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“He will kill Keller if we do not open the keep to him,” she said to Izlyn. “But the only reason he wants to come inside the keep is to get to you and to get to me. He wants to kill us. Do you understand?”

Izlyn nodded fearfully, her eyes welling, but Chrystobel shook her gently. “Nay,” Chrystobel said firmly. “No tears. We do not have time. We cannot be afraid anymore. We must save Keller and we must kill Gryffyn. We have no choice. All of those years that he beat us, we never fought back, but tonight that will change. Tonight, we must fight back. If we do not, all of our happiness will be destroyed. We will be destroyed, and I am not ready yet to die. Are you?”

Izlyn shook her head. “N-nay,” she whispered.

Chrystobel drew in a long, fortifying breath, thinking of what had to happen. The time had come for her to save herself, her husband, and her sister, and she would not fail. It was time for her to take a stand against a man who had spent most of his life beating on helpless women, knowing they wouldn’t fight back.

Tonight, all of that would change. They had no choice if they were going to survive.

“Listen to me, Izzie,” Chrystobel said, cupping her sister’s face with her hands. “I know you are frightened. I am frightened, too, but we must do this to save ourselves and to save Keller. I will not allow Gryffyn to terrorize us any longer. It is time we fight back.”

Izlyn nodded again, her tears fading somewhat. It was clear that she was trying very hard to be brave. “What… what should I do?”

Chrystobel thought a moment. She’d never had to do this kind of thing before. She didn’t think like a killer, but for the moment, she had to. She had to do something exceedingly final, something that would rid her of her brother forever. As she took her sister’s hand and headed for the chamber door, her gaze fell on a big iron sconce, about four feet tall, with great spikes on the end to hold the tapers with. She remembered using a similar weapon at the church on the day they had gone to bury her father, using the wax and candles against men who were attacking her husband.

Dropping her sister’s hand, she raced for the sconce and removed the tapers, revealing five inch long iron teeth, sharp as daggers.

She headed down to the first level below with the sconce in hand and deadly intentions on her mind.

She had a plan.

*

Keller knew he was in a bad way the moment someone grabbed his hair and pulled him off the muddy ground. Dazed, his ears were ringing and the world was rocking slightly, and he felt something very sharp against the side of his neck. The next voice he heard in his ear was not unexpected.

“Greetings, de Poyer,” Gryffyn said. “It seems that we were destined to meet again under somewhat violent circumstances.”

Keller’s heart sank when he realized who had him. He was also quite furious. “Damn you, d’Einen,” he snarled. “Release me immediately.”

Gryffyn laughed, although it was not a humorous laugh. “Hardly,” he said. “If the situation was reversed, would you release me?”

“If the situation was reversed, I would have killed you by now.”

Gryffyn’s smile faded. “That was my first thought, also,” he said. “But I want something and I suspect I will not get it unless I use you as a bargaining tool.”

Keller didn’t even have to ask what Gryffyn wanted. That was abundantly clear. But he sought to distract the man, anything to help him gain the upper hand. Threatening d’Einen wouldn’t work because, clearly, the man had the advantage. Therefore, Keller had to resort to another tactic. He had to stall enough to disorient or confuse the man. Then, maybe he would have a chance to turn the tables. At the moment, he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“What is this obsession you have with your sisters?” Keller demanded. “By God’s Bloody Rood, d’Einen… what is this sick fixation you have for them? Why breach an entire castle to get to them?”

Gryffyn yanked on Keller’s dark hair. “Because they are mine,” he growled. “They belong to me, as does this castle. It all belongs to me and you stole it!”

“I saved it from you.”

“It is mine!” he shrieked. “You have no right to it!”

Keller could see that he had Gryffyn off-balance. He pushed. “With you here, Nether was indeed a living hell,” he said. “You made it a Netherworld in every sense of the word. This place is much better off without you and your brutal ways.”

Gryffyn growled, coming out something of a yell. He began to half-shove, half-drag Keller in the direction of the keep. As the rain pattered and the thunder rumbled, they made their way across the bailey but Keller wasn’t going willingly. He slipped more than once, purposely falling to his knees, buying time until one of his men could gain sight of him and figure out something was wrong. At one point he even fell to his belly and Gryffyn yanked viciously on his hair until he labored to his knees, standing wearily.

By that time, both the English and Welsh combatants were noticing that something was very, very wrong. The soldiers began shouting to Rhys and Gart, who emerged from the postern gate area to see Keller being dragged across the bailey by a man who had him by the hair, pointing a dagger at his throat. William, who had just finished off a particularly wily Welshman, saw what was happening. Rhys and Gart heard him hiss.

“That is d’Einen,” he said. “That is the man we hoped to kill tonight.”

Rhys sighed heavily. “And we will,” he said. “Spread out and approach him from the rear. He cannot fight off all of us at once.”

“He has a dagger at Keller’s neck,” William reminded him. “I have seen this man in action. He will not hesitate to use it.”

Rhys wriggled his dark eyebrows, watching Gryffyn as steadily as a cat tracking a mouse. “Then we must make sure he does not get the opportunity,” he said. “Find me a crossbow and I can take him from behind.”