Burgundy. Basel. They would not even share an island. No more could he imagine, when he looked at the eastern hills, that she was just beyond them. He fought down a sudden anger at her, the bitterness he carried every day in a secret corner of his heart, because she had not come with him. She should be here. She would never be here, because she rejected what little he could give her.

Never will she truly need you, Philip Walch had taught him about fierce and beautiful creatures. She will stay with you so long as it suits her, but she will never be tame.

He knew he must try to stop wanting her. He must. Even if he could do the impossible – find a way to give her more, or bring himself to abandon his people – it was too late. The knowledge sat like a heavy stone in his breast, a lifeless weight that threatened to suffocate him. She did not want him now. Her face when he left her was all he saw when he closed his eyes.

He was just another lord, like all the others who had used her.

“I would like to drink until I am blind with it,” he announced.

“A fine idea,” agreed Will. He drank down what was in his cup and reached for the bottle to pour more. “By God, I would like that too, after that journey. I hope you like your wife better than I do, or you will spend all your days blind drunk.”

“Another fine idea,” Gryff said, and held out his cup to be filled again.

Will stayed less than a week, which was long enough to help negotiate a date for Gryff to be wed and to issue a warning about Rhodri.

“There has been no word of him. He is not in Rome and I would wager my own inheritance he does not journey there.” Will looked around the crowded hall suspiciously, as though Rhodri might appear from the shadows. “You are certain sure these men can be trusted?”

Gryff shrugged. “I know they have no love for Rhodri. They have given proof enough, and I may put my faith in that.”

Rhodri had left the king’s court the same afternoon that Gryff had arrived. He had gone immediately to Aderinyth, hoping to claim it as his own with the support of the people – but he had found a cold welcome. For years, the story of how he had tried to kill Gryff had been sung by the bards, who painted him as the villain he was. The people of Aderinyth would not tolerate him, and he had barely escaped with his life.

Will loved that story, and asked Rhys to set it to verse and sing it every night of his visit.