The staff person merely said, “This is from the king, sir.”
I gave the box a dubious once-over and took the envelope, opening the heavy linen stationery to find a handwritten card inside.
Mr. Gale,
Please accept this gift as a small token of my appreciation for a job well done in protecting my daughter. We would very much love to have you join us for dinner tonight at 7:00 p.m.
I was surprised that he had signed it merely Thomas.
While the staff person waited, I placed the envelope back down on the tray and gingerly turned the key in the small wooden box. I opened it and almost choked when I saw that it was filled with rubies. At least a cup’s worth in various sizes. I have no clue the value of gemstones, but I’ve learned enough from Camille to know that their mines produce only the highest quality of these red stones. I’m pretty sure I was looking at an early retirement.
I closed the box and turned the key to lock it again, my eyes moving to the staff person. “Will you relate to the king my sincere gratitude for the invitation to dinner, but I must decline as I have a lot of work to do to get ready for the debriefing tomorrow. Also, please pass on my regrets, but I am unable to accept the gift. It’s prohibited by my employer.”
The staff person looked panicked at my refusal to both offers but ultimately just bobbed his head and said, “As you wish, sir.”
After he turned on his heel, I closed the door and went back to my laptop to continue working.
It was a lie, of course. Bonuses and gifts after a job was completed weren’t prohibited, but fuck if I was going to accept something that extravagant. It was beyond ridiculous.
Since that visit, I’ve been nose to the grindstone, working steadily on the report. I clean up a few emails, including one to Kynan letting him know I will send the debrief when it’s finished as well as confirming I’ll be leaving Bretaria tomorrow morning. He and I talked yesterday, and he granted my request for a few days off. I’m going to Arlington to visit my parents for a while. While my dad is out of the hospital and doing well, I’m due some vacation time and would like to check on them.
Knock, knock, knock.
I look at the time and see it’s almost six. I’d ordered a tray of food to be delivered so I could continue working through dinner. Camille promised to come to my room later tonight—which would be our last night together—and I wanted to get my work done.
I push up from my desk and move to the door, noticing the faint rumble of hunger in my stomach. I ordered just a sandwich—don’t care what kind—and a beer.
It’s comical, really. I’m sure the palace employs a host of renowned chefs, and honestly, I’d be good with a PB&J right now.
And the beer, of course.
I turn the knob and swing open the door, wondering if I’m supposed to tip the staff that brings me food.
That thought immediately fizzles when I see King Thomas and Dmitri standing there.
I give a courteous nod. “King Thomas.”
“Would you mind if we came in to talk?” he asks, and I immediately step back to make room for them to enter. What am I going to do? Say no to the king in his own home?
He moves past me, shoulders thrown back and chin lifted… it’s his regular courtly bearing I’ve witnessed on the few occasions I’ve been around him. Dmitri comes in behind and shuts the door, immediately placing his back to it and clasping his hands before him.
Thomas turns to face me with a hard glare. “I’m very unhappy with you, Mr. Gale.”
Funny. The man just sent up a fortune in rubies a few hours ago. But I’m pretty sure I know what’s got his ire flared.
“You told my daughter about the threats to my life and now possibly hers,” he accuses.
“I did,” I reply matter-of-factly and elaborate no further.
“Your orders were to share no information of that nature with her.”
“She asked me point-blank,” I reply mildly. “Would you have me lie to her?”
“Yes, damn it all to hell,” he grumbles. “You should have lied to her. She doesn’t need that worry.”
“My apologies,” I say, inclining my head and trying to sound humble. “But I’m not the type to lie.”
“You don’t sound apologetic,” the king says, but there’s no heat to his words.
“I’m actually not,” I say, and this is where I hope they don’t have a guillotine. “I’ve come to know your daughter on this trip, and Camille isn’t the type who does well being in the dark on things.”
The king studies me silently and then waves a hand. “That’s actually not why I’m here.”