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murder investigation would
have had him in over his head and drowning.
    Gareth dismounted, looking every inch the
captain of the guard he was: tall and broad-shouldered with
close-cropped dark hair and intelligent blue eyes. He grasped the
much smaller Gwen by her upper arms and held her as he looked down
into her face. If they weren’t in the middle of a murder scene,
Rhun would have wagered his best horse that Gareth would have
wrapped his wife up in a hug and kissed her. They’d been married
for nearly three years, and a blind man could see how much they
loved each other.
    Rhun wanted that for himself. He hoped that
he might find it someday. Maybe even—he allowed himself a sliver of
hope and anticipation—with Angharad.

Chapter Four
    Gareth
     
    “W e have a murder,”
Gwen said.
    Gareth refrained from wondering aloud how it
was that Gwen had managed yet again to be on the scene of a murder
before he’d even learned there was a body. Then he looked around
the clearing, a feeling of unease rising in him that had nothing to
do with the murder. “My lord,” he said, turning to Rhun. “Where are
your guards?”
    “I dismissed them.”
    “My lord, how could you—”
    Rhun raised a hand. “I know, I know. I am a
prince of Gwynedd. But this isn’t Gwynedd—”
    “That’s right this isn’t Gwynedd!” Gareth
said, and then he swallowed, working hard to modulate his tone.
“It’s Ceredigion, with Normans and spies and common folk who
haven’t forgiven Cadwaladr for his misuse of them and your father
for putting him above them.”
    Rhun had the grace to look abashed. He
bobbed his head in a semblance of a bow, which was more than Gareth
deserved for chastising a prince—especially when that prince wasn’t
even his own master but his lord’s brother. “I stand corrected. And
before you ask, no—Hywel didn’t know that I rode out alone
today.”
    “Why did you?” Gareth said.
    Rhun pressed his lips together, such that
Gareth thought he wasn’t going to answer or had an answer that
Gareth wasn’t going to like. Maybe he’d been seeing a woman.
    At that thought, Gareth put up both hands
and took a step back. “Never mind, my lord. Your doings are not my
concern.”
    Rhun gave a short laugh and shook his head.
“I’m getting rusty, Gareth. That’s all.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    Prince Rhun’s eyes skated to Prior Rhys for
a heartbeat and then came back to Gareth. “In Gwynedd, of late the
people have been looking to me for leadership. Some have been
treating me like I’m already king. It isn’t—” the prince paused,
thinking, “—good for me.”
    Gareth took in a deep breath through his
nose and let it out, embarrassed at the way he’d dressed Rhun down,
even though he was right. He gave Rhun a bow. The prince usually
had more sense, but Gareth could understand how stifling it must be
to have guards accompany him everywhere he went, and how it might
not be good for him to be treated like a prince all the time, even
if he was one.
    “It won’t happen again,” Rhun said, “so you
don’t have to tell my brother.”
    “Yes, my lord,” Gareth said.
    “Have you spoken to my brother recently?”
Rhun said.
    “I was with him for much of the day, but he
sent me to the monastery saying he had some business at the
castle,” Gareth said. “His brow was furrowed as he left.”
    “He has many concerns, especially since our
father should have arrived already and isn’t here,” Prince Rhun
said. “I will find him after we’re done here and share the
load.”
    Hywel had acquired a great number of worries
since he’d taken over the rule of Ceredigion. Both Prince Rhun and
Gareth had spent much of the summer trying to lift some of those
burdens, the greatest of which, truth be told, was the festival and
of Hywel’s own making. Hywel had conceived the idea at the
beginning of the summer, and it had consumed him ever since. He
wanted it to be perfect; he wanted to impress his father; he