His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Livia lifted her eyes. "That is not why I am going."

Tabitha’s brow rose. "No?"

"I am going to stand over Her Grace, in whatever condition she is in, and tell her that her suffering has only just begun. I want her to know she will not have a restful life until the day she joins Bella in the ground."

"Do you think that is wise?"

"No," Livia said. "It is not. But I want her frightened...I want her angry, making mistakes, consumed by hatred for me that she stops hiding her knives properly. She will then overplay her hand, bare her teeth where people can see them. The country will stop whispering about whether she is dangerous and begin demanding that she be ended."

Tabitha moved closer, lowering her voice. "If I know Her Grace, she becomes volatile when challenged." Tabitha searched her face. "Why do you need to do this?"

"I do not want to spend my marriage to the king looking over my shoulder," Livia said. "I do not want to be afraid of where I go, what I eat, what I drink. I would rather she bare her knives as soon as possible. Let her come at me openly. Let the court see it."

"You are not afraid."

"Tabitha, I stopped being afraid the moment Bella’s blood touched my hands."

*****

Lionel and the king walked towards the council chamber together. Henry adjusted the fall of his sleeve and exhaled.

"Have you ever wanted to strangle a woman and love her at the same time?" he asked.

"I would not know, sire. Love is a privilege I cannot indulge in."

Henry glanced at him. Lionel’s voice held no self-pity, no theatrical sadness. It was simply a statement. A man in his position did not love freely. He gave his life to the Crown in pieces. Henry looked ahead again. "The sacrifices we make for the Crown, eh?"

"Exactly, sire."

The Crown.

What a convenient little monster it was. Men fed it youth, love, sleep, friendships, mothers, sons. In return, it gave them jewels.

"Kindly make available competent guards," Henry said, "to escort the present thorn in my flesh to the Tower to see the other thorn in my flesh who birthed me."

"If you will allow it, my lord," Lionel said, "I would like to oversee her escort myself."

Henry stopped walking. The guards behind them halted at once. Lionel stopped too, turning back with formal patience.

Henry faced him fully. "Lionel."

"Sire?"

"Are you implying that you would like to be assigned to the service of the future queen?"

"If you would not miss me too much, my lord," Lionel said.

"You are the only one I trust, Lionel. Is there no way to have two of you?"

"A terrifying thought for the palace, sire."

"Useful for me."

"Perhaps less useful for everyone else that are terrified of me."

Henry looked away, jaw tightening.

Lionel seemed to understand the king’s worry. "I would make available someone even more capable than I am."

Henry gave him a dry look. "It is not your capability I enjoy, Lionel. It is your strict loyalty to the Crown, even if it kills you. That is what I trust. And, well, I do consider you a friend too."

Lionel bowed his head. "That is an honour, sire."

Henry resumed walking, and Lionel fell into step beside him.

After a few paces, Lionel asked, "Too?"

Henry’s mood lightened, just enough. "Yes, but I like Stephen more than I like you."

Lionel’s mouth curved. "Naturally."

"He is less grim." Henry stopped once more before the council doors. "You may escort Livia...As the king’s intended."

Lionel bowed. "Of course, sire."

*****

Geoffrey was already waiting in the council chamber when Henry walked in. The long table had been prepared. Papers were arranged in precise stacks. Geoffrey bowed. "Your Majesty. Good morning, sire."

"Geoffrey." Henry glanced around the chamber. "Where are the others?"

"I arrived earlier than they did, my lord."

Henry stopped near his chair and raised one brow. "I am guessing you need to tell me something, then."

Geoffrey’s mouth moved with the faintest trace of amusement. "Not bad news, sire. Never fear." He inclined his head. "I would like to host a ball presenting Lady Livia as a member of the Langford family."

A public declaration. A social introduction. A way to put Livia before the court as a lady under Langford protection. Claimed by a family no sensible noble would dismiss.

"Ah," Henry said. "Splendid idea." Then added, "If I do not smother her first."

Geoffrey smiled. "Is it not too soon to be frustrated with your intended, sire? Usually, that begins a year or two into marriage."

"Tell that to her."

"I hope, sire," Geoffrey continued, "that you will be present."

"I do not attend balls, Lord Langford. You know that." Henry moved to the head of the table and rested his hand on the back of his chair. He hated balls. He hated the false brightness of them, the painted smiles, the whispers concealed behind fans, the way every laugh became quieter when he entered.

"Everyone sees me there and pretends," Henry said. "I feel as though I suck the fun out of it." He looked down at the table, then back at him. "Inform Livia of the ball. And I shall cover your expenses."

Then Geoffrey said, more carefully, "I also heard about what happened to the Queen Mother."

"Geoffrey," he said. "Please. I do not want to hear it."

"Of course, sire."

"So," Henry said, switching fully into the cold clarity of rule, "what are we discussing in council today?"

*****

Theodora was being fed an herbal draught when her maid told her Miss Valenti had come to see her.

The Queen Mother sat propped against pillows, her back straight. A dark bruise circled her throat, ugly against the pale skin above her collar. A silk wrap had been arranged too carefully, which only made the injury more obvious.