Daughter of Time (Prequel to The After Cilmeri Series)

Daughter of Time (Chapter Fifteen)

Meg

I was glad Elisa wasn't with me. She would have had dark words for me about being with Llywelyn. Mom, on the other hand, once she got over the existence of time travel and all that, would have been just as starry-eyed over Llywelyn as I was. He's the Prince of Wales! Our beloved, lost Llywelyn!

Elisa thought I should have gotten therapy after I left Trev. The idea that I'd married Llywelyn—at least in our own eyes—would have sent her running for the phone book. I could hear her in my head: "You've known him for how long?" or "You're on the rebound" or "He's too old for you. You're still trying to replace Dad." She was probably right. I didn't have any answers for her, other than that I loved Llywelyn. Back in Radnor that might not have been enough. Here in Wales, it most definitely was.

Nobody treated me any differently than before, but I felt different about myself. By the first week in March, I'd been with Llywelyn for over a month. Each day we woke, traveled a little further on our journey to Brecon, and went to bed at night, whether that was in a castle, a manor, or one time in a tent on the ground. None of this was worthy of notice or comment by anyone other than me. I was surprised, even, by how easily Llywelyn's men accepted me. I was Llywelyn's woman, always there, and that was enough to be going on with.

The difference was how I treated myself. I knew what it was to be Trev's wife, but it was a very different thing to be Llywelyn's wife. Llywelyn's wife was competent, thoughtful, and treated well by all. I never had to worry about Llywelyn hitting me, even when something happened over the course of the day to make him lose his temper. I didn't have to manage him—to walk on eggshells half the time and avoid him the other half. Llywelyn told me what he was thinking, and why, and what made him angry was that I hadn't expected it.

"I thought you told me that men and women were equal in your world," he said.

"They ... are," I said. "They can be—even supposed to be, I guess. It's just that I wasn't when I was with Trev."

"Humph," Llywelyn said. That was generally his response every time Trev came into the conversation, which fortunately wasn't often. "Well, it's time you started being as equal as a thirteenth century woman, then. I don't have much patience for the twentieth century if there are still men like Trev in it. We have enough of his kind here."

By sheer necessity, I began to fit in.

I hadn't worn a watch the day I'd come to Wales, and I realized that I didn't miss it. I loved how time moved, slowly or quickly, but without being marked in small increments. There was more time for Anna. Each day had a natural rhythm. Things happened, and if something didn't get finished, tomorrow would come soon enough. In winter in particular, the days weren't very long, and people thought nothing of sitting over dinner for hours in the evening after a long day of riding or walking, because there was nowhere else to go and nothing better to do but listen to a forty-five minute tale sung by a bard.

One of the few nights we tented in the middle of a forest, I found myself sitting on a log, sandwiched between Goronwy and Llywelyn, with Anna curled onto my lap, dozing in the warmth of the fire. I'd put away my guitar for the evening, once my fingers got too cold to play. Marshmallows and hot chocolate would have made the moment perfect.

"You're happy here, aren't you?" Goronwy said.

A quick glance at Llywelyn showed him pretending to ignore us and focusing intently on a stick he'd stuck in the fire. "I am, Goronwy," I said. Llywelyn eased a touch closer to me. I hid my smile and kept talking. "I miss my mother and my sister, but I do love it here, even if it's not at all what I would have expected."