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Rhiann
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JUST AS WHEN SHE’D arrived at Aberffraw as a king’s friend, Rhiann was somewhat discomfited by her reception at Caer Dathyl. True, she was the only woman among the companions and was dressed in boys’ clothes, but the subservience of the occupants of the fort set her teeth on edge.
“It wasn’t very long ago that I was one of them,” she said to Cade that evening at dinner after yet another servant had bowed deeply as he poured her mead. And then some for Cade, who so far had consumed four entire trenchers of food and a gallon of drink. Rhiann had looked closely in his eyes several times. He was neither sated nor—more importantly—drunk.
“It isn’t just that you are my betrothed, cariad,” Cade said, taking another sip from his cup. “I believe Siawn has been talking.”
“About me?” Rhiann said. “What could he have said about me?”
“That you are a true heroine,” Cade said.
“Cade—”
“Eighteen hours ago, this hall was full of men who’d drunk from Mabon’s barrels and slept the night away. They’d lived among demons for heaven knows how long. This morning, they awoke to find Mabon gone and their fort back to the way it was a month ago. It was as if they’d gone on a drunken binge with only vague memories of their lives, even if the men we spoke to were coherent at the time.”
“I guess I can see that,” she said. “But I did no more than any of you.”
Cade canted his head at her and smiled, not responding to her assertion. Instead, he said, “That dress becomes you, by the way.”
Rhiann blushed, but then recovered to glare at Cade. “I’m not giving up my other clothes just because I’ll be the Queen of Gwynedd.”
“I haven’t asked you to, have I?”
“But you’ve thought it. I can see it in your eyes. Marriage isn’t going to give you an excuse to leave me behind at home, minding—” Rhiann caught herself before she let the children escape her lips. “—the fort,” she finished lamely.
She hoped Cade didn’t realize what she might have said.
Cade actually had the nerve to look sheepish. “Of course not.”
Rhiann poked his arm with one finger. “After all we’ve been through, you think you could get away with that?”
“The people will expect—”
“The people!” And then Rhiann couldn’t keep back her thoughts, much as she didn’t want to burden Cade with them. She leaned in until their foreheads were almost touching and lowered her voice. “They’ll expect a son within a year too, and that isn’t going to happen either.”
Cade licked his lips. “I know, Rhiann. I’m sorry. If I could be other than I am—”
Rhiann put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say any more. I couldn’t stop myself from speaking of it, but I won’t dwell on it, I promise. I love you—”
Rhiann didn’t get any more words out because Cade had clasped her hand in his, leaned in, and stopped her mouth with a kiss, to general applause from tables, high and low alike. He released her and she sat back, breathless as usual.
Cade brushed the back of her hand with his lips. “I don’t want to risk you ever again. I can’t promise that you will come with me to every battle or even the threat of one. But I will not banish you to the solar either. How about we take it one day at a time?”
Rhiann allowed him to study her and met his eyes once again. They were as clear and intent as always, blue and bottomless. “All right. One day at a time. Now...” She rubbed her hands together. “I have some questions for you.”
The blue eyes brightened. “Do you?”
“We’re engaged, soon to be married, and you owe me some answers.”
Cade rested his elbows on the table, obviously amused. “Anything, cariad.”
“First,” Rhiann said, “do you ever get tired?”
Cade blinked and then his mouth twitched as if he was about to laugh. He opened it to say something and then closed it again.
“What’s wrong?” Rhiann said. “I’m serious.”
“I know you’re serious,” Cade said. “I just don’t know how to answer. Do I get tired ... of what?”
“I mean your body—does it ever get tired? You slept in the clearing. Was that because you were sleepy tired, emotionally tired, physically tired, or none of the above.”
Cade barked a laugh. “Of all the things you could have asked me ...” He sat back in his chair, still laughing until Rhiann wasn’t sure he was actually going to give her an answer. Finally, he wiped at the corners of his eyes with the tips of his fingers and collected himself. “The short answer is, No, I don’t get tired. The longer answer is that when I slept, back there in the clearing, my mind truly rested for the first time in over two years. So, then yes, emotionally tired is the only tired I get. Anything else?”
“That first day at Aberffraw when we met, why didn’t you escape earlier? You could have killed everyone in the fort, particularly those two guards who brought you in. You didn’t need me at all.”
“Ah. In that you are potentially correct. I could have. But swords do hurt me and can kill me if a blade separates my head from my shoulders. So even if I’d killed the initial two guards, another—or seven—would have run me through before I’d taken two steps. At the time, I thought it better to wait. I intended to jump from my window. I would have if you hadn’t appeared.”
“You left it a bit late,” Rhiann said. “It would have been dawn soon.”
“In truth, I was lost in my thoughts. My mistake. In my defense, however, I was thinking of you.”
Rhiann ducked her head, foolishly pleased to have him say that. “So you did need me.”
“That’s what this is about? Whether or not I need you?” He leaned in and put a finger to Rhiann’s lips before she could reply. “Don’t answer that. Did I need you to help me escape? I might have managed it on my own without you, but it was far better and more easily accomplished with you. Do I need you in my life? Now, that is a different story. I admit that I could live as I have lived without you. But was that really living? And do I want to return to that kind of life? No.”
“Cade—”
“You are far more independent and resilient than I am,” Cade said. “You could live without me far more easily than I could live without you.”
“That’s not true—”
“Ah—” He hushed her. “Don’t deny it. You honor me with the knowledge that you don’t want to.”
“I love you,” Rhiann said.
“I know that too.”
* * * * *
THE FORT OF DEGANWY sat on and between two hills overlooking the eastern bank of the Conwy River. The great Maelgwyn Gwynedd made it his seat first, and the Kings of Gwynedd had maintained it ever since. Rhiann was glad that she and Cade would marry here instead of at Aberffraw. While Aberffraw was an ancient fort, built over the top of even older ruins, memories of her life there haunted her.
She and Cade had traveled to Aberffraw before, when Cade assumed the throne. They’d found the hall much improved from when her father had ruled it—but in her mind it would always be Cadfael’s, not Cade’s, and her childhood had not been a happy one. Perhaps Taliesin had understood that, although knowing him, he could have chosen Deganwy for their wedding for reasons that had nothing to do with her.
Rhiann had spent the day in a most unusual manner for her: with other women fussing over the fit of her wedding dress. Even she had to admit that it was beautiful: a dark green with white at the wrists and neck—and that she might look beautiful in it. Their wedding, however, would otherwise be unlike any she’d ever attended, and not just because the groom was the King of Gwynedd and a sidhe.
Usually weddings involved fathers and signed contracts, distribution of property and the arrangement of dowry. Rhiann came to Cade with nothing but her bow and the quiver on her back. His mother, Alcfrith, was the only mother she’d ever known, and she hadn’t been much of one at that. Usually, too, the guests invited to the wedding wanted to be there.
In this case, Cade was using their wedding as an opportunity to gather the Kings of Gwynedd and Powys to him, those that would come. Some hadn’t attended the ceremony at Aberffraw and would need to pay homage to him or risk his wrath. He was their liege lord, after all, even if the gods had touched him. Over the last three days, more than one lord’s eyes had shown trepidation as he entered the great hall and greeted his new king.
From the heights above the river and the Irish sea, which lay just to the north of the spit of land on which Deganwy Castle was built, Rhiann and Hywel watched another group of travelers peer up at the fort. The sun shone into Rhiann’s face, and she shielded her eyes against it. Then she smiled, recognizing the man at the head of the company. This time, as he’d promised, Tudur had brought his brother-in-law.
Rhiann waved down to him before checking Hywel’s profile beside her. “Have you spoken to Dafydd?”
Hywel glanced at her but otherwise continued to gaze studiously at the river below them and the men crossing it. “You should talk to him yourself.”
“I can’t,” she said. “We’ve been such good friends and I trust him completely, but—”
“It isn’t as if your wedding to King Cadwaladr is a surprise to him,” Hywel said.
“Her wedding is a surprise to someone?” Dafydd had mounted the stairs to the battlements without them noticing and now came to stand on the other side of Hywel. His words had been for Hywel and, although an outsider might note that they stood in close proximity, Dafydd hadn’t looked at Rhiann.
Well, this is awkward. In the long pause that followed, all three gazed over the ramparts at the influx of new guests. Finally, Hywel took a step back. “King Cadwaladr asked me to ... check on our supply of arrows. I’d best be off.” He turned on his heel and trotted down the stairs to the courtyard.
Rhiann watched him go, not knowing if she had the fortitude for this. She took in a breath and turned to Dafydd. “Can you forgive me?”
“You’ve done nothing that needs forgiveness, Rhiann,” Dafydd said, not pretending to misunderstand. “You loved the king long before you were my friend. I’ve cherished that friendship, but today is the last day I will call you by your given name.”
“Dafydd—” Rhiann touched his arm and then drew her hand back. From his expression, her sympathy would only make this worse.
“I’ve asked the king for an assignment away from here.” Dafydd gestured with one hand, indicating the castle, her, Gwynedd—maybe all of it. “He says that after the wedding, he will send me south, if I wish it. I will be his emissary to the rulers of Ceredigion.”
“Cade told me that he’d been thinking about what needs doing,” Rhiann said. “It’s a long way to travel, and maybe dangerous.”
“I need to go,” Dafydd said. “And the King needs allies. Despite what happened at Caer Dathyl, he isn’t as immediately concerned about Mabon and his plans as he is about the Saxons and theirs.”
“He can’t predict what Mabon will do,” Rhiann said. “He knows the Saxons are not our friends and never will be, even if they allied with his birth father and Cadfael after him.”
“The lords of Ceredigion have always focused their trade and ties in the direction of the western sea, towards our cousins in Ireland. They don’t fear the Saxons yet. The mountains protect them. But if we fall, or Powys falls, Ceredigion will be as exposed as we are now.”
“It is your task to explain that to them?”
Dafydd glanced at Rhiann. “You doubt that I can?”
“Of course not, Dafydd.” Rhiann had hurt him, and now he saw criticism in the most innocuous of comments. That hurt her, but his was a pain that wasn’t going to heal in a day, not even with the help of Caledfwlch—or especially not with the help of Caledfwlch. “You’re the son of a king. You lived for a year in the kitchens of Caer Dathyl to see what kind of man you were. You’ve held Dyrnwyn and lived. I was merely clarifying so I could fully understand.”
Some of the tension in Dafydd’s shoulders eased. “I have your blessing, then?”
“You are my friend, Dafydd, my staunch companion and a hero in your own right. I look forward to shooting with you again.”
“I wish you the best, Queen Rhiannon.” Dafydd bowed and left her.
As she watched him go, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Marrying Cade was what she wanted—what she needed—but she hadn’t wanted to hurt Dafydd along the way. She replayed something Alcfrith had said to her when she arrived, the joy shining through her but coming out as sorrow as well. You’ve taken the reins of your life in both hands and held on. No matter what happens, don’t let go.
Dafydd, too, had left his home and followed his own path. She had faith he’d make his way through this trial too.
