Matilda would have never admitted that she was growing to like the boys clothes she was wearing. They were of simple make, the threads worn down to the softest of wool, the smell of soap and horse that made her think of sunny days at the keep. She was shocked at how easily she could walk in the trousers, and it made riding more enjoyable, feeling the stallion's warm hide against her legs.

It was difficult after a while to keep her face arranged in a scowl. The princelings of the realm were in such good cheer, singing and ribbing one another, that Matilda couldn't help but join in. The air was sweet and fresh and the sun warmed their backs.

Gareth's hound bounded ahead of the companions, scattering birds and warning off larger predators. At around noon, when they stopped to water the horses, Matilda noticed Gareth crouching. He was eyeing something in a thicket of green shrubs.

'There's been a large company making its way through here,' she overheard him say to Rhys.

'You think it the King?' Rhys asked in a low voice.

'Not unless they rode through the night and skirted us. No, there's someone else out here.'

Gareth's words put Matilda's heart in her throat. She looked over to Iola, who was chatting amicably with Owain. She'd been coughing the whole afternoon, though she had been trying to hide it from everyone. Matilda suddenly felt a surge of worry for her, thinking of the High Queen's furrowed brow and concerned gaze.

The pendant suddenly felt hot against her skin. Pulling it out from beneath her tunic, she saw the ruby was shining as bright as ever. When she turned it in her palm, it almost looked as though there was a bit of light wanting to escape behind her, like a little arrow of red fire.

She tucked it back in her tunic and said nothing.

The company fell into an easy rhythm once more, laughing about bits of court gossip which eventually devolved into Rhys and Iola teasing one another. There were fond memories shared of summer visits to Cear Dallben, playing with Hen Wen's little white piglets, learning swordplay, and swimming in rivers.

Matilda once again forgot her cares and the pendant was cool against her skin, as normal as any other piece of jewelry she might wear.

Eventually, as the foothills of the Eagle Mountains came into view, they decided to make camp for the night. Matilda was sore from riding all day. Slipping off Melynlas she brushed grey hair from her trousers, stretching her aching muscles.

'We'll make a fire now,' Gareth said, 'but it needs to be put out before true nightfall.'

'I'll take first watch,' Rhys said.

'And I'll take second,' Iola added.

'I'll take second watch,' Matilda said, to the surprised glances of the companions. Iola opened her mouth to protest, but Matilda put a hand to her shoulder. 'I promise to wake you when I cannot stand it any longer.'

She thought she noticed Iola's blue eyes soften a little. She'd seen that look before in the High Queen.

'Alright, but you must promise to wake me.'

'I'll stay up alongside you,' Gareth added. 'Two sets of eyes are better than one.'

Matilda released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her plan for trouble was the scream at the top of her lungs, but with Gareth by her side she knew she had a sure blade.

'Fine then,' Rhys said. 'I'll take first, Gareth and Matilda are second, then Iola and Owain.'

With that agreed upon, the companions untacked and watered their horses, then sat down to a rationed dinner. As the forest quieted and the small fire was put out, Matilda rolled into her blanket, pressing her back against Iola, who was already sound asleep. She tossed and turned until she couldn't even pretend to sleep. Yawning, she stood, walking over to where Rhys and Gareth were seated.

'No one woke me,' she said.

'We were going to let you rest,' Rhys replied. He nodded to the sleeping figures of Owain and Iola.

'I'm unused to this.' Matilda leaned against a tree as she sat, trying to get comfortable. 'I'll be awake anyway.'

'Very well,' Rhys grumbled. Standing, he unbuckled his sword and tossed it on a bed of pine needles. He wrapped his cloak around him more tightly and then lay down beside his weapon. Within a few moments Matilda noticed his breathing had evened out, and he was snoring.

'Forget knocking an arrow,' Matilda said to Gareth, not attempting to temper the bitterness in her voice. 'There's a trick I'd like to learn.'

Gareth laughed lightly to himself, which delighted Matilda, since he was usually so stoic and stout.

'Ha, these are the children of the realm. They belong to Prydain as much as it's earth and rain. No one sleeps better out of doors than these three.'

'Well said,' Matilda murmured. Gareth had always been so wise. 'Perhaps I cannot sleep because I am foreign born.'

'Perhaps, Princess,' Gareth said. He whittled a bit of stick with a short pocket knife.

There was silence between them for a long while. Matilda shifted, her legs growing numb from the cold, hard ground beneath her. She longed for her feather bed and a thick blanket. She remembered the left over crusty bread and hard cheese from today's journey, a little dismayed. Breakfast would be golden cakes and porridge and the season's first berries at Caer Dathyl. Her mouth watered.

Suddenly the red jewel was glowing again, its light visible from beneath her tunic.

'You'd better make that stop,' Gareth said, a little humour in his voice. 'It's likely more distracting than a campfire.'

'If only I knew how!' Matilda sighed. 'I cannot believe it to be magic. It's well known that all magic left Prydain with the Sons of Don. And there's no magic to speak of in my country; no enchantresses or wizards or anything of the like.'

Gareth shrugged. 'The Sons of Don didn't bring magic with them. It existed here long before they arrived.'

The ruby faded a little.

'Morwenna used to say that the earth holds a memory. Perhaps Prydain remembers the magic. Perhaps that pendant does.' Gareth spoke of the nursemaid that had charge of the Royal household before they had all become grown.

'Oh our Morwenna used to say a lot of things,' Matilda said, fondly remembering the old woman. 'And I do remember her telling us that. Stories of Dernwyn and Gurgi and the Black Cauldron. Gwythaints and unicorns.'

'Nothing but shadows and startlight now,' Gareth said.

There was a rustling in front of them, a patch of fern leaves quivered. Gelert's floppy ears pricked up, looking intently. Matilda felt her breath catch in her throat.

'Hold, boy,' Gareth said gently.

In a moment, a brown hare hopped into the camp, freezing as it regarded them. In an instant it bounded away. Matilda blew out a nervous laugh.

'For a moment I thought it might be a gwythaint.'

'Go to sleep, Tilly,' Gareth said. 'I'll stand watch until morning.'

'I'm not sure I'll be able to,' she said. But as she leaned against a tree her eyelids felt heavy and she eventually closed them.


Iola woke suddenly from a deep sleep. The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains, making the forest look as though it had been painted a dark blue. The horses were resting peacefully, swishing their tails back and forth. Melynwyn raised her delicate head to watch Iola pick her way through camp. All of her companions had fallen asleep. Even Gareth had nodded off, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm, Gelert sprawled across his booted feet.

There was a lake of water they had been skirting on their path to the foot hills. The water was fresh and clean, reflecting the snow capped peaks on its surface. Kneeling at the banks, Iola dipped her hands in and cupped a little puddle of water, splashing her face.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, for a moment she saw the expanse of black engulfing her. Iola's heart skipped in her chest and she splashed more cold water on her cheeks in an attempt to wake herself up further.

She wondered if she were still dreaming when the white horse ducked out of the woods and into the water.

Blinking, Iola thought it might have been Melynwyn. But no, its coat was of the purest white. Even in the dim, pre-dawn light the graceful arch of its neck almost hurt to look at.

Iola shielded her eyes for a moment, scrambling back when she heard the horse sloshing closer to her through the water. She paused on the pebbled shore. Looking through her splayed fingers, she watched as the animal's cloven hooves crunched against the shoreline. It was not a horse at all.

Iola wanted to speak, but she found she couldn't say anything. It was as if the world itself had gone quiet, as though the very mountains and trees were holding their breath.

The animal was close enough for her to touch. It snuffled her hair affectionately, causing gooseflesh to break out on her forearms. Bringing her hands out in front of her, Iola, still crouching, ran her knuckles down the animal's leg. The creature did not move.

Slowly, Iola stood. She was shaking. She felt the animal nuzzle her neck. She reached out once more, twisting her hands in its long mane. The hair was fine and silken, almost shimmering.

'Iola?'

The creature spun around, and it was away, galloping through the water.

Matilda came running over. 'Was it? Is that…'

'I…' she started, but the two girls could not find their words as they watched the red dawn light glint off a single horn.

'Oh, Llyr,' Matilda breathed. 'It's so beautiful.'

'What's going on here?' Rhys' gruff voice broke through the reverie.

Iola and Matilda turned to look at him.

'Are you trying to get yourselves killed?' he asked, his dark brows furrowed in an annoyed expression. 'Could you wait until after our foray is over?'

'Did you not see?' Matilda finally asked.

'A white horse? The tail end of it,' he was shaking its head. 'Let's hope it's not from some war band trailing us. Come on, the horses need to be watered and then we are going.'

They watched as the prince trudged off, breaking branches as he went.

'He didn't see,' Matilda said, turning to Iola. 'He didn't know.'

Iola shook her head. 'Am I not dreaming?'

'I came down to wash!' Matilda said, her voice breathy with excitement. 'I saw everything! I saw you reach out…'

Looking down, Iola saw that some long strands of silvery hair were tangled around her fingers.

'Amazing,' she whispered. 'To think…'

There was the loud sound of horses and their riders on the pebbles as the boys led their horses down to the lake. 'This is a scouting party!' Rhys was making it clear he'd had enough of their awestruck expressions. He tossed the leather reins at Iola. 'Not a scandal in the Queen's rooms!'

'Boor!' Matilda shouted, reaching for Melynlas' reins. 'Of course you'd never see what's right in front of you!'

'If you don't get on that horse-'

'Alright, alright,' Iola said, coming between them. 'My eyes were playing tricks on me. I was likely still half dreaming.'

She took the reins of Melynlas and led the stallion to drink at the lake. There was no evidence of the mysterious creature; no hoof prints. As her mount drank his fill, Iola twined the hair around her fingers, watching how the strands gleamed in the light. She stuffed them in the pocket of her tunic.

'Magic holds memory. Or memory holds magic... I can't remember what Morwenna used to say,' Matilda whispered as they mounted up on Melynlas.

'Rhys might have been right,' Iola said. The image of the creature was already fading, like a dream she was struggling to recall.

'Your mother's people were enchantresses stretching back to the founding of Prydain,' Matilda said hurriedly. 'No wonder-'

Iola's stomach did a little turn. 'My mother gave up all magic when she married my father.'

Matilda shut her mouth. Iola knew her words savoured a little of resentment; she couldn't ever imagine giving up that much power for a man. Then again, she'd never been in love before. Her mother rarely spoke of the House of Llyr, or what little training she did have in those strange arts.

'Enough jabbering, you two!' Rhys said, kicking Melynwyn into a canter. Breathing in the fresh air and leaning forward in her saddle, Iola let her worries be trampled under the stallion's smooth gait.