The blade at her throat cut into her flesh again as Reginald pressed it against her, chuckling darkly to himself.
“If ye wish tae live, Stone, I think it is best ye dinnae hurt her. Ye will leave this place as a corpse if ye hurt Vivien,” Kieran said, the fear clear in his wide eyes and the slight tremor in his sword arm.
“I will take my chances,” Reginald shrugged slightly.
“Reginald, you cannot get out of this alive. Let me go, and we will let you leave. No one will follow you. Just do as we ask, and this will be over,” Vivien choked up, tears spilling down her cheeks.
They had been so close to finally freeing her from his clutches. Now, in the last hours, it seemed that he would win. Again. Like he always did.
Vivien could not tear her eyes away from Kieran’s. She mouthed that she loved him as she felt Reginald beginning to take a slow step backward, dragging her with him.
“Dinnae move one step further,” Kieran said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone.
“Or what?” Reginald shuffled a few steps further back, Vivien held tightly against him, the blade at her throat.
“You do not need to do this, Reginald,” she said softly, trying to soothe him with her voice, “We will let you go; all you need to do is let me go, and you can leave. That is all we want.”
“Hah, I do not believe you – either of you. Shut your mouth, you whore. I have no interest in hearing more of your lies,” Reginald hissed into Vivien’s ear. She flinched at the vicious tone he used. Reginald’s fear was so strong that he was not thinking clearly. Vivien knew that Kieran was a man of his word. He would let Reginald leave if only he would unhand her.
Vivien knew Reginald would not let her go easily.
“Listen tae her, Lord Stone,” Kieran said, his eyes darting all over Reginald, seeming to look for a gap or weakness. It seemed he found none, as his face dropped slightly with disappointment. Vivien knew that he would do nothing if he was not sure of her safety.
“I do not think I will, you heathen. I do not trust either of you,” Reginald continued to walk backward, his grip on Vivien so tight she could barely breathe.
Kieran lunged at Reginald, the tip of his sword grazing Reginald’s side. Reginald dodged the blade as best he could, placing Vivien more firmly in front of him. He hissed as the blade chafed his skin, his face growing red with rage as he began to walk backward more quickly, the blade biting into Vivien’s throat again. She felt the blood pooling in the little hollow at the base of her neck and closed her eyes briefly. She could not even bring herself to scream out loud; no matter how terrified she was, she would not let Reginald see her fear. She would not give him that satisfaction.
Kieran’s eyes widened in horror as she was placed more firmly in front of Reginald. He had made a grave error in attempting to gouge Reginald – the man was only more infuriated and fearful than he already had been.
“Watch yourself,” Reginald hissed at Kieran, continuously backing away from him, “I hold her life in my hands. Would you really risk her just to kill me? He really does not care for you, does he, Vivien?”
Reginald cackled, enjoying the doubt he was trying to instill in Vivien’s mind. She knew better and ignored the jibe, begging Kieran to save her with her eyes.
They were at an impasse – there was no room for Kieran to attack, and Reginald would not let her go. The despair began to settle in her heart; there was no way out of this situation that Vivien could see.
Before she had time to react, Reginald had turned, thrusting her in front of him, the blade at her back, as he shouted at her, “You will run, or you will die with my knife in your back.”
Vivien gasped as the sharp point of the blade dug into her back.
She had no choice; she began to move forwards.
“To the ramparts,” Reginald said in her ear, pushing her in the direction of the door leading off of his chambers onto the castle ramparts.
“Follow us, and she dies,” he shouted over his shoulder, his eyes not leaving Kieran’s face.
The steady pitter-patter of rain that had begun to fall became evident as Vivien was forced onto the ramparts, the wind violently whipping her hair around her face. She could barely see through it, but with Reginald’s blade at her back, his harsh breathing in her ear, Vivien could only do her best to keep moving in the direction he was forcing her into.
“Stone,” Kieran screamed from behind them, mere steps behind them on the ramparts, his face red with fury, the vein at his temple bulging with repressed rage and terror.
Reginald turned himself slightly, angling Vivien between himself and Kieran. She was still his shield, she thought bitterly to herself. There was no way she was getting out of this situation alive. Just when she had finally found the life she really wanted for herself, Reginald would rip it away from her, just like he had taken everything else she had ever loved or cared about.
“Give up, MacBride,” Reginald shouted loudly enough to be heard over the thunder, as lightning struck the ground not far from where they stood, “There is nothing you can do. She is mine; I will leave with her.” He stepped backward again. “It is the only way I will get out of here alive – I do not believe a word you say. Let me leave with this wretched waste of breath, and you can carry on with your life.”
Vivien flinched at the terrible sound and sight of the thunder and lightning. It was far too close for her own comfort as the rain began to fall faster; heavier droplets splashing against her face, her arms, her feet. The drops splashed up as they landed on the ramparts, causing the stones beneath her feet to become slick and slippery.
All it would take was one wrong foot placement, and she and Reginald would slip and plunge to their deaths over the side of the castle ramparts.
Realizing that he was running out of room and options, Reginald tossed Vivien behind him. She went skidding across the floor of the ramparts, bumping into the wall of the watchtower placed at the edge of the royal chambers with a resounding crack as her head hit the stones behind her.
