Page 116 of Bound to a Warrior
He lurched forward and she skittered quickly away. “Don’t lie to me. You’ll give me the symbol. You’ll be begging to give me the symbol when I am done with you.”
“You have such love for your daughter, Father,” she said caustically.
“How can I even be sure you are my daughter?”
Mercy hadn’t expected that and oddly enough it made her smile. “That truly would be joyful news.”
His face grew red with fury. “Tell me now and be done with it.”
“So that you may kill me?” Mercy shook her head. “That wouldn’t be very wise of me.” She moved again, attempting to gain more time and space between them. “And actually it wouldn’t be very wise of you to travel all this way just to find me. Why are you truly here?”
He shook his head. “Intelligent and courageous. Perhaps you are my daughter.”
“You’re here to meet with someone, aren’t you?” she asked, hoping whatever she learned could be helpful to Duncan and his mission.
“That is no concern of yours,” he barked, obviously annoyed that she guessed correctly. “Tell me what I need to know.”
She stepped back away from him and felt the ground change beneath her booted feet. She stood at the entrance of the meadow. Could she run fast enough to avoid being caught? Her limbs were tired and ached from her day’s journey when more than likely her father and the soldiers had ridden horses. But what other choice did she have?
“I have nothing to tell you,” she said firmly.
“You will tell me,” he said, clenching his fist and vigorously shaking it at her. “You tell me what I want to know.” With that he lurched at her, his fist opening and his thick hand reaching for her neck.
She turned and took off, forcing herself not to look back. She ran as if the devil chased after her, but then he did. She was surprised when she didn’t hear any footfalls close behind her, and she hoped that she had gained enough ground to leave them in her wake.
She was halfway across the meadow feeling that she would make it to safe soil when she was suddenly and forcefully knocked to the ground, her face bouncing off the thick grass. It took her a moment to regain her wits, and when she did, she felt a searing pain in her left shoulder. She knew then that an arrow had taken her down.
“Get up and you’ll suffer another one,” her father’s shout echoed across the meadow.
She refused to lay there defeated, and so she struggled to stand, and though the pain pierced her like a hot iron, she managed to make it to her feet and turn to face her foe.
They were further away from her than she expected and she suddenly felt some hope. If she could avoid being struck again, perhaps—she grew lightheaded and stood stock still, calling on all the strength she had to keep from fainting.
“Stay as you are and you will suffer no more.”
Her father’s warning shout gave her the strength she needed and she began walking backwards.
“Don’t move,” he shouted once again.
The soldiers started running toward her, their bows drawn and she knew they would soon stop and take aim at her, and at closer range, they could very well hit their mark.
She had no choice. She turned and began to run in a zigzag pattern, making it harder for the soldiers to take a true aim. One arrow barely missed her and another flew over her head and she kept running while her father’s shouts grew louder.
The end of the meadow drew closer and closer. But the pain grew worse and worse, tearing through her like a sharp hot dagger.
Suddenly she heard a voice call out. “Drop. Drop.”
It wasn’t a familiar voice and she believed it came from in front of her, perhaps the woods itself. If so, that meant it came from the Picts. She didn’t consider it for one second more. She dropped to the ground and into unconsciousness.
“Lie still. You’re safe.”
Mercy recognized the voice. “Bliss.”
“Yes, it is I and you are at my cottage. You are safe, though the arrow must be removed.”
“It hurts so very much,” Mercy said, her breath catching as she lay as still as she could on her stomach.
“Removing it will hurt even more.”
