A rabbit, gray-furred and bright-eyed, hops slowly into the glade. He is intent on his feasting, and has not noticed me. And if he did, he would not fear me. He would recognize a fellow forager, recognize a kindred spirit. He has not the strength and speed of his sister hare, and there is something in his vulnerability that causes me to be uneasy, yet I have an affection for his kind. How could I not? Of a sudden, he tenses, raising his head and ceasing his nibbling in one sharp movement. For a second more he is as still as the dead bough behind him, then his ears twitch once and, in half a heartbeat, he is gone, bounding away through the foliage, a gray blur. Here, then gone. Visible, then vanished. I hear it, too, the approaching horse. Its hooves thud into the ground slowly but heavily. It carries a rider. I straighten up but do not turn. Soon I can hear the clinking of the iron bit the horse works in its mouth, and the creaking of the fine leather of the saddle. The crows flap away from their perch. The robin falls silent. The horse stops. Its rider dismounts.

Without turning, I offer my greeting. ‘Your horse is moving too slowly, my Prince, you will never catch anything.’

I can hear the smile in his voice. ‘Ah, I am not engaged in hunting this day, my Prophet.’ He treads through the undergrowth and comes to stand beside me.

Only now do I face him. He is dressed casually, his hair hanging forward to partly cover his dark eyes. He wears no mail and carries no shield, but bears his sword on his hip. His smile broadens.

‘Have you come, then, to check for invading armies?’ I ask. ‘If so I fear you will be disappointed, for I have not seen a single Viking all morning,’ I tell him.

‘What Viking would dare confront Seren Arianaidd, even with an army?’

I glance in the direction he has come from, but cannot see any more riders.

‘You appear to have lost your own men,’ I point out. ‘Some might consider that a careless action for a prince.’

‘I rode alone.’

I do not ask why. I can see he is hoping I will do so, but I will not play his game. I busy myself with picking more plants, as if his business is of no concern to me. In truth I know he has sought me out. In my chest, my heart gallops, threatening to betray my feelings. Does he truly know me? Can he see the longing inside me? If so, why does he torment me, for we both know we can never be more than we are to each other.

He follows me. ‘Are you not curious?’ he asks. ‘Have you no interest in your prince’s reasons for being alone in the woods? I would know what brings you here.’