Nineteen
Royal Bodyguard
Winter/Spring 953 MC
She reported to Marshal-General Valmar’s office in her full armour. The aide escorted her in while Valmar sat behind his desk, nursing a tankard of ale, glancing up at her approach.
“Dame Beverly,” he directed, “do have a seat.”
She was surprised by his civility; he was known as a difficult and obstinate man. She sat down, waiting for him to speak.
“I’ve been trying to decide what to do with you,” he said, pausing to take a sip. “I think it might be wise to use your talents to protect the princess.”
She smiled, “Thank you, Marshal-General."
“How much do you know about her?” he asked.
“She’s nine years old?” she offered hesitantly.
“Yes, that’s correct. She only comes to the capital in the company of the queen, and as you probably alre
