Page 5 of Cadell the Dragon

Look all you want, boy, but that woman needs a real man. I’ll be the one getting her in the end, he seemed to say.

Yes. He probably would. How could anyone even begin to compete against him?

Three days later, as he and his newfound brother lay on their pallet in the small room they shared, Siaspar asked, his voice cautious in the darkness. “Do you want to talk about⁠—”

“No.” Cadell did not want to talk about his inappropriate, doomed feelings for a woman who was out of his reach for a myriad of reasons. “There is no point. It’s nothing. It will pass.”

Even as the words left his lips, he knew they were an outrageous lie. He might come to accept that he had lost Johanna to another man but he would never forget the first woman who had stirred his interest. And that was not nothing, it was everything.

By the time Rhun left, a few days later, it was obvious to everyone that the lady would not leave with the English retinue when they carried on with their journey, but instead remain at Castell y Ddraig to wait for her Welsh suitor to come back and complete his wooing. Apparently, she was only traveling with them because her brother had asked her to deliver a message to his friend, and she had decided that one of the men could perform the task in her stead.

Cadell, never a devious man, found himself wondering if he could not, in the mighty warrior’s absence, make her see that other men were worth considering. Because, damnation, though it was woefully underhanded on his part, young as he was, he was man enough to know that he would always regret it if he didn’t at least try something.

Could he make her change her mind? If he brought her some of the sweet treats she so desired, perhaps she would come to see him more favorably? It was worth a try. In any case, it was the only idea he had.

He looked at the spiced almonds he had procured for her the previous day.

During one of their rare days off duty, Siaspar had taken him to Castell Esgyrn, where his sister Bethan was living. She had been inseparable from Lord Sheridan’s daughter Gwenllian from a young age and the Englishman and his wife treated her like a fifth daughter. As they were about to depart, Cadell had found the courage to ask Lady Sheridan where he could find some of the almonds they had been served as refreshments that afternoon. With a smile, as if she’d guessed why he wanted the sweets, she had given him all the ones left on the table.

Would he dare to give them to Johanna in person?

He did not.

Cursing himself for a coward but still wanting her to enjoy the almonds, even if it brought him no advantage, Cadell left them in the room she’d been allocated. With luck she would remember their conversation in the storeroom, when she had admitted to craving this sort of sweet treats and guess who had found them for her. Then she would come to speak to him and, while she thanked him for the attention, he might find the courage to tell her what he felt.

In the end, he never had the chance to talk to her.

At dawn the following day, he was asked to ride to the old lord’s cousin, all the way to the border with England, to enquire about his health. Disappointment heavy in his chest, Cadell vaulted onto his horse. The trip would keep him away from Castell y Draig—and the lady inside it—for at least two days, most probably three.

Because he found the cousin unwell, as was feared, and he had to wait until they were assured that a recovery was possible, it was a full week before Cadell could set off for home. But when he came back at last, riding so hard he feared his horse would collapse under him, it was already too late.

Rhun had returned and claimed his bride.

Cadell had no choice but to watch as the retinue, with the dark-haired beauty and the powerful knight at its head, disappeared into the forest. There had been no goodbye, no last conversation, no confession of love.

Nothing.

He remained immobile a long time, staring at the trees, feeling his life start to ebb away.

2

Castell y Draig. Dragon’s Castle.

Another place she had thought never to see again. But this one, unlike Bryn Glas, looked as if it had prospered in the last decade.

Johanna dismounted in the bailey. The same bailey where ten years ago, Rhun had asked for her hand in marriage, straight after having jumped down from his horse. She had accepted, thinking that with a man like him by her side, who had kept his promise and come back to her without any guarantee his offer would be accepted, she would never be ignored or want for anything. What she had not realized at the time was that, while Rhun was happy to share his worldly possessions with her, he didn’t consider his time, or even his life, his own. He loved her, in a way, but his life was dedicated to what he called “the Welsh Cause.”

She might not have minded had she felt that he, too, resented the time spent away from her. But it had not taken her long to see that she would never be able to compete with what was his life’s goal. He had made an effort at the start of their marriage but had not found the will to do more.

Being his wife had been a lonely existence, the very one she had hoped to avoid by leaving a home in which she had never been considered as important. As the only daughter, and the youngest in the family, she had not mattered enough to garner much attention. By the time she was born, the succession had been well assured. No one had needed or wanted her. In that brief week at Castell y Ddraig, Rhun had made her feel seen, and wanted, for the first time in her life. Such attention had been thrilling, but still plagued by doubt, she had not been able to believe in his assurance that he would come back to ask for her hand. When he had actually come back, she had been so relieved that she had unable to refuse the first man who thought her worth an effort. Alas, once they were wed, things had changed.

Well, whatever her life as Rhun’s wife had been, it was over now.

Deciding not to dwell on such sad thoughts, Johanna handed the reins of her horse to the groom waiting for her. A moment later, she was met by none other than the master of the place, Siaspar ap Morgan.

The last time she had seen him, he had been a youth of fifteen summers and slightly ungainly. There was nothing awkward about him now, he was a man in his prime, strong and confident.

She had heard a few years after her wedding how the nineteen-year-old foster boy had been handed Castell y Ddraig when the old lord had died without children. It had been an impressive step up for a man of such humble origins. But apparently, he had been born for the task, for the castle was one of the best-kept she had ever seen.