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Theodosia opened her mouth to scream.
The metal sword point bit against her throat in one swift movement.
“One sound,” Fitzurse’s blue eyes bored into hers, “and I will carve you in twain. Understood?”
She backed into the room, chin tilted back so far she thought her neck might break.
Fitzurse pressed harder with the point of his steel. Any second now, he’d carve through her skin.
“You ruffian. Unhand my daughter!”
She couldn’t turn her head to see her mother. “Mama, hush. Please.” It came out as a croak from her half-shut lips.
Fitzurse eased the door closed with his free hand and slid the bolt home. “I’d advise you to listen to your daughter, madam. Otherwise I will slay her where she stands.”
“He means it, Mama. I promise you.”
Terrified whimpers came from Amélie.
“Stay where you are, woman.” He flicked his gaze to Amélie, then back to Theodosia again. “Make your way over to your mother. Slowly, and facing me.”
She did as he ordered, eyes transfixed on the brutal weapon pushing against her throat. One push, one swing, and her head would be off, just like the wolf’s. Or would he crush her skull like Becket’s, grind her brains into the floor as Mama watched, then take her too?
He released the sword from her flesh as Amélie grabbed her hand.
“Oh, my blessed.”
She met her mother’s petrified gaze out of the corner of her eye as they huddled together, as if the closeness of their bodies could provide protection.
“Finally,” he said. “The two I seek.”
“Leave us be,” said Theodosia, mouth dry. “Any minute now, Sir Palmer will be back here. With Brother Edward.”
“No, they won’t,” said Fitzurse. “They’re headed off to the opposite end of the docks. I saw them go myself.” His lips drew into a smile. “My, my, you’re very pale, Sister Theodosia. In fact, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You could not have survived that rock fall,” she said. “I saw you go under.”
“The fall le Bret set off?”
She nodded.
He took a step forward and grabbed a handful of her hair. She screamed as he gave it a savage twist.
“You mean the fall that killed le Bret?” His voice didn’t match his furious actions. He sounded calm, in control.
“No one would have died if you’d left us in — ”
Another vicious twist stopped her words as she screamed again. “I said to be quiet, Theodosia.” His blade was back to her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
“Good girl.” He removed his sword once more and pulled his hand from her hair so roughly that some of the roots pinged out.
Theodosia’s quick glance showed Amélie so colorless as to be ready to pass out in terror.
“Now, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, le Bret was killed by the rocks. Most unfortunate. One of them caved his head right in.” He turned his sword over and brought the handle to Theodosia’s temple. “Right in.” He rapped it against her head. Hard.
She caught back a cry with a bite of her lips but would not drop her gaze from his blue-eyed one.
“Very good.” Fitzurse nodded in approval. “But the unfortunate le Bret, head cracked like an egg, but no matter, fell in such a way that his lifeless body provided a shield for me from the worst of the fall. Yes, it took me an age to force my way out. Yes, I was badly bruised. But I was very much alive. Now here I am, come to finish my mission.”
His words presented a ray of hope. “Your mission? My mother and I know something that bears on your mission. You do not have all the facts, don’t know something of the greatest importance. Listen, please, listen. I beg you.” Her words stumbled over each other in her haste to get them out.
“Theodosia, we cannot tell this man what we spoke of earlier.” Amélie’s voice had the edge of panic.
“We can, of course we can.” She clasped her hands, the better to implore Fitzurse. “The murder of Thomas Becket was a terrible act. But we all understand. You were on a mission from King Henry himself to silence the Archbishop because of the secret he held about my mother and me.”
“Go on.” Fitzurse appeared curious. Interested.
“But that silence, it shouldn’t have been murder, it should have been an arrest. Things went wrong, badly wrong, and Thomas died. King Henry has always been our protector, but he’d put faith in Thomas to aid in that protection. It had always worked, hadn’t it, Mama?”