The Good Knight (A Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mystery)

back of her mind and refocused on her own predicament. For now, she needn’t concern herself about all those potential villains. She just needed to worry about the one who’d stolen her away.
    From the quality of the light leaking through the cracks around the shuttered window, the day had faded into late afternoon. She tried to marshal the requisite energy to open the window but just as she had convinced herself she could stand, footfalls outside her door stayed her. The bar came up and the door opened.
    “I know you’re awake.” It was Prince Cadwaladr, striding across the floor to the window and opening it for her.
    Gwen put a hand to her head, cursing herself for not controlling her temper better with him. But had Cadwaladr really killed the stable boy, attempted to poison Gareth, and stolen Anarawd’s body? She couldn’t see it. He’d have had to get his hands dirty himself and usually he ordered others to do his most unsavory tasks. How many men could he have who would murder a stable boy and a servant woman? How much money was one man’s soul worth and what would he take in trade?
    “You might as well sit up and pay attention.”
    Gwen did as he bid, blinking her eyes against the sudden light. The scent of the sea that she’d noticed earlier was stronger now on the breeze. She filed that away in the back of her mind for future thought. “Why am I here? Why have you taken me from Aber against my will?”
    “Against your will?” Cadwaladr swung around to look at her. “Why would you think that? No, my dear. I took you from Aber to keep you safe, since you were in great danger there.”
    “What are you talking about?” she said. “In danger from whom?”
    “From Gareth, of course,” Cadwaladr said. “Even in his cell, he could harm you as long as he has Hywel’s ear. That might not have been evident to your lover, but it was clear as day to me.”
    “To … my lover?”
    Cadwaladr made an impatient motion with his hand. “Men in love are blind. Naturally, Hywel wanted to keep you with him, but it wasn’t the wisest course. As his uncle, I had to take action when he would not.”
    Gwen gaped at Cadwaladr. Her throat closed on any comprehensible thing she could possibly put forth. Cadwaladr gazed at her with such condescension and certainty, any contradiction of his beliefs was impossible—and probably unwise. She looked away, her hand at her head. It ached and she didn’t know if it was from the poppy juice, or the surprise of hearing him get this so drastically wrong. But as it appeared to be the only reason she was alive, she didn’t dare deny it.
    “Since it was clear my nephew was incapable of seeing the truth, I acted. After my brother hangs the traitor, we will return.” Cadwaladr turned to look out the window. “We don’t have long to wait. Last I spoke to him, King Owain promised me Gareth’s death would occur at dawn tomorrow.”
    Gwen struggled to rise, the desire to throw herself at Cadwaladr and choke him so strong, she felt she’d actually have the courage to do it. Seeing her movement, Cadwaladr put out a hand. “Now, now. Easy. You shouldn’t move quickly in your condition.”
    Gwen subsided, settling for shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Truth be told, now that Cadwaladr had her here, Gwen had the feeling he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. He was very confident as he spoke to her, but he twitched more than usual and so far hadn’t looked her in the eye even once. “Where are we?”
    Cadwaladr tsked under his breath—exactly like her father often did—and returned to the doorway. “I’ll send food and water.” He closed the door behind him.
    Gwen rested her head against the wall of her prison, pulled a thin blanket over her legs, and closed her eyes. She’d obviously slept the day away. She opened her eyes again and looked towards the open window. Pushing through her exhaustion, Gwen rose to her feet, stumbling almost as if she’d been on a boat instead of lying on a pallet on dry land. Her hands clutched the window ledge.
    The sea! Cadwaladr had been playing games with her not to give her the name of the castle. He must have known that one look out the window would tell her. She’d been here before. Another glance around the room with clearer eyes told her she’d even been in this room before. Owain Gwynedd had only two seaside castles within a day’s range of Aber that Cadwaladr might think to use: Criccieth, south of Caernarfon, and