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Knud pushed back the shutters and peered into the darkness. “It’s a fair distance to the courtyard,” he said.

A gust of wind carried rain into the room. Behind them, Owain Gwynedd and Cadell were shouting orders. Knights and their squires were on their feet. Some of the guardsmen were pounding on the door with an assortment of weapons whilst others had set to work binding the arms and legs of Cadwgan’s abandoned retainers.

Tossing his cloak to the floor, Leif climbed onto the windowsill. “The wet stone is not so different from a wet longboat’s mast,” he said.

“Aye.” Knud’s tone was grim. “But we have ropes on the longships. And a cold dousing in the sea is likely the worst outcome if we fall.”

Leif refused to consider his fate if he landed on the hard-packed earth far below. “You do not need to do this.”

“We have no time for this discussion,” Knud said. “Go. If I fall, I wish to have you beneath me.”

Cadwgan yanked Rhiannon toward the tower. Pain pulsed up to her shoulder, but she kept her fingers clenched around the key to the great hall. As long as it was in her possession, the possibility of freeing the trapped men remained.

“Why are you taking me with you?” Rhiannon’s voice was strained. “I will only slow your escape.”

“Incorrect, my dear Rhiannon,” Cadwgan said. “You are my sole means of escape.” They started down the spiral staircase. “Do you truly believe I would have departed that room alive had I not had a dagger to your throat?”

“There is no one here now. You can lower your weapon.”

He snorted. “Do you take me for a fool?” Light from the torch burning in the sconce above her head illuminated his contemptuous expression. “I shall not soon forget your betrayal, Rhiannon.” He shifted the knife a little higher. “My blade at your neck ensured Owain Gwynedd’s compliance. I believe it will also guarantee yours.”

Cadwgan may be no fool, but neither was she. Rhiannon knew full well that her life was worth nothing to this man once he was beyond the castle walls. She took another stumbling step into the darkness.

“Faster!” Cadwgan barked as the pale glow of light from the torch at the base of the tower came into view. He tugged on her arm, and she missed a stair. She fell forward and felt the sharp prick of Cadwgan’s knife. A cry escaped her.

“You clumsy wench.” He tripped down two or three more stairs before regaining his balance and pulling her closer, the whites of his eyes shining in the darkness. “Do something like that again and I take off a finger.”

A vison of Madoc’s damaged hand floated before her, and Rhiannon battled a wave of nausea. She did not wish to know the cause of the retainer’s missing digit. The blood currently trickling down her neck was sufficient proof that Cadwgan was capable of doing all that he threatened to do.

Chapter 34

Lowering himself out of the window, Leif slid his legs back and forth against the castle wall, searching for a toe hold. His right foot caught a depression between the stones. He pressed his toe against it and released his grip on the windowsill with one hand, searching for a new handhold. He located a crack. Grit pressed into his fingertips. Taking a deep breath, he released his hold with the other hand.

The palms of his hand slid on the wet stone, his fingers seeking another crevasse even as his foot did the same.

“I’m coming out . . .” Knud’s voice disappeared in the wind, but Leif sensed movement above his head and lowered himself another arm’s length.

Leif’s foot slid, upsetting his tenuous balance. Thrusting his arm out, he clawed at the stone, grasping at an uneven edge as his toe pressed against another groove. Somewhere below, a door opened. Leif froze. Cadwgan. Knud must have heard the creaking hinge above the blowing rain, for all movement above Leif ceased. Leif pressed his cheek against the wet stone, focusing on his breathing as he clung to the wall.

Hurried footsteps passed directly below him. Leif did not look down. There was no need. Even though some of the torches that had lit their way when he and Knud had first entered the inner courtyard had been doused by the storm and the area was shrouded in darkness, he knew Rhiannon was there. Offering up a heartfelt silent prayer that he would reach her in time, he closed his eyes and strained to hear the footsteps until they were lost in the wind.

A sprinkle of grit landed on his arm, and Knud’s grunt accompanied a gentle thud. His friend was moving again. Refocusing his attention on his own perilous position, Leif bent his knee and began searching for another handhold.

Rain dripped off his hair and ran down his face unchecked. His tunic and hose were soaked through. It mattered not. His desperate desire to reach Rhiannon overwhelmed all other thoughts and kept him moving steadily downward. Another rattle of grit accompanied a muffled Nordic curse. Leif paused long enough to know that Knud had caught himself before searching for yet another foothold.

Leif’s fingers were cramping, and his knees were screaming in protest when the torch illuminating the entrance to the tower came into view. Grateful that this light still shone to show him the way, he glanced down. At last, the courtyard floor appeared as a solid surface rather than a dark void. Gauging his distance off the ground by the angle of the torch, Leif released the stone he’d been clutching and pushed off the wall with his feet. He tumbled to the courtyard.

“How much farther?” Knud’s voice was hoarse.

Not bothering to brush the mud off his wet clothing, Leif strained to make out Knud’s silhouette on the wall. “Climb down another three body lengths before you attempt a drop.”

Counting the passage of time in pounding heartbeats, Leif watched as Knud’s shadow traversed the last portion of the wall before landing with a splash in a nearby puddle.

“Quickly,” Leif said.

Scarcely waiting for Knud to straighten, Leif took off across the courtyard with Knud at his heels. They had almost reached the entrance to the outer courtyard when the pounding of feet sounded behind them.

“Leif!” The man’s voice was breathless, but as Leif swung around to face the newcomer, he reached for his knife.