Mercy Hall
A heaviness weighs Mercy's body. Her lids flutter then snap open. A woman, who she doesn't recognize, leans over her with big hazel eyes.
Dark freckles sprinkle across the woman's cheeks, covering a pointed nose. Behind her, the skittish man, who she's seen a handful of times around the castle grounds, stands. His thin, wiry frame bounces up and down like a spooked fawn.
"Someone's coming," His voice quivers with an odd little warble, "I hear footsteps."
As Mercy sits up, pain shoots across her chest and stabs at her back.
"By the gods," she says, gritting her teeth as she rides out the wave of agony.
Through the balcony opening, flashes of light streak across the night sky.
"Can you stand?" The woman places a hand on her for support.
"Why?" Mercy grimaces. An odd odor invades her nose. It's a mixture of burnt paper, fuel, and hot embers. "Who are you?"