Free The Fallen Princess by Sarah Woodbury Page A

the past, necessarily, and
certainly Gwen cared little about what people thought, but the
worst thing would be to do something strenuous and damage the baby.
She would never forgive herself if she miscarried the child.
    The frustrating confinement of Gwen’s
pregnancy would be easier to accept if Mari was pregnant. Although
Mari had never been as adventurous as Gwen herself, they’d kept
each other company during the long summer without their men. Gareth
had journeyed with Hywel to Ceredigion in the south, and from the
little Gareth said, Gwen knew that Hywel was consumed with
solidifying his hold on his lands in the wake of Cadwaladr’s
treachery last summer. He and Gareth had fought more than one
battle already in pursuit of that goal, and she was terribly afraid
that they would be fighting many more.
    Because the Norman influence was greater in
the south, most of the pressure on Hywel’s rule came from them, not
Cadell, the King of Deheubarth. Hywel’s forces had raided the
Norman castle of Aberteifi (which the Normans called Cardigan) and
come away victorious, having burned the castle to the ground. The
repercussions of that raid were still to be felt, which was why
Hywel (and Gareth) would be staying in Gwynedd for only a few
months before heading south again after the Christmas feast. Gwen
already felt the pang of longing at the thought of Gareth leaving
again. They hadn’t had enough time together. They never had enough
time together.
    And if he left, Gareth wouldn’t be with her
when their baby was born. She had already been on her knees praying
for inclement weather that would prevent Hywel from leaving Aber
and for the baby to come early.
    Gwen stopped in the corridor with one hand
on the wall and the other on her belly, feeling the baby shift
under her hand. Gwen could hear the hubbub in the great hall and
needed to compose herself before joining it. Too many times since
Gwen had discovered her pregnancy, she’d found the fear of the
future engulfing her. She feared dying in childbirth. She feared
Gareth’s death in battle. As always, she told herself to put aside
her fear, because it would prevent her from living in whatever time
she had left. That, however, was easier said than done.
    The great hall remained nearly as full as it
had been earlier that morning. Gwen didn’t see Mari at the high
table and stopped, unsure where she should look for her friend.
Mari hadn’t been sleeping in the room adjacent to Hywel’s office
either. Then Gwen felt a hand on her arm.
    “Lady Gwen?” It was Mari’s maid, Hafwen.
“Princess Mari asked me to tell you that she has gone to lie down
in the manor house. She requests that you attend to her later but
that she needs to sleep now.”
    Gwen nodded. With the enormous crowd of
people coming into Aber, Mari and Hywel had already been planning
to move from where they normally slept in the room adjacent to
Hywel’s office to the manor house where they would be sharing a
room with Gareth and Gwen. An entire family of King Owain’s
relations who lived near Dolbadarn would be occupying Hywel’s usual
chambers.
    Stymied for the moment, Gwen hovered on the
edges of the crowded room. King Owain was holding court on the dais
for all the well-wishers who’d come for a feast but found
themselves attending a funeral instead. He hadn’t summoned her to
him as he’d said he would, but they’d both been so busy, he hadn’t
had the chance. Gwen spared a thought for Tegwen’s body, lying now
in the barracks, and decided she’d better stay in the hall rather
than hide away there examining what was left of the princess. The
conversation among the inhabitants of Aber consisted of nothing but
talk of Tegwen. Gwen would start upon the task Hywel had given her:
to listen to what people had to say.
    The hated Cadwaladr sat at one end of the
dais, basking in the attention of his followers. If anything, he
was growing more handsome as he aged, and no hint of baldness had
yet touched