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She nodded and then flinched. Her wound was paining her still. “Now that you have uncovered the truth about Anarawd’s death, I daresay you are anxious to return home.”

Did he imagine the regret in her voice? His gaze fell upon the silver wave glistening against the white of her shift, and his heart knew fresh hope. “Not so anxious as you might imagine,” he said. “Would that I could stay long enough to know that you are fully recovered.”

“You have done so much already. Without your and Knud’s arrival at the stables . . .” She paused, emotion choking her voice. “Will you tell me how you came to be there with the great hall’s door still locked?”

“We exited the window and climbed down the castle wall.”

She gasped. “But you could have fallen to your death!”

His eyes met hers, and as though drawn by an unseen cord, his feet moved toward her. Dropping to his knees beside the bed, he took her hand. “The chance of reaching you before Cadwgan fled the castle was worth the risk.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I . . . I prayed you would come.”

“That is likely why we descended the wall successfully.”

She dropped her gaze. “I shall miss you when you are gone.”

With his other hand, he reached out and gently ran his finger down her smooth cheek. “I am honor bound to return to Ireland so that my father and Cadwaladr may learn what happened at Dinefwr Castle, but I shall think of you every day.”

She turned her cheek so that it rested against his hand, and in that moment, Leif knew that leaving her would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

“I have spoken with Owain Gwynedd,” he said. “He is prepared to fulfill his brother’s pledge to provide my father with two thousand head of cattle upon Cadwaladr’s return to Gwynedd.” He managed a small smile. “I believe Cadwaladr will be accompanied by a great many Viking longships.”

“And will you be within one of them?”

Her eyes were filled with hope, and his heart lifted.

“Aye,” he said, pressing his lips to her hand before reluctantly releasing it and coming to his feet. “I shall be there, Rhiannon. I give you my word.”

Chapter 37

Six Weeks Later

Carried by the foaming edge of the wave, the glistening shell tumbled onto the sand at Rhiannon’s feet. She waited for the water to recede and then picked it up. Turning it in her hand, she examined the delicate cream-colored structure. How far had it traveled before reaching the shore at Aberffraw? As far as Ireland?

The sea breeze tugged at her hair and shawl, urging her up the beach. Walks along the water’s edge in the early hours of the morning had always been something she’d enjoyed. Now they were a treasured time of reflection and communion. Sometimes she thought on Leif and wondered where he was and what he was doing. Other times, she thought on God and on the miracle that had sent Leif to her rescue and Heledd to nurse over her until her wound had healed.

Owain Gwynedd had delayed his departure from Dinefwr Castle for ten days to ensure that Rhiannon was well enough to travel. At first, she had fretted that the king and his entire retinue were waiting upon her. But when Gwenllian visited Rhiannon in her chambers at the end of each day, she had shared tales of her outings with Cadell—rides into the forest, walks along the river, and visits to the market—and the warmth in Gwenllian’s eyes and voice had convinced Rhiannon that staying a little longer had not been without benefit for her cousin also.

The journey back to Ynys Môn had been long, and although Rhiannon’s strength was much improved, she had been grateful to drop into her bed at the llys at the end of it. She had been even more grateful to be beside the sea once more.

Some days, she dipped her fingers in the cold water, imagining the waves carrying her touch all the way to Leif. Occasionally, a seagull would fly overhead, its raucous cry as incomprehensible as the Norse tongue, and she would wonder what the bird would tell her if she could only understand.

Other times, the breeze would carry the lowing of cattle from the pastures beyond the trees that bordered the beach, and she would be reminded of the unprecedented gathering of livestock on the island. Drovers from Ceredigion and Dyffryn Clwyd had been bringing in cattle for almost a month. The fields were full.

Rhiannon reached the end of the bay and turned to watch the sun lighten the dusky sky. She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes on the distant horizon, wondering what was just beyond her view. And then she saw them. A row of faint dots lining the edge of the water. Her breath caught. Were they ships?

Holding perfectly still, she strained to make out more detail. The waves rushed in and out; the wind blew. Gradually, the dots grew larger until, at last, Rhiannon made out the square of a sail above the dark hull of the boat in the center of what was the largest gathering of seagoing vessels she’d ever seen. For one long heartbeat, her feet were affixed to the sand. Moments later, they had wings.

She raced across the beach, scrambling over the sand dunes that separated her from her horse. Gasping for breath, she tore at the reins she’d wrapped around a branch of a tree at the edge of the wooded area. Her mount snorted and pulled back on the straps.

“Quickly, Rascal,” she said, placing her foot in a stirrup and heaving herself into the saddle in one swift motion. “There is no time to lose.”

After waiting in the protection of the trees for the best part of an hour, Rascal responded to the touch of Rhiannon’s heels with the eagerness of a horse anxious for a long run. He thundered down the path that cut through the trees, emerging onto the track that ran alongside the pasture full of cattle and led directly to the llys. With her shawl flapping wildly below her shoulders, Rhiannon lowered herself in the saddle and urged Rascal on.

The guard at the gate saw her coming. Well used to her more sedate morning rides, he must have sensed that something was amiss, for he opened the gate without waiting for a shout. She clattered past him, into the courtyard.

Up ahead, the stable door opened, and one of the stableboys appeared, leading Hywel’s stallion by its straps. Surely if his horse had been readied, her cousin was close by. She reined her horse to a halt.