His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

There were moments when Henry’s face seemed impossible to read, that dangerous intelligence always moving behind his eyes.

"Some people think you could never have done such a thing," she said carefully.

"And what if I did?" he asked. "Would you see me differently?"

Livia’s breath caught. If he had done it, if men had died because his crown required their graves, then what was he? A monster?

"I..." She stopped. "I..." Her voice failed again. At last, she asked the only question she could bear. "Did you?"

His gaze dropped to the meal before him, long gone cold. "I should get ready for council." He rose.

"Of course. I shall head to my chambers," Livia said and smoothed her dress.

Henry moved around the table towards her. He stopped before her chair and bent low, one hand resting on the table beside her plate, the other lightly touching the back of her chair. His mouth came close to her ear. "I loved having you in my arms all night."

Heat rushed into Livia’s cheeks. She lowered her gaze at once, suddenly fascinated by the crust of bread before her.

Henry smiled. "We should do it more often," he added.

Livia said nothing. She was not prepared to admit that sleeping in his arms had not been entirely horrendous. After the heat and madness beneath the bed curtains, she had expected shame to keep her awake.

Instead, she had fallen asleep against him. Worse, she had slept well. That seemed like the kind of treachery one’s own body should be brought before council for.

Henry straightened at last, though not before brushing his fingers lightly over her shoulder. "Finish your breakfast...You need not hurry anywhere. I shall return soon. Perhaps afterwards we can slip out of the palace together."

"Sneak out?"

"Yes."

"From Whitehall?"

"Yes."

"After everything that happened?"

"It is fun."

"Your Majesty," she said slowly, "did you forget the small matter of your being struck by a poisoned arrow less than two weeks ago? You nearly died. And your solution is to wander through London again? Without proper guard."

Henry sighed, as though she were being unreasonable. "Fine. I shall let Lionel come with us."

"Just Lionel?"

"This is one of the reasons I never wished to tell you who I was. When you knew me only as Henry, I could stand beside you without a kingdom between us. We could steal a few hours from the world. I could be a man with you, not a crown. I did not want to ruin that," he said. "The experience of being two ordinary people in love."

"You were never ordinary. Besides, ordinary men sound dull."

Henry chuckled softly, then bent and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I will take Lionel...Final offer." He crossed to the bell cord and pulled it to summon Stephen. "Just Lionel," he said again, as if sealing an accord.

Livia rolled her eyes. "Fine. But if you are shot again, I shall drive the arrow further in myself."

Henry placed a hand over his heart with theatrical horror. "Treason, my queen. Absolute treason."

Livia laughed and continued with her breakfast.

*****

Later that morning, when Henry had been dressed, he went to council. The chamber had filled before he arrived. Lords, councillors, clerks waited with panic.

As expected, the first matter was his failed wedding. Henry listened as Lord after lord spoke of English dignity, the danger to merchants abroad.

Geoffrey, Lord Chancellor, stood among them. The councillors had heard Henry rejected the princess for his favourite.

The time would come when he would speak of her as more than a favourite. When he would let the court know precisely what she meant to him. But first he needed proof. A confession. Something solid enough to hang Madeleine’s guilt upon.

So he gave the council patience, which was to say, he gave them nothing useful.

"The matter with France remains under review," he said. "No treaty is abandoned unless I abandon it. No marriage proceeds unless I command it. Until then, you will concern yourselves with the safety of English subjects abroad, and the correction of rumours where they threaten the peace of the realm."

By the time council ended, the room felt exhausted. The lords withdrew in clusters, whispering the moment they believed themselves beyond hearing.

At last, the chamber emptied. Only Geoffrey remained, by the king’s order. The Lord Chancellor waited, hands folded before him.

When the doors closed, Henry turned to him.

"There is a chance," he began, "that once Lionel is finished with Elodie, I may be leaving for France."

"Your Majesty."

"Allow me to finish before you have me declared dead."

Geoffrey pressed his lips together.

"There may be war if Madeleine is guilty and France chooses outrage. I intend to go across the Narrow Sea myself."

"Sire..., you cannot cross into French territory while we are preparing for the possibility of war."

"Richard is in France."

"Then send men for him."

"I need to speak to him myself."

Geoffrey inhaled slowly. "Your Majesty, forgive me if I fail to see why you must personally rescue him. What is it you require, Your Majesty that a message cannot be sent?"

Henry answered at once. "A wife."

"Sire?" Geoffrey said, one brow lifting.

Henry let the word hang between them for a moment.

Then he added, "For Richard."

The Lord Chancellor stared at him before sighing. "Why?"

Henry’s mouth twitched. "You know why."

"Miss Valenti."

Henry did not bother answering. He wanted Richard alive. He wanted Richard home. He also wanted Richard married, and removed from the centre of Livia’s guilt.

Geoffrey clasped his hands behind his back. "Your Majesty, I understand your feelings for this woman, even if I do not entirely understand why they appear to outweigh your devotion to England."

"But you understood," Henry cut in, "why they outweighed Richard’s devotion to me?"

"My lord," Geoffrey said at last, carefully, "had I been informed of your involvement with Miss Valenti when the matter first began, I would have advised its immediate end."

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