“What do you think of Aster?” Rhyddid asked as he double checked his saddle. 

Dew waited by Koli, the stablehands having already gotten her steed ready. She would be lifted into her seat by Rhyddid. 

“What do you mean?”

“For breeding. Do you think he would be a fine match?” He stepped back from Aster and turned to wait for her response. 

Dew thought for a moment, eyes trailing over the massive glanus. A mount for a warrior. She could see the soft glow of yellow dance up strong, long legs and stop at thick shoulders and hips. His muscles rippled under a sleek coat of dark hair as he shifted his weight. She could only see black, but up close, a hint of purple could be found. 

“Strong for a warrior,” Dew complimented. “A pretty coat. Pleasurable to the eyes. Patient. Well-mannered. I have not seen him disobey when the hands groom or feed him.” 

“I raised him.” Rhyddid patted Aster’s neck. “When I took the throne, I sorted through all the foals in the stables and picked him.”

“You’ve done very well.”

“Thank you,” Rhyddid left Aster to help Dew onto her saddle. “Would you find apropos to mate Aster and Koli?”

Dew chewed on the thought as they left the stables. 

“I think many would expect it,” she said slowly.

“But?” He prompted.

“I think Aster would be better matched with a mare that is… better esteemed.” Dew rode beside Rhyddid with her head high. Unlike her first ride, she felt more comfortable balanced on Koli’s back and assured her steed would not spook so easily to buck her off. 

“You do not find Koli esteemed?” He scowled at her. 

Dew bit back a curse. She tried hard not to offend him as she expected he chose her glanus. Koli was a perfect mare, with most of her manners intact. 

“She is a wonderful mare,” she assured him. “It’s just… she’s only entered her prime recently. She does have good prospects, I think.” 

“Koli is a confident glanus and friendly,” Rhyddid frowned. “Are you unhappy with her?” 

Rhyddid gently slowed Aster to stop and Dew followed his lead. 

“No! I adore Koli, really!” She twisted in her saddle to look him in the eye. “I don’t want to breed her just because she’s my glanus. I want to make sure I am instigating good matches and producing well-bred foals for your stables.” 

Rhyddid reached out and Dew flinched at the movement. She tried to recover herself, but he caught it and his hand froze mid-air. Slowly, his fingers bridged the rest of the gap and touched her cheek. Her breath stuttered at the contact. 

Dew’s mouth began to move without her say. Panic filled her lungs as she tried to explain herself.

“I am not a breeder in any sense of the word. I would listen in to others’ conversations about the horses and try to observe. I never did this at home but Pawl has been very helpful and I try to offer the best insight I can and-”

“Blodeuwedd,” Rhyddid stopped her rant short. He smiled at her. A small thing with a slight turn of the lips. 

“I’m sorry.” Dew cast her eyes to the ground, her head buzzing in embarrassment. 

“Pawl is pleased by your interest. Many did not expect you to take an interest in the glanus. Other ladies of court find it… appalling.” Rhyddid pulled his hand away after a moment. He replaced it with a tender kiss. 

Her cheek burned where his lips pressed. Thankfully, he pulled away before it became overbearing. 

“It does smell,” Dew admitted. 

“Does Efa complain about it?” Rhyddid eased them back into a trot.

“No, she enjoys being outside the most.” Dew tried to breathe as subtly as possible, head still swimming. 

“I saw her with Cothi on the other side of the enclosure.” Rhyddid paused when first mounting as he caught the two ladies sitting by the fence and sketching the glani playing. 

“She enjoys sketching,” the safer topic eased a lot of her anxiety. “Your glani are good models.” 

Rhyddid chuckled at the thought since most glani were attention-seeking and preferred rough play. 

“I hope my gift this morning was not ill-fitting…” 

Rhyddid brought an array of painting tools and an easel to Efa’s room. He also brought two canvases for her to start with. Efa thanked him with a low curtsey, nervousness stuttering her breath. 

“She loved it, I swear.” Dew’s anxiety returned full force as she confessed, “Efa is very timid and-”

“You do not need to explain,” Rhyddid stopped her short again. 

