Theodosia met her mother’s stunned expression. The Queen, not the King. An unseen enemy who’d been hunting, circling, hiding her evil intent whilst bringing death to the righteous and poisoning the name of the good. The ground no longer felt solid beneath her feet as a worse fear took hold. “Then Benedict knows all this?”
“Palmer?” Fitzurse’s nostrils flared in disdain. “The dog knows nothing.”
The room steadied, but Theodosia still couldn’t speak.
“I recruited him for his skill with a sword,” continued Fitzurse. “He was stupid and greedy enough to follow the money, without asking any awkward questions. Or I thought he was. I need to deal with him once and for all.”
Then she would be the cause of Benedict’s death too. “You cannot.”
Fitzurse gave her a pitying look. “Of course I can. You don’t need to worry — the pair of you are first.”
“But we’ve never done the Queen any harm, never claimed our rightful place.” Amélie’s voice trembled. “Never would. Can’t she leave us in peace?”
“Believe me, you’d have been dealt with long ago had she known of your existence,” said Fitzurse.
“Then who told her?” said Theodosia, anger pushing aside her fear. “Who betrayed us?”
“Becket’s strife with Henry meant a lot of things were said in the heat of the moment.” Fitzurse gave his usual smile, which showed his teeth but left his blue eyes glacial pools. “My Eleanor, my queen, told me all about it as we lay abed together.”
Two livid spots of color appeared in Amélie’s cheeks. “It seems she gets you to do her bidding in more ways than one. You are cuckolding a king, sir.”
Fitzurse shrugged. “It won’t be for long. The whole country is against Henry, thanks to the murder of Becket in his name. My queen has plenty more surprises waiting for him. By the time she’s finished, Henry will lose his head and I will take my rightful place beside her.” He brought his sword to Amélie’s neck.
Not Mama, not like this. “Fitzurse, stop, I beg you!”
Amélie choked out a terrified sob. “I love you with all my heart, my darling girl.”
His smile again. “I’m going to name this blade Slayer of the Brides of Christ. First Polesworth, now the pair of you.”
Polesworth. The servant Wilfreda. Her eye.
Fitzurse drew his sword back, but Theodosia ducked for the bucket next to her in the corner.
He went into his final, murderous swing.
She shot to her feet, flung the amber lye into Fitzurse’s face.
His strike tilted up, missed Amélie. He staggered, swept his free hand across his eyes, his face. “Oil?” Then he screamed. The sword flew from his grasp and bounced away on the floor. He pitched to his knees, still screaming, a high-pitched sound from hell itself. “My eyes, my eyes!” His hands covered them, but the skin around them blistered red, as from fire.
Theodosia gestured frantically, silently, to her mother to follow her to the door, but Fitzurse blocked Amélie’s path.
He wrenched his hands from his face. Both eyes were blister-filled sockets, watery blood a thick stream from them, skin loose from his nose and mouth. He lashed out with his arms, wild, vicious swipes. “I’ll get you, you bitches, I’ll get you.”
“Run, Mama!”
His hand caught the hem of her mother’s dress as she tried to get past.
“No!”
He yanked Amélie to the ground with a powerful pull, hands groping at her, tearing at her clothes. “I’ll snap your neck.”
“God help me!”
Another loud rip.
His hands clawed for her throat. Another scream from Mama.
Theodosia grabbed the sword from the floor and grasped it with shaking hands, hardly able to lift its weight. “Fitzurse.”
Still on his knees, he turned his hideous visage toward the sound of her call.
Theodosia thrust forward, drove it into his stomach, her own rebelling as his innards caved in. She held it firm as he froze, her mother scrambling away with a cry of horror.
An unbearable choking sound formed in his throat. “You bloody, bloody whore.” His hands went to the blade. The keen steel sliced first one palm, then the other, as he tried to wrench it free. “Roasting alive’s too good for you.” Then he went rigid, head flung back, and he fell to the floor at her feet.
She couldn’t hold his dead weight. The handle slipped from her sweat-coated palms.
“Oh, Mama. What have I done?” Theodosia’s breath came in uncontrollable gasps.
Amélie hastened over to her and gathered her into her arms. “Oh, my blessed, my blessed.” She clung to Theodosia like she’d never let go. “I thought we were done for.”