Page 39 of Retribution

“But you cannot get close to him,” Cambridge said, his annoyance coming forth. “Your daughter is the only one who can get close to him.”

“Close to him to… protect you?”

“To kill him before he kills me.”

Everald’s eyes widened. “You want my daughter to kill a man?”

Cambridge waved him off. “Do not make it sound so shocking,” he said. “It is quite simple, really. The man who wishes to see me dead is the king. He hates me, you know. He envies my power and wants it for himself. If he kills me, he will accomplish that. Your daughter has made an acquaintance with the king’s bodyguard and I have asked her to use her relationship with him to get close to the king. I have asked her to kill him before he kills me, yet she does not seem eager to do so. After all I have done for her, I find that most disappointing.”

Everald was in shock. He stared at Cambridge, unsure what to say at that point. His daughter had been asked to kill? The king, no less? There were five thousand men who would try to prevent that, all of them against his slip of a daughter.

It was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard.

“I do not understand,” he finally said. “How would you expect her to do this? She is not a trained warrior, my lord. She has never been to battle. How can you expect a simple woman to do such a thing?”

Cambridge was not pleased with this response. “It would be of no trouble if she put her mind to it,” he said. “Your daughter is clever, Everald. Last night, there was a great feast at Westminster Hall and she was dressed like a queen. All eyes were upon her. The knight with whom she has an acquaintance was there, also, but she made no move to speak to him and he made no move to speak to her. In fact, midway through the evening, she declared that she felt ill and left early. I was forced to sit for the rest of the evening with no lady by my side. It was ridiculous. She has made no attempt at all to do as she has been asked and that is why you are here. You must convince her that it would be in her best interest, and in yours, to do as she is told. If she does not, there may be… consequences.”

Everald knew exactly what that meant. Cambridge could easily withhold the money and poppy juice that he supplied him. Without it, Everald would be destitute. He could not survive. As much as he hated the thought of his daughter as an assassin, he hated the thought of no future money or poppy juice more.

It was a hell of a choice before him.

“I will speak with her,” he said after a moment, hating that he sounded weak and dependent. “Is she here?”

“She is,” Cambridge said. “In fact, I—”

He was interrupted when a servant entered the great hall, bowing profusely. Irritated, Cambridge shifted his attention to the servant.

“What is it?” he demanded.

The servant was bent over at the waist. “Forgive me, my lord,” he said. “But Lady Cleodora has asked for an audience. She says it is most urgent.”

Cambridge looked at Everald. “How convenient,” he said with pleasure before returning his attention to the servant. “I will see her. Send her to me.”

The servant rushed out and Cambridge seemed to perk up. “You will have the opportunity to speak to her now,” he said. “I will go into another chamber and wait so that you may be alone with her. You will convince her that she must do this. She must protect me.”

Everald knew that wasn’t the truth and couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next. “Or she must kill your enemy to make your way easier, my lord?” he muttered. When Cambridge looked at him in surprise, he simply shook his head. “I have served kings my entire life. They would not kill a prince of the church for fear of provoking the wrath of the church as a whole, so I seriously doubt that Edward wants to kill you or will even make the attempt. If you want him dead for your own reasons, you should simply say so. Even my daughter will know that you do not need her to protect you.”

By that time, Cambridge’s features had hardened. He glared at Everald, who hadn’t the courage to look at him. He kept his head down, knowing what he’d said was the truth that Cambridge was trying to keep from him—or at least hoping he didn’t realize it.

But he did.

That brought Cambridge’s anger.

“Tell her that she has a duty to me,” he finally growled. “If she does not do as she is told, her father will end up in severe distress. And I will send her to the most despicable brothel in London, where she can service the dregs of society. Or mayhap I will sell her to the pirates that sail the Dover coast. Her fate is in her own hands, Everald. I suggest you tell her that.”

A flash of pale material caught their attention over by the entry and they both turned to see Cleodora entering in a pale blue gown. The palest blue possible. She dipped into a curtsy as she entered the chamber but as she stood up, she noticed her father sitting at the end of the table with Cambridge.

She smiled politely.

“Papa,” she greeted him. “I did not know you were here. When did you arrive?”

Everald found himself looking over his daughter. She seemed to grow more beautiful every time he saw her. She looked very much like her mother as Everald remembered her.

“Greetings,” he said without emotion. “I have only just arrived.”

“Your father and I were just speaking of you,” Cambridge said, waving her forward. “I was saying that you have become quite indispensable to me, my dear. Everyone knows the lovely Pearl, but I am the man fortunate enough to have her with me. It was all anyone could speak of last night at the king’s feast.”

Cleodora approached the table, unsure what to make of Cambridge’s flattery, so her smile was timid. “That is kind, my lord,” she said. “In fact, it is the feast I wish to speak of. The garment I wore last evening, that beautiful dress, has been damaged and I must take it to Adelie’s today to see if she can repair it.”