Page 115 of Bound to a Warrior
“I know that, Da,” Duncan said. “I will do what I must just as Mercy did.”
“She is a brave woman. Not many women would have sacrificed as she did.”
Duncan swung his fur-lined cloak around his shoulders, as he made ready to mount his stallion, the weather having taken on a considerable chill. He had tried hard to accept the truth of his father’s words, but it was difficult. The woman he loved, who he would die for, was out there facing perils on her own. It may have been difficult when they had been shackled together, but at least she had him beside her. Now there was no one for her to rely on.
His father laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mercy will survive, she’s counting on you to do the same.”
Duncan hugged his father. He always knew the right thing to say and this time was no different. If Mercy had the courage to do what was right, then he had to do the same. Then he would go collect the woman he loved and never let her go.
He mounted his stallion, the horse snorting, eager to be on the way.
“I will see the message delivered and then go get Mercy.”
His father grabbed the reins to steady the stallion. “Will you then confide the truth to her?
“I owe the woman I will soon wed the truth,” Duncan said.
His father nodded and stepped back and Duncan rode away, intent on remaining true to his mission and intent on retrieving Mercy and making her his wife as soon as they returned.
Mercy kept to her grueling pace. She knew once the soldiers realized her gone they would stop at nothing to find her, for fear of suffering the king’s wrath. She believed that they would either assume that she got lost, in which case they would not extend their search too far, or that they would believe she was attempting to return to Duncan. In which case they would search in the opposite direction of where she was going.
However, she intended on taking no chances. The soldiers might not and extend the search for her. So she remained cautious and kept her pace at a steady speed, hoping to stay ahead of anyone who might be tracking her.
She had not stopped for nourishment, but ate as she walked and now with dusk not far off, her limbs were beginning to complain. She ignored them though, since she was not far from Pict land. She intended to reach it so that when she finally rested she could do so without worry.
She soon approached the edge of the woods, a meadow lay beyond, and she knew that once she crossed it, she’d be on Pict land. She’d be safe until Duncan came for her.
She took a cautious step forward, though did not leave the protection of the woods and glanced around. Dusk was not far off and she thought to wait.
“I must say you are braver than I thought.”
Mercy froze, shutting her eyes briefly, then opening them and turning around to face her father.
He stood with two soldiers flanking him. He was a tall man and thick in size, his hands especially so. She remembered how it had hurt when he would squeeze her cheeks whenever he visited.
She noticed that his long brown hair had grayed considerably and while she always remembered a face marred by numerous wrinkles and lines, now they seemed to be abundant.
“You still are a beauty,” he said.
“And you have grown old,” she said with a toss of her chin.
He laughed. “You’ve gotten courageous. I’m proud. It’s a shame you must die.”
She intended to buy herself time and keep distance between her and her enemy, for if they grabbed hold of her she had no chance, but if she could move into the meadow and make a run for it, she might have a chance of surviving. If not, she would not go down without a fight.
“Like my mother?” she asked, taking a step away from him.
“Your mother betrayed me,” he said angrily. “She had betrayed me from the beginning, that piece of hide proves it.”
Mercy had no intention of admitting that she knew anything. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t lie to me,” her father said through gritted teeth. “A servant saw you looking at it. And saw your mother snatch it from your hands and throw it into the fire. She also saw your mother trace something on your hand.”
Mercy didn’t want to believe that one of the servants she had come to trust had betrayed her mother and her, but then they did truly serve the king, so what had she expected?
“The piece of hide is lost to me, however the symbol isn’t and it is what I need to defeat this imposter who claims himself the rightful king.”
“My mother gave me no such symbol,” she lied and drifted further away from him.
