He had not touched her. She was too quick, and had leapt away before his fist could land. Now she stood over him, a lamp in her hand, her startling blue eyes locked on his until his breathing began to calm. Then she blinked and gave a small, apologetic nod of her head before looking down at his pallet, just a few inches from his head. He followed her eyes to the spot and found a strip of dried meat there, and a bit of bread.

It took a moment for him to realize that she had put it there – that she, and not the monks, had left all the other little gifts of food. It took longer for him to realize that she had already slipped away before he could find words to thank her.

1280

Before Rhodri tried to kill him, Gryff had thought they would be great friends.

“A bastard brother is still a brother,” Gryff had said to him, and to his own surprise he truly meant it. There was some Welsh still left in him, he supposed.

He had only faint memories of his half-brother, who was six years older and had been sent to foster so long ago, but they were mostly fond memories. Then Rhodri came to Lancaster’s court to celebrate Michaelmas and immediately sought out Gryff. They found they had a mutual admiration for many Norman ways, and a shared resentment of their father.

“Owain and Aiden still think him perfect,” Rhodri reported of their other brothers. “They do not care that he has sent us away. Two brothers instead of four – that’s half the trouble for father. And for Aiden, less than half.”

Inheritance. It all came down to that, for Rhodri. Perhaps it was the same with his other brothers, but Gryff had never felt it so strongly from them. It hurt to hear that they did not miss him. It hurt even more to know that Rhodri was allowed to visit family. Even if Gryff wanted to, he could not. His fourteenth birthday had passed last year without fanfare, making him a man in the eyes of the Welsh, but he could not go anywhere without royal permission.

Still, it had been nice to have Rhodri there. He never spoke a word of Welsh, and he too thought Wales was a wretched country. They were in agreement on the superiority of Norman laws and English ale, and they did not even argue over which of the serving girls in Lancaster’s hall each would flirt with.

It was only when he showed the white gyrfalcon to Rhodri that there was some little unease between them. There was anger behind the admiration in his half-brother’s eye as he said that unlike Gryff, he had never been allowed the year of falconry study that their father gave to his legitimate sons.