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waist, holding her immobile. She could not see what was happening to her brother.
    “Hold,” deShay yelled. She wondered if his yell was for her, for Arthur, or for his men.
    She suffered through another dozen jolts before the horse reared into the air and slammed to a jarring halt.
    He loosed his hand and she slid from the horse.
    Oh Sweet Jesu, do not let me see my brother impaled upon an English blade.
    But, Arthur stood, apparently unharmed, his face white and his arms twisted behind his back by one of Garrett’s men. She sagged with relief.
    He was not dead.
    Garrett grabbed her and yanked her before him.
    “God’s Blood, you stupid wench! Do you want to see your protector slain before your eyes?”
    He threw her from him and announced to the man who held Arthur captive. “I do not kill children. Release him.”
    “Lydon! Joseph!” He shouted.
    Lydon, still mounted, rode toward Garrett. Joseph was beside him in another moment.
    “Get the boy,” Garrett ordered Joseph. Then he reached down and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up next to the other knight.
    “Lydon, your care of the wench begins now. She will ride with you. I have no desire to see her for a time.” He rode away without looking back.
    She was glad, aye, she was glad. Overjoyed that he had not ordered Arthur killed. She was just as glad he didn’t want to see her.
    But she wanted to comfort her brother. She’d seen his embarrassment when Garrett said he didn’t kill children. Oh, St. Dafydd, but she would have to plan their next escape with more care. And there would be another escape. There had to be.
    ~ * ~
    As dusk colored the evening sky a brilliant violet, the train of soldiers slowed their march. Rhianna, now seated in front of Lydon, slumped over the horse’s neck while bleak, cold reflections chased one another through her thoughts. She gave in to the need to gather some warmth and pulled her cloak closer.
    She thought of the old, familiar wooden enclosure of her home and knew that Edward of England and Garrett deShay most likely had ordered it destroyed. Somewhere far behind them in Wales, she could only pray her brothers searched for Arthur and her, but they would only find the stain of the hated English. And, there was more.
    Today she had almost lost her youngest brother through her own fault. She struggled as the edges of desperation invaded her soul.
    “We stop for the night,” her guard told her as he lifted her from the saddle. “And, I will watch your tent this eve. You will not escape this night.” He glared at her and Rhianna lifted her chin.
    “Arthur?” she asked, trying to sound unaffected by his words.
    “Joseph will see to your protector.”
    The way he said the last had her jerking her head toward him. Did he know, had somehow guessed that they were of the same blood? Nay, it was not possible.
    She also knew she would get no chance to talk to Arthur tonight. When they brought her food, she nibbled at it and curled into the furs. But, long into the night, she tossed and turned, thoughts of escape racing through her head. They had to escape, but she had to make a better plan.
    Morning came and deShay’s knight waited at the flap of the tent.
    “You ride with me,” he said, grabbing her arm and pushing her toward his horse. In minutes, they mounted the steed and were on their way. She held herself rigid in the saddle before him.
    For the first time in days, the sun shone bright and clear and white puffs like threads of wool laced the sky. Rhianna concentrated on the land, trying to hold her thoughts at bay.
    When deShay had sent word he wanted their surrender, her father told her Knockin was near to the market town of Oswestry. In truth, she’d never been to a market town. She had always been too busy with the work of the keep to do much traveling.
    Her thoughts turned to her father’s illegitimate daughter, the tiny child he placed in her arms soon after the mother died birthing her. Lilybet became