David was nowhere to be seen when she slipped out of the tailor’s shop. She ducked around to the alley and made her way to the edge of town where the wainwright crafted his wheels.

Iolo had said that the messenger stayed in a storage shack behind the works. She picked her way across a ground littered with bits of wood, and scratched at the wide, crude door of a structure that looked like a little stable.

She heard movement, and sensed someone peering at her through the door’s cracks. Since most of her father’s men had never met her, she shoved up her sleeve and held her arm high, so that the armlet and its engraved dragon would be visible.

The door opened, but no one stood there. She stepped into a darkened space. Wheels of various sizes lined its two sides, but the center remained clear. Ahead of her she saw another large door. Wagons and carts could be pulled in, fitted with their wheel, and then rolled out the other end.

“Nesta verch Llygad?” The deep, quiet voice was to her left. She pivoted to see a tall man standing against the wall, as if he had positioned himself to fight several swords.

“You took your time getting here, my lady.”

“I am being watched. If not for word of the raids, I might not have been able to come at all. You should have trusted Iolo to bring me a message. We both risk too much with this meeting.”

“This is not for the farmer’s ears, or anyone’s but yours. It is about your sister.”

“She is ill? Injured?”

“Nay.”

“Oh, Jesus, do not tell me she is d—”

“The bard did not bring her to us. They sent a message from the coast. He has family in Eire, and we think they went there.”

Good for you, Genith. The thought jumped into her head along with a flood of relief. An image of Genith, smiling and happy, secure in Dylan’s embrace as they faced a distant shore, flashed through her, lifting her heart and making her smile.

The joyful reaction disappeared in a blink, however, as the full implications of Genith’s rash act crowded it out.

“This could unravel everything,” she muttered.

“Now you see why I could not speak of it to Iolo, and why I had to come myself with this news.”

He stepped closer, and the light from the entrance made his height and features clearer. Nesta suddenly realized who was with her, and just how big this risk had been.

“You are Carwyn Hir, aren’t you.”

He was not powerfully built, but his height held a lanky, wiry strength. The bones of his face gave him an attractive, if craggy, appearance. Intelligent blue eyes sparkled with amusement at her surprise, and the mouth above his dark beard smiled.