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incoherently. This is shock.
    For Bledri had continued. “A fine bridal piece, indeed. And a bride from the House of PenMarch will be just what he needs.”
    “He?” Enid whispered.
    “Morcant Whledig,” Bledri said. And smiled.
    T HAT NIGHT THE message sent by the Shining Ones reached into Gwydion’s sleep.
    At last he had found Y Honneit, the Spear, one of the lost Treasures of Kymru. He had found Erias Yr Gwydd, Blaze of Knowledge. He could see it as it floated within a mighty ring of fire.
    The long shaft made of twining silver and gold flashed brightly in the light of the fire. Gleaming opals covered the base and the top of the shaft. The spear point itself was studded with onyx in a figure eight, the sign of Annwyn, Lord of Chaos.
    He tried to reach out for it then, but the fire blazed even brighter. The heat made the Spear shimmer before his eyes.
    And he cried out in frustration and anger, for he was so close but could not obtain what he so desperately sought.
    Then, suddenly, a black raven shot down from the sky. A collar of opals encircled his neck, and his black feathers glowed red in the light of the flames.
    In his talons he held a branch of oak leaves. The raven tossed the branch into the fire, where it settled gently on the shaft of the glowing spear.
    Ask
. The raven’s thought echoed through the deepest chambers of his mind.
You must ask
.
    At first his pride forbade him to speak, but his need was too great. “I beg you, then. I beg you to help me,” he rasped.
    Reach
, the raven answered.
    “I can’t,” Gwydion cried. “I’m afraid.”
    Reach
, the raven repeated sternly.
    And so he stretched out his arms to the fire as the Spear floated serenely through the flames to his waiting hands. And his hands turned to a raven’s claws, then back into his own hands, flickering unsteadily from one to the other.
    And the Spear came to him as the man/raven reached out and took it, plucking it from the fire. The raven screamed in triumph. The oak branch glowed with the fiery light of the opals around the hilt of the Spear that shone bright and deadly, as he held the Spear aloft in the light of the blazing fire.

Chapter 3
    Ogaf Greu and Arberth
Kingdom of Prydyn, Kymru
Bedwen Mis, 499
    Llundydd, Lleihau Wythnos—late afternoon
    G wenhwyfar ur Rhoram var Rhiannon, Princess of Prydyn, daughter of the House of Llyr, winced in pain as she scrambled to her feet. Rolling up her woolen skirt, she gravely examined her wound.
    Another skinned knee. Queen Efa would kill her.
    Even in her thoughts Gwen styled her stepmother as Queen. Efa had always insisted on being addressed by that title. Even though Efa no longer ruled over a kingdom, her insistence had not changed. Actually, she was worse than ever.
    Once—and only once—Gwen had made the mistake of asking Efa just what she thought she was Queen of now—the seagulls? Her stepmother’s reaction hadn’t bothered her in the least, but Gwen had repented of her thoughtless words instantly, for the look on her father’s face had almost broken her heart. Once again she had not thought before she spoke, and so had hurt someone she loved. It seemed to happen to her a lot.
    But, she excused herself, as she always did, what can anyone expect of a person who had spent the first eleven years of her life in hiding? What could you expect of someone who had grown up in a cave?
    She sighed. Not many years after she had left the cave in the forest of Coed Aderyn, she had returned to another cave. This one was on the shores of Prydyn. But a cave was a cave. Full circle her life had come, it seemed.
    The cry of a seagull made her look up to track the bird’s lazy flight. The waves washed up to shore with a regularity she found monotonous. The sun had begun its flight to the sea, and the shadows cast by the rocks began to lengthen.
    Sixteen years old, she thought, as she moved through the sandy rocks, stepping delicately with her bare feet. Sixteen years old, and still hiding.