“I do not want you to think poorly of her or her manners. She is well-taught.”

“I have not once questioned your sister’s integrity or manners.”

“You did ask if we entertained the knight,” Dew retorted without thought.

As soon as the words left her mouth, horror washed over her. She locked her jaw, nearly biting her tongue, and stared straight down the path. She could see where the lamps would end and the meadow from before began.

“Yes…” If he felt guilty about that, he did not apologize.

They rode in silence through the meadow. Once it disappeared behind them, Rhyddid slowed Aster to a stop and dismounted. He tied his glanus to a low branch and returned to help Dew. He did not explain anything as he grabbed her hand and lead her off the trail and into the dark woods. 

Dew refrained from asking if she offended him with her earlier retort. 

“Rhyddid?” Dew finally gathered her courage to ask as she stumbled to a halt beside him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Away from eavesdroppers,” Rhyddid whispered in the dark. “We should be far enough now.” 

Hear in her throat, she wheezed at the thought of others lurking about. 

“I can’t see,” she reminded him.

She could feel his gloved hand wrapped around her in a firm grip. It didn’t hurt but she knew she couldn’t break from him. 

Rhyddid tugged her roughly forward. She felt his armor press against her. The smooth armor felt cool against her cheek but uncomfortably hard. His arm wrapped around her protectively and she had no choice but to wrap an arm around his waist to keep some semblance of support. 

“I have you,” the words blew across the crown of her head. 

Dew suspected he watched her curled up in his hold, but she couldn’t be sure. Her skin crawled and she felt like eyes watched her from every direction. 

Rhyddid guided her through the dark, his hold keeping her from tripping on the overgrown roots. He stopped after a while and left her to rustle around. 

Dew held herself close and listened to him do something. Then, she felt his arms surround her again. 

“Sit here,” Rhyddid quietly commanded. 

Dew expected roots and twigs to dig into her, but she felt the hardness of the ground and a smooth material. A cloak, perhaps. 

“If I create light, they might find us,” he knelt beside her. “Here.” Rhyddid offered his hand for her to hold. 

“Thank you.” Dew held onto him with a light grasp. She doubted even if she put all her effort to hold him she actually could. 

“I was not insinuating anything about you or your sister,” Rhyddid said suddenly. “I would not have been angry at you if you said yes.”

“About entertaining the knight?” Dew’s brows furrowed at the thought. 

“Yes.” He shifted beside her, his thigh pressing against hers. 

“You really would not have been angry? You would have kept Efa and me in your court?” She couldn’t fathom the thought. He’d been so stern and angry that day. 

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I watched and waited. I listened. I know your father was asking for Fae heads for rewards but never could understand why.”

Neither could Dew for the life of her. Or why he’d offer a price he could not give. 

“Then you knew he was going to give one of us to the knight.”

“Yes. I believe they settled on Efa.” 

Tears choked Dew at the thought of her sweet and timid sister under the hands of a man that sought only gold and glory. He laughed with her father at the beheaded Fae. He told stories and jokes and ate with animalistic vigor at supper. She was sure several of the maids that entered his room left with a bit of a limp and tumbled hair. 

“I do not mean to upset you by telling you this,” Rhyddid wrapped an arm around her and tugged her into his side. “I am saying, I understand if you had to. I do not hold the knight or your father in high esteem.”

“Why did you let him live then?” Dew wiped at her dry cheeks and settled firmly in his grasp. 

“Your sister, the one I called a wrench-”

“Maeyrn.” She thought to scold him about the insult but refrained. 

“Maeryn said something about the other one being engaged. To spare her for the engagement.” 

Dew hadn’t heard that during the chaos. 

“It is ill-luck to kill the father of a bride,” he finished.

“Nasty luck to kill the father of two brides then,” Dew concluded. 

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I suppose so.” 

Silence settled over them then and Dew found it strangely peaceful. Sitting in the dark with her betrothed pressed against her like this. She knew he could see and felt safe in that knowledge.