Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(206)

Now, he had him. It was time to move.

*

The rain had been incessant, blinding at times, but it seemed to be easing slightly as the storm blew through. High in the keep. Chrystobel and Izlyn had spent the day sewing, or in Izlyn’s case, building her little structures from pieces of kindling as she liked to do. She had always been fond of that. Chrystobel merely sewed, passing the time as she carefully stitched a new tunic for her husband from some eggshell-colored linen that had been meant for her father. Trevyn didn’t need it any longer, temporarily buried near her flower garden as he was, so Chrystobel had confiscated it for Keller.

He didn’t know about it, of course, as it was meant to be a surprise. She smiled when she thought of his reaction to a new tunic, hopeful that he would appreciate it. Even if he didn’t, he would never let her know. He was sweet that way. She tried to maintain positive thoughts as the day passed into night, but it was difficult. An uncertain future always was, and worry over Keller’s well-being compounded the anxiety she was struggling not to feel. When night finally fell, Chrystobel’s angst deepened. She simply couldn’t help the way she felt.

The first sign that anything was amiss was when Izlyn, standing at the lancet window that faced the bailey, began waving to her sister frantically. Concerned, Chrystobel put her sewing aside and went to the window only to see a big fight near the postern gate. The gate was open and she could see men battling all around it. Blood was being spilled. Frightened, she put her arms around Izlyn as they both stood and watched the chaos unfold.

“Keller was correct,” Chrystobel murmured to her sister. “The Welsh were indeed coming. The missive they sent was a deception.”

Izlyn was watching the battle below with big, frightened eyes. She had never seen a fight before. “Gryffyn?” she asked softly.

Chrystobel hugged her. “Aye,” she said. “I am sure it is. But he shall be defeated. Keller and the other knights will not let him in, nor will they let him harm us. You must not be afraid.”

Izlyn couldn’t help but be afraid of her brother. She’d been afraid of him all her life and it was difficult to change the innate behavior. She knew, however, that Keller and Gart and the other English knights would never allow anything to happen to her, so in that respect, she wasn’t afraid. But the thought of Gryffyn naturally had her fearful. She couldn’t help it.

Chrystobel knew that. It made her fearful, too, no matter how much she told herself otherwise. She hugged her sister, kissing her on the top of her blond head.

“We will never fear him again,” she said softly. “But if he does happen to come to us, then we will never allow him to hit us again, do you hear? Gryffyn only means harm, Izzie. If he were to come to us again, then it would be to kill us and we cannot allow that, can we?”

Izlyn shook her head, moving away from her sister and boosting herself up into the window so she could see the battle outside from a better angle. There was a lot of fighting down below, pockets of men trying to kill each other. She could see Sir Rhys near the postern gate with his double swords and as she watched, he cut a man in half. Izlyn clearly saw two pieces of the man fall to the ground. Shocked, Izlyn turned to her sister and pointed out of the window.

“Sir Rhys!” she exclaimed. “He kill… killed a man in half!”

Chrystobel went to the window to see what had her sister so shocked, but she wasn’t able to discern what, exactly, Izlyn was talking about. Izlyn’s speech was growing better by the day but she couldn’t quite make sense out of killing a man in half.

Still, it was ominous and violent out in the bailey. She and Izlyn continued to watch as men fought, and men died, and somewhere in the process of watching, she realized that men were coming away from the gatehouse, rushing over towards the kitchen yard, which she couldn’t quite see because it was just out of her line of sight. In fact, she could see Rhys coming out of the stable yards, moving for the kitchen as well, followed shortly by Gart, his big bald head reflecting what little light there was.

All of them seemed to be heading towards the kitchens but they stopped just short of the kitchen yard. Everyone seemed to be hovering, waiting and watching, and Chrystobel had no idea what they were looking at, but whatever it was certainly had their attention. In fact, they were now starting to turn towards the keep. She could clearly see the movement of their directional focus. Curious, she strained to catch a glimpse of what they were looking at. Then, through the rain and wind, she heard something.

Someone was yelling at the door of the keep. It was a loud, angry bellow. Concerned, she climbed down off the window sill.

“Someone is at the door,” she told Izlyn. “I must see who it is.”

Izlyn scampered after her, following her sister as they moved to the master’s chamber where there was a window that had a much better view of the keep entry. Chrystobel moved a stool next to the window, which was a bit tall for her, and stood on it, looking down at the entry. What she saw startled her to the bone.

Her eyes widened at the sight of Gryffyn holding a knife to Keller’s throat. Gryffyn had Keller by the hair, the dagger aimed just beneath Keller’s right ear. It was Chrystobel’s worst nightmare and she shrieked, drawing Gryffyn and Keller’s attention upward. They both saw her in the window. Keller was the first one to yell to her.

“Do not open the door!” he boomed.

Chrystobel burst into tears as Gryffyn kicked Keller in the back, causing the man a good deal of pain. Gryffyn yelled up at her.