“Make what easy, my lord?”
Lawrence lifted his white eyebrows. “You are outnumbered, Rhys. The battle is over. Your mission is finished.”
Rhys began to feel sick. The weight of betrayal was weighing more heavily down on him, pressing him, causing his stomach to churn and his heart to twist painfully. He was still having trouble grasping it even though he knew that, for all intents and purposes, he had been captured. And Elizabeau with him. But he would not go down without a fight.
In a flash, a massive hand shot out and he grabbed Lawrence around the neck. The soldiers surrounding him unleashed their broadswords to the deadly hum of metal but Lawrence shouted.
“Nay!” he bellowed to the men, his face growing red as Rhys gradually cut off his blood supply. He focused on the man with his hand around his neck. “Kill me and I can assure you that the lady will be dealt with in the most painful way possible. Is that what you wish?”
Rhys stared at him, his jaw flexing dangerously. After an eternity of gazing into white-blue eyes, Rhys knew that Lawrence meant what he said. God help him, he knew that he was cornered. They were all cornered. The only thing that prevented him from attempting to fight his way out of the predicament was the lady attached to his torso. Were it not for her, he would have already spilled blood. Surrender began to slowly overtake him, knowing he had no choice but to lay down his arms. He couldn’t take the chance that Elizabeau would be injured or killed in the melee that would surely ensue if he were to resist. God help him, he knew it was over.
Slowly, he released Lawrence and watched the big knight step back and take a big, blustery breath. Around his waist, Elizabeau suddenly slipped and he grabbed her before she could fall to the ground. Surrendering to the inevitable, he focused on gently lowering her to the ground and removing the cloak from around her head. He wouldn’t look at anything, or anyone, else but her.
When the messy golden-red hair came into focus, the first thing Elizabeau saw was Rhys’ pale face.
“What has happened?” she asked him before she looked around. Then, she caught sight of a few soldiers at his back with their swords drawn and she yelped with fright, whirling around to find herself face to face with Lewis. She instinctively pressed back against Rhys. “What… what goes on here?”
Lewis was looking at her with his usual impassive expression. “It would seem, my lady, that this escape attempt has failed also.”
Elizabeau realized what had happened without benefit of explanation. In fact, the reasons didn’t matter; all that mattered was that she and Rhys had been discovered and she felt the bile rise in her throat. Angry faces and swords glared back at her. She pressed herself more tightly against Rhys, feeling his arms around her. She couldn’t help the terrified tears that filled her eyes.
“I am to blame for this,” she said, struggling not to cry. “You will not harm this man. I forced him to help me.”
“My lady,” Lewis said politely. “How we deal with traitors is none of your affair. You still have two hours until dawn; I suggest you use it wisely.”
A couple of the soldiers reached out to grab her but she screamed. Rhys went for his swords but Lawrence and Lewis were on him, forcing him to defend both himself and Elizabeau without benefit of a weapon. A fist to Lewis’ face drove the red-haired knight onto his arse while Lawrence proved to be a bit more of a challenge, but he was able to shove Lawrence back while simultaneously regaining possession of Elizabeau. Instead of clinging to him, as he expected, she unsheathed a dirk at his waist and used it on a soldier who tried to grab her again. She severed a finger and the man howled as he fell away. Rhys ripped away his cloak and unsheathed both of the broadswords on his back.
The dual blades whirled through the air, faster than the eye could track. Faint light glistened off them, creating an odd streaming effect in the darkness of the entry. It was like watching swirls of death, singing an unearthly howl, inviting the first victim to step forward. But there were no takers at the moment; not one man wanted to walk into that hell.
“You’ll not take her from me,” Rhys was focused on Lawrence, his back to a corner near the keep entry and Elizabeau partially behind him. “I never took you for a fool until now, de Beckett. Like de Lohr, I trusted you. I would have never suspected you to be the traitor in our midst.”
Lawrence was holding up his hands to the dozen armed soldiers filling the entry, preventing them from charging the knight. He had seen Rhys in battle and knew the man would more than likely kill all of them if given half a chance. And given the fact that he was protecting the lady, it made him as ferocious as a mother bear which made the situation extremely precarious. Lawrence didn’t want to have a massacre on his hands if he could at all help it. He had to think quickly in order to diffuse the situation.