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“Who goes there?” he called.

“Hywel ap Owain.”

Owain Gwynedd’s edling emerged from the darkness.

“Is the door to the great hall open?” Leif asked.

Still catching his breath, Hywel shook his head. “I followed you down the wall.” At Leif’s stunned silence, he gave a hollow laugh. “I may not have raided an abbey, Norseman, but I have climbed a castle wall a time or two in my youth.”

Snapping himself out of his shock, Leif rapidly reassessed their situation. Neither he nor Knud would have any authority with the guardsmen at the castle gate. Hywel, on the other hand, could issue orders. “Go to the gatehouse,” he said. “Have the guards close the gate. Cadwgan must not leave the castle. Knud and I will go directly to the stables, but if Cadwgan is already in his saddle, the guards may be needed to stop him.”

To Leif’s relief, Hywel did not question his demand.

“It shall be done,” Hywel said. “And no matter what happens to Cadwgan, do whatever you must to save Rhiannon.”

Leif did not bother to reply. He simply took off running toward the stable, with Knud beside him.

Rhiannon’s wet gown was clinging to her legs, flapping as she walked and weighing down her every step. She and Cadwgan had reached the outer courtyard, and despite Rhiannon’s desperate hope that they would encounter someone along the way to whom she could somehow pass the key, they had met no one. With the noblemen and their retinues supposedly enjoying their meal in the great hall, the castle laborers and servants had taken shelter from the rain.

Two guards patrolling the castle walls maintained their steady march high above her head, but even if Rhiannon were to risk calling out to them, they were too far distant to be of assistance. Not with Cadwgan’s knife yet at her throat.

The stable, a black silhouette against the dark sky, loomed ahead of them. Across the way, a light shone from the kitchen, casting shadows over the nearby oven and well. The sound of young girls’ voices reached her, muffled by the clatter of pans. The scullery maids were in the kitchen still.

For a moment, Rhiannon considered tossing the key at the kitchen door. But if one of the maids heard it and left her chores to investigate, Cadwgan would undoubtedly put an end to the innocent girl’s life. Passing the key to a stableboy during the rush and confusion of saddling mounts in the dark would seem to be the soundest option left to her.

“The key.” Cadwgan’s low voice cut through her thoughts. He pushed her sideways. She stumbled, pain racking her weakened body. “Hold out your hand and let me see it.”

Numbly, Rhiannon raised her arm. It trembled.

“That way,” he said, jerking his head to the left. “Over the well.”

With dismay, Rhiannon realized that she was now standing alongside the low stone wall that surrounded the castle well. She took a stumbling step back. Cadwgan’s grip tightened, and she felt the prick of his knife again. She gasped.

“I said over the well.” He ground out the words.

Rhiannon raised her arm once more.

“Now. Release it.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she forced her clenched fingers to relax their hold. For one heartbeat, time froze, and then the key slipped from her hand. Light from the candle in the kitchen window caught the polished brass as it spun once before disappearing into the abyss below. Moments later, there was a faint splash.

“Well done, my dear.” Cadwgan dragged her toward the stable. “And now, I believe the time has come to change our tactics slightly.” Forcing her up against the large wooden doors where the roof’s overhang protected them from the driving rain, he lowered his knife so that it hovered over her heart. “When we enter the stables, I shall tell the stableboys that we desire two mounts because we are to be married at dawn.” His teeth glistened in the torchlight. “A fitting end to the day, do you not think?”

Rhiannon raised her chin. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her distress.

“Why burden yourself with an unwanted wife?” she said. “After what occurred in the great hall this evening, I do not believe that my relationship with the royal family will grant you any leverage whatsoever.”

“True. But marrying you now will provide me another equally appealing outcome.”

Rhiannon bit her lip. She did not wish to know how else this evil man wished to use her.

“You are not curious?”

She looked away.

“A shame,” he said, “for I shall tell you regardless.” The knife in his hand hovered in the air. “Simply put, Rhiannon, marrying you will hurt the king. Not only will his pride be damaged because he approved the wedding and then did not have the power to prevent it, but also, losing someone he has become fond of to someone he now considers an enemy will not sit well at all.” He chuckled. It was a humorless laugh. “I daresay, he will also have to navigate his wife’s and daughter’s response to his failure to save you.”

Rhiannon was starting to feel lightheaded. She leaned against the door, willing herself to remain upright. “I shall never marry you,” she said.