Page 23 of Cadell the Dragon

Once she and Cadell were alone, Johanna let out a long exhale, relief overwhelming her. Efa had not been Rhun’s mistress. Neither had the maid been forced. She had simply bedded the man of her choice.

“I hope this Richard will come back,” she whispered, almost to herself.

He would not be the first man to promise marriage to get between a girl’s legs and then abandon her when his pleasure had been slaked. But they had to trust that Efa was not mistaken and she had been telling the truth when she’d said they loved one another. Unfortunately, that still didn’t mean he would be back safely. On such a long journey, half a dozen ills could have befallen a lone traveler.

“I’m sure he will.” Cadell’s eyes were glowing with a certainty she could not help but admire. If only he were right… “Men would brave all sorts of obstacles to be reunited with the women they love.”

Yes. But did Richard truly love Efa?

They would have to wait and see.

As planned, Johanna and Cadell left for Castell Esgyrn in the morning.

He was riding his stallion Haearn and she her faithful mare Blossom. Coal black and snowy white, the two animals offered a pleasing contrast when placed side by side. By coincidence, Johanna was wearing a cream dress that day and Cadell had donned a dark brown tunic over which his blond hair shone like polished metal. She suspected that they, too, looked very striking together. Though she wasn’t quite sure why, the idea appealed to her.

They remained side by side for most of the ride. She had expected to trot or canter at regular intervals, but Cadell didn’t appear in any hurry to reach Castell Esgyrn. He seemed happy to walk and take this opportunity to give her an overview of Bryn Glas’ neighbors. He told her what they thought of English people and what she could expect from them, which she found extremely useful—and diverting. Aside from a deep, pleasant voice, he had a way of talking that was very engaging, mimicking the men’s manners and making her laugh more than once.

Then, as they neared the forest, Johanna thought she heard a faint cry in the undergrowth to her left.

“What was that?” she asked, bringing her horse to halt. It had sounded human, nothing like an injured animal.

Cadell tilted his head, stopping in turn. “I don’t hear any⁠—”

A voice, feeble but unmistakable, interrupted his answer.

“Help.”

She had been right, there was someone in the woods, calling for help. A man, by the sound of things. Cadell jumped down from the saddle at the same time as she did, worry etched on his face. Following the sound of his calls, it didn’t take them long to reach the man in need. He was lying on his back, his clothes torn and bloodied. But it was his face that caused Johanna to recoil. It had been slashed viciously. Having endured such injuries, it was a miracle the poor man was still alive.

Cadell fell to his knees. “Pwy ydych chi?”

It was only when he shook his head that Johanna realized that the man did not understand Welsh. And, she now remembered, he had called for help in her language. Hearing English was so normal to her that she had not registered it at first.

“Who are you?” she repeated, taking a step closer. Though his injuries were horrific to look at, she could not just stand idle when he needed help.

“Thank God,” the man croaked, “you speak English.”

“Yes,” Cadell answered in the same language. “Tell us what happened to you.”

“I was attacked by four men as I entered the forest this morning. They took what little money I had and left me for dead.” The man spoke slowly, panting hard. That he was fighting crippling pain was obvious. “In truth, I don’t understand why I’m not dead, considering how they reacted when they heard I was English. Had I merely been a Welsh traveler, they would have robbed me, I think. But when they heard my protests, they started to amuse themselves with me. Only the sound of horses approaching prevented them from actually delivering a fatal blow. They might have thought I had died anyway.”

“Yes, they might,” Cadell said, looking somber.

“I’m trying to get to a village next to a castle called Bryn Glas. My wife is waiting for me there.”

Bryn Glas. Dear God, this young Englishman traveling alone had to be Richard, the stone mason who had promised Efa he would return to her. Hope surged inside Johanna. The man had not abandoned her.

“You are going to your wife, you say?” she asked, doing her best not to betray the fact that she knew who he was talking about. Unless she was mistaken? The maid had said they were not married yet.

“Yes. Efa. She’s Welsh. I… We’re not married yet, but we will be, as soon as we can be. At least, that was the plan before. Now, after this attack…” He winced, but whether that was due to the pain of his injuries or over worry as to how he would look with a scarred face, Johanna was not sure. “I don’t know if she will still want me or even if I⁠—”

Even if he would survive, he meant. Which, at the moment, was far from certain. Johanna threw a glance at Cadell, who seemed to share this opinion. He hadn’t told Richard that they had come from Bryn Glas or knew Efa, and she agreed it was best to keep silent for now. First, they had to take Richard to a place of safety and have someone see to his injuries. Then they could decide what to do.

“What is your name?” he asked, though they knew that already.

“Richard.”

“Well, Richard, we will take you to our friend’s castle just over the hill, where they will take care of you,” Cadell declared, standing back up. “My lady, will you come help me get the horses ready to transport him?”