“Not if she miscarries—”
He hit her, hard, on the cheek with an open hand.
“I carried your child,” she gasped, jerking away, but she could not get free. “Ai, Lady, I am glad you beat it out of me.”
He hit her again, and then again, harder, and the fourth time she staggered and fell to her knees—but this time she drew her knife.
“I’ll kill you,” she whispered hoarsely. Tears stung her eyes and blood dripped from her nose.
He laughed, as if her resistance delighted him.
“My lord Father!” A servingman ran out of the mist, leaping between her knife and Hugh’s body. He jumped in to grapple with her, but she flung the knife away before he could touch her. What use was a knife against Hugh’s magic—if it even were magic? Hugh wielded his earthly power as effectively as any magic.
“My lord Father, are you unhurt?” Numb, she listened as the servingman fawned over Hugh. “God Above! That an Eagle should threaten you so! I’ll take her into custody until the king—”
“Nay, brother.” Hugh broke in with a gentle smile. “Her mind is disordered by the minions of the Enemy. I thank you for your watchfulness, but God are with me and I need not fear her, for I intend to heal her instead. You may go on, but be sure I shall remember you in my prayers.” He nodded toward Liath. “As you must pray for her soul.”
The servingman bowed. “As you wish, my lord.” He shook his head. “You are all that is generous.” Clucking softly under his breath as if with veiled disapproval, he walked away.
Hugh’s gentle demeanor vanished as soon as the man was out of earshot. “Don’t provoke me, Liath, and don’t mock God.” His tone was as hard as the rocks digging into her knees. He picked up the knife and used the point to lift her chin so that she had to look at him. “Now go in. The princess wants to see you.” Then, in an action meant to flaunt his power and her weakness, he flipped over the knife and handed it to her, hilt first.
Still numb, she sheathed it. Her nose still bled. She pressed one nostril with a hand, to stem the blood, and walked stiffly back to the princess’ tent; Hugh walked right behind her. Her eyes stung and her head pounded, but her heart was frozen. Nothing she could do mattered. She had no recourse. Perhaps it was true that she could stop him physically should he try again to rape her … but he was still her jailer, and she was in every other way his prisoner.