Page 128 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

“Both of them,” he mumbled as he took another step. “You’re both traitors, and everyone should know.”

“Stop,” Merrick growled. “You were doing this to me. Not her.”

The man didn’t slow his pace as he threw over his shoulder, “I’ve made no promises. We shall mark you both.”

“Human,” Merrick seethed. “You’ll beg for your nightmares if you touch her. And when you’re dead, your head severed from your body, your soul will continue begging for them for all eternity.”

“Theon… I don’t know about this. Loche cared for the halfling at one time.”

The man halted at her feet before spinning around to face the soldier who had hesitantly followed him. “I don’t care. Hold her shoulders.”

“But…”

“Now!”

Lessia swallowed as the man walked around her and took her shoulders in a hard grip, holding her against the wooden backrest as the other cut off the arm of her tunic.

“Lessia, look at me,” Merrick ordered, and her heart shattered at the pain in his voice.

But she made herself sit straight, her chin up and eyes clear of tears as she met Merrick’s dark gaze.

It didn’t matter what they did to her.

It didn’t matter that she had stopped obsessively pulling at clothing to hide the dark mark only a few days before.

It didn’t matter she’d enjoyed wearing dresses again—even if those dresses had been more revealing than she’d perhaps have chosen herself.

It didn’t matter.

She didn’t scream when the blade cut through her skin.

Nor when warmth began running down, dripping onto her thigh.

Nor when the man triumphantly emphasized each letter he carved into her newly healed arm:

T

R

A

I

T

O

R

She didn’t even flinch when he poured coal dust into the wound, rubbing it in with his calloused hands.

She only looked into Merrick’s eyes, watching as emotions fought over his features.

Anger.

Fury.

Guilt.

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