The Fallen Princess by Sarah Woodbury Read Free Book Online Page A

silent for a moment and then
said, “Let’s just say there were rumors that Tegwen didn’t come to
the marriage bed a maiden.”
    Gwen raised her eyebrows. Her father did
think she had grown up if he was willing to speak so openly to her.
“Such is the case with many girls, or so I understand, but it isn’t
usually something the rest of Gwynedd knows about.”
    Meilyr’s lips pressed together. “Taran
believed that Tegwen was a sweet girl, but I never got that
impression. Maybe she was quiet, but still waters can run deep. Of
course, I didn’t know her as well as Taran did, and we left Gwynedd
not long after her wedding.”
    For all that she and Tegwen had been close
in age, Tegwen had never befriended Gwen, having friends of her own
of a nobler class, and it hadn’t been Gwen’s place to join them. In
fact, until today, Gwen hadn’t thought anything much about Tegwen
at all and struggled to recall a substantial memory with Tegwen in
it. Hywel had known her better, but then, Hywel had always made it
his business to acquaint himself with every girl, eligible or not,
cousin or not, within a hundred mile radius of wherever he was
living at the time.
    Hywel appeared to have put that life behind
him with his marriage. Upon entering the hall with her father, Gwen
spotted Hywel’s wife, Mari, sitting at the high table among some of
the lords of Gwynedd who’d come for Calan Gaeaf. Since Gwen was
supposed to wait for King Owain there, she excused herself from her
father and made her way to where Mari sat. Gwen wouldn’t normally
have merited a chair at the high table, but since it was early in
the morning and plenty of seats were empty, she sat when Mari
patted the chair beside her.
    “Tell me,” Mari said, “where is my
husband?”
    “He’s standing over a body,” Gwen said. “I
suppose I can tell you because everyone is going to know shortly,
but Hywel believes it to be the remains of his cousin, Tegwen.”
    Mari put her hand to her mouth. “How can
that be? She ran away with a Dane five years ago.”
    Gwen wondered how many times she would hear
that exact phrase today. The story was legend. After Gwen had
returned to Gwynedd last year, she’d even heard girls giggling
about their marriage prospects with the caveat you can always
run away with a Dane if the man didn’t turn out to be all that
a girl wished. Gwen hadn’t realized where the phrase came from
until today.
    “Or maybe she didn’t,” Gwen said. “I know
that’s the story, but Hywel is very sure that the body is the
remains of Tegwen or he wouldn’t have sent me home to Aber to tell
King Owain of it.”
    “Do you mean to say that Tegwen has been
alive this whole time? Do you have any idea where she’s been
living? How could we have not known of her?”
    Gwen shook her head. “No, no. That’s just
it. She hasn’t. It looks as if she died years ago—maybe even the
very day she disappeared.” The more Gwen thought about it, the more
likely that scenario seemed to her. Running away with a Dane would
have put Tegwen out of reach, but surely someone would have heard a
rumor of her at least once in all these years. Gwen herself had
gone to Dublin last year (which was a polite way of putting it,
given that Prince Cadwaladr had abducted her) but she hadn’t seen
Tegwen among the court. Admittedly, she hadn’t thought to look
either. “For some reason, someone left her body on the beach early
this morning.”
    Mari’s face had gone very white, and Gwen
pressed her hand. “Did you know her?”
    “Yes, I did.” Mari took a sip of warm mead,
and some color returned to her face. “My uncle Goronwy and her
grandfather were well acquainted. She and I were the same age, and
she visited my uncle’s estates often.” Her brow furrowed. “You are
of an age with us, more or less. Why didn’t you know her?”
    Gwen explained again why she hadn’t, though
she was beginning to wonder if the issue wasn’t so much that Tegwen
hadn’t been at court