm, and the candlelight picked up the tightening of his jaw. “I’ll tell her, miss. I know for a fact that Myfanwy was right glad to be of service.”

Rhiannon’s knees almost buckled with relief. Dai understood. Cadwgan, however, was losing patience.

“We have no time for idle chatter. Bring us our mounts.”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll have them out to you straightway.”

Dai started back the way he had come. He signaled the boy who had greeted them when they’d first entered the stable and spoke to him in low, urgent tones. The boy nodded a few times before darting around the mounting block toward the doors. Cadwgan saw him coming and stepped directly into his path.

“Tell me, what is it that has you leaving the stables at this hour?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I . . . I was just . . .” The boy stammered. “Goin’ fer more water.”

“Fetch it after we leave,” Cadwgan said. “Until then, I suggest you saddle me a horse faster than you have ever saddled a horse before.”

The stableboy fled, and Cadwgan swung Rhiannon to face him.

“What did you do?” he growled.