The intensity of his gaze made her drop her eyes. “I am tired,” she said abruptly, as she stood. “It has been a very long journey for me.”
His tone was full of indifference as he replied, “Find Dinaswyn, then. She will show you to your room.” He waved her away and turned slightly to stare at a bright patch of berries hanging from one of the trees.
She turned and left the grove. She did not look back. And so did not know that Gwydion turned back to look at her the moment she had turned away. He did not take his eyes from her until she was gone.
Part 3
The Search
On winter’s first day
The one who is loved shall die,
And tears will overwhelm
The lonely heart.
Taliesin
Fifth Master Bard
Circa 275
Chapter Sixteen
Caer Dathyl Kingdom of Gwynedd, Kymru Ysgawen Mis, 494
Suldydd, Cynyddu Wythnos—early afternoon
The silence spun out as Gwydion and Rhiannon sat across from each other in the study of the Dreamer’s Tower.
Gwydion was not at all surprised by the silence—he had expected it. After all, Rhiannon had lived in isolation with only her daughter for company for many years. She would not be adept at the art of conversation so soon after leaving her forest.
And he—well, he had not been one for conversation either these past years. Even as a child he had often kept his own counsel.
No, he was not at all surprised by the silence.
But he was surprised by how comfortable it was.
It seemed almost a companionable silence, one that was not filled with the anxiety to speak or the desire not to. And that made him very uncomfortable indeed.
The room was a cozy one, illuminated by the bright fire that blazed on the hearth and by numerous candles placed in golden, branched candleholders. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the walls, broken only by the door to his sleeping chamber and the door leading to the lower levels. This door was carved with four silvery disks to represent the four phases of the moon. The ceiling was hung with clusters of small, silvery globes modeled on the constellations that wheeled in the sky above Kymru.
In anticipation of their guests six wooden chairs were placed around a long, wooden table in the center of the room. For now, both he and Rhiannon sat in cushioned chairs before the fire.
Gwydion glanced at Rhiannon, knowing that she would not notice his stare, for she was Wind-Riding.
He took the opportunity to study her in a leisurely fashion, which he would not have done if she had been paying attention. His gaze lingered on her beautiful emerald eyes, her high cheekbones, her slim neck, her full breasts, and her slender waist. If she hadn’t been so patently dangerous he would have considered offering himself as a sexual partner. But she was dangerous. He knew it. He knew with every fiber of his being that to become involved with her would be like playing with fire. But fire was not to be toyed with. No, he would not toy with her, much as he might want to. And he did want to.
At last she stirred and her emerald eyes sharpened. Gwydion quickly looked away from her and into the fire.
“They are coming,” she said, and though there were no windows for Gwydion to check the truth of her statement, he did not need to. For she was right. They were here, at last.
THE DOOR OPENED slowly, and Dinaswyn stood framed by the doorway. “Your guests have arrived, Dreamer,” she said formally, then stepped aside to gesture them in.
The first one through the door was Achren, King Rhoram’s Captain. Her black hair was tightly braided to her scalp. Her black and green riding leathers were travel-stained. The badge of Prydyn, a black wolf on a field of green, glittered on her tunic. Her cloak was forest green wool. Her dark eyes were bright as she saw her old friend again. Rhiannon flew from her chair and embraced Achren.
“So,” Achren said with a grin, “we meet again.”
“So we do,” Rhiannon answered dryly with a glance at Gwydion, “at the will of the Dreamer.”
“Indeed,” Achren said. “And I must say,” she went on, turning to Gwydion, “this had better be good. I’ve been on the road for almost a month.”
“As have I,” Angharad said as she entered the room. Her tunic and trousers of white and sea green were dusty, but her green eyes were bright and alert. The badge of Ederynion, a white swan on a field of sea green, was sewn onto her tunic. Her molten red hair was bound in a braid that reached down to the small of her back, and her cloak was sea green. “And I agree with Achren,” she went on, “this had indeed better be good.”
“Rhiannon ur Hefeydd,” Gwydion said formally, “this is Angharad ur Ednyved, the Captain of Queen Olwen of Ederynion.”
Both Rhiannon and Angharad formally bowed to each other.