Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(132)

Chrystobel tried not to appear too shocked by his admission. So the arrow had indeed come from him! She very much wanted to appear as if she was on his side, anything to get the man out of her chamber without blood being drawn. The longer he remained here, the more chance there would be of him becoming violent. Get him out!

“Of course, Gryffyn,” she said patiently. “Anything you say. But you cannot remain here. He has already been back twice. If he finds you here, it would be very bad for you.”

Gryffyn was in the process of mentally dismembering the man he now considered to be his arch enemy, de Poyer, but he paused when his sister’s words sank deep. He looked at her, abruptly, his expression nothing short of venomous.

“He cannot best me,” he declared. “He had his demons pummel me earlier, but wait until I get the man alone. I will tear him apart!”

Chrystobel agreed steadily. “Of course you will,” she said. “I have seen what you can do. You are much more powerful than he is. Now, get out of here and go hide someplace where he will never find you. To the storage vaults, mayhap; there are many places to hide there.”

Gryffyn ignored her suggestion, at least outwardly. Inside, however, his distorted mind was working furiously. He was like a caged beast, pacing around and knocking over furniture, so much so that he awoke Izlyn. When the girl rubbed her eyes sleepily and then saw her brother, she began to weep. Gryffyn looked at the girl, infuriated.

“And you!” he barked, pointing a finger at her. “Tell me that I have your support or I shall punish you severely!”

Chrystobel raced to her sister’s side, falling onto the bed and throwing her arms around the girl. “You do not have time for her,” she insisted, her voice rising with panic. “Gryffyn, you must leave now. If they find you, they will kill you!”

Gryffyn marched over to the bed and reached out, grabbing Chrystobel by her hair. As she cried out in pain, he yanked her away from Izlyn and onto the floor. On her knees before her brother, his fingers brutally entwined in her hair, she gasped when he yanked her head upwards so that she was gazing into his menacing face. Gryffyn yanked her hair again just because he liked to hear her yelp. The sounds of pain always gave him pleasure.

“You are loyal to him, aren’t you?” he hissed.

Chrystobel was gasping and weeping with pain. “Nay!” she cried.

“Admit it!”

“Nay!” she wept. “Please, Gryffyn, let me go!”

Gryffyn didn’t comply. He held her hair tightly, his wretched mind mulling over a variety of scenarios involving his sister and the enemy knight. True, she had never shown any real excitement for marrying the Saesneg. In fact, she had been openly reluctant to do so. She was a bigger pawn in this situation than any of them. Therefore, Gryffyn eased his stance slightly… but only slightly. At the moment, he was concocting a scheme that would very much involve his sister. He needed her to save him. He needed her to save them all. There was a very simply way to put an end to the Saesneg reign of Nether.

“Then you will prove your loyalty,” he rumbled, digging into his leather vest and producing a small, sharp dagger. When Chrystobel cried out, terrified he was going to use it on her, he yanked her hair again to both control and still her. “When your husband comes to share your bed, you will use this dagger on him. When the man least expects it, thrust it into his back and kill him. Do you understand?”

Chrystobel was weeping uncontrollably but she nodded. Gryffyn yanked her hair one last time as he thrust the dirk at her, placing it into her shaking hands. Then he let go of her hair and watched her fall to the floor. His gaze, furious only moments before, was now strangely impassive as he looked at his sister huddled in a terrified heap.

“It is your duty as a Welshman to kill the English vermin,” he told her. “If you do not, then I will know you are a traitor and I will kill you the first chance I get. Once you are dead, I will kill Izlyn and Father as well. I will leave no one in this family alive, so you hold everyone’s lives in your hand. Kill your husband or I will kill you. Is this in any way unclear?”

Sobbing, Chrystobel nodded her head. “It… it ‘tis.”

Gryffyn felt very powerful at that moment, pleased with his plan to kill de Poyer. As usual, he would have someone else do his dirty work for him. This time, it would be his sister.

“Good,” he grunted. “I will be down in the storage vaults. You are correct. It is the best place to hide. I will await word of your success.”

He meant it as a threat and she took it as one. Chrystobel remained in a ball on the floor, her face against the wooden planks, hearing Gryffyn as he stomped to her chamber door and swiftly quit the chamber. Like a violent storm, Gryffyn had swept along the land, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake. But the moment he vacated, the sudden silence was both comforting and eerie.

Once he was gone, Chrystobel jumped up and ran to the door, throwing the iron bolt so that he could not come back inside. Then she collapsed against the door, weeping and frightened. All she’d ever known from the man was terror, since she had been a small girl. He continued to put the fear of the devil in her, a primal instinct that had been instilled in her long ago. It therefore took her several moments before she was able to calm sufficiently.

Still sniffling, she pushed away from the door and made her way back to Izlyn, who had lain back down in the bed and pulled the coverlets fearfully over her head. The little girl was trembling, too, and Chrystobel lay down next to her, snuggling with the child to comfort her. All the while, Chrystobel was very torn with the course her life would take over the next few hours. She was terrified of Gryffyn, enough so that she was actually considering doing his bidding. She knew her brother well enough to know he meant what he said. He would kill them all should she fail.