"Why do you have this birthmark?" he demanded again, the question edged with desperation. "It's not possible for anyone outside the family to have this birthmark."
"I don't know what you are talking about. That isn't a birthmark dimwit, it's a scar. Why am I even answering you?" Isabelle replied.
Suddenly, he lets go of her, Isabelle puts a fighting stance.
"I'm not going to fight you." He replied
A voice from behind him cut through his thoughts. One of his subordinates stepped forward, uncertainty written all over his face.
"Sir, Logan's men are closing in."
"We shall leave," Emeric muttered, his voice calm but tinged with frustration.
"Sir?" the subordinate asked, confused, as if he hadn't heard him correctly.
"I said we shall leave. Now." Emeric's tone brooked no argument, and with a second glance at Isabelle's, he turned to lead his men away.
