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“ C ousin Iorwerth is even tinier than our brother Rhys,” Sian whispered. How was that possible? Rhys was tiny; his head was hardly bigger than the ball she liked to throw for her dog, Crumpet, and his hands were smaller than the umbrellas of wild carrots.

Her uncle Matthew laughed softly, careful not to wake the baby in his arms. “That’s because he was born slightly before his time and this only three weeks ago, whereas Rhys is already more than six months old. That’s a big difference, you know.”

He was right, she supposed. But a difference in age was not always so significant where size was concerned. After all, she was only nine years old but already as tall as her mother. Well, she could almost reach to her shoulder if she lifted her chin. Well, almost.

Just then, the babe opened his big black eyes and looked straight at her. Sian leaned in, instantly captivated.

“Would you like to hold him?” Branwen asked, seeing her reaction.

Her aunt Branwen, Sian reminded herself.

It still felt odd to think of her mother’s best friend being married to her uncle.

The uncle who had become her uncle only when his brother, Connor, had married her mother, Esyllt, a couple of years earlier to replace her real father, Gwyn.

And now Sian had a sister, Jane, who did not share either parent with her, a brother, Rhys, and a sister, Gwenllian, who both had the same mother as she had, and a baby cousin, Iorwerth, who lived in England.

It was all very complicated, as things were wont to be where adults were concerned.

“Oh, no, I can’t hold the baby!” He was so small.

What if she hurt him? Or, worse, dropped him?

It didn’t bear thinking about. He was bound to be fragile, being so small, more fragile than the vase she had broken only the other day when she’d placed it back on the table too roughly. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“I would like to hold him, please.”

Jane, always bolder than she was and less clumsy, held out her arms to Uncle Matthew, who handed her the bundled-up baby.

I want children when I grow up , Sian thought as she watched her sister cradle the little boy against her chest. If they are mine, perhaps I will not fear holding them.

Yes, that was a good plan. Except she had to find a husband. But how did one go about doing that? Husbands had to please their wives; they could not be just anyone.

Later that day, as the guests started to arrive for the banquet given in Iorwerth’s honor, Sian was relieved to see that finding a pleasing husband would not be as hard as she’d feared.

A blond boy had just walked in through the door, a boy who instantly drew her attention.

When their gazes met, she inhaled sharply for she had never seen eyes like his.

Surely, it was a sign, a way for her to recognize who fate had in mind for her?

He smiled, and a strange feeling swept through her body. Everything became clear.

Yes. She would marry him